Words fail me, much like fast food does

Ainless?

I hereby rename you:::

Shameless.

No more so than Walt (Song of Me) Whitman.

Henry Thoreau traveled to Long Island once, to meet Whitman.

Henry's friend, Emerson, said "Hank, I think you ought to meet this guy. I've just read his 'Leaves of Grass' and I think he's as queer as you are."

We don't know what took place during that meeting.

As for me...I don't want to know.

How can one resist more elks than can have sticks shaken at them? Not me for starters. I wouldn't even try. Resistance, clearly, is futile.

I've been bamboozled by this kind of caper before. You order a nice book from overseas and when it turns up you realise they crammed in a family of Guatamalan refugees. Those guys are still living in my spare room, can't get rid of the buggers. I'll stick with my swedish porn thanks very much.

The book did sound interesting though. In the very distant future when I publish a book of psycho-babbble I may even have the dosh to buy one of your books.

Well done on writing a book, I struggle to read one at the moment (swedish porn doesn't count). A word of advice for the next one though, you really need a more attractive love interest. I have my suspicions about you and the brown bear, but, while I am very open-minded, I suspect this element of the story may have reduced your readership somewhat.

That was no brown bear; that was... [wait for it]... a black bear.

My apologies for casting aspersions about your relationships with brown bears...deeply apologetic,etc. This changes things dramatically, I mean, who hasn't gotton down and funky with a black bear?

Funky is indeed the proper word for any black bear at intimate range.

Anna?

May I have permission to flirt with you?

Matt's no fun. I think he's queer. Everytime I try to kiss him, he giggles.

I tried to flirt with CJ but she got a restraining order and a baseball bat. I don't much give a damn about laws but that concussion helped me to understand that she wasn't interested.

I am quite at sea here. I need someone to flirt with...A female...One who does not carry a baseball bat or hatpins.

Zen, didn't you notice that huge hulking mandrill she leads about on a leash? Surely the wood alcohol has blinded you at last.

If so, then I presume that would put your original allocation of five sense at 'two down and three to go' - because I know the wood alcohol killed my sense of taste long before it affected my eyes.

Be that as it may, I, at least, can recognize a mandrill when I embrace one, and believe me, they are far less cuddly than black bears. [sigh] Knowing you, you'll have to discover this on your own. Just don't go running to hurley for first aid afterward - if you know what's good for you.

I broke up with the mandrill, now we are just friends so zen need not fret upon that matter. As for flirting, my feminine sounding name is somewhat misleading, I'm actually a 250kg, hirsute man from the northern territory. I spend my time in the desert with my dingo, eating blue tongue lizards and kangaroos that happen past. At least, sometimes I fantasise that I am. Other times I fantasise that I'm a 19th geisha who was trained by a 100 yr old ninja in the deadly arts.

*sigh*

Back to the title folks, for as yet no-one has explained how to catch fast food.
What, for example, is the best way to grab a quick snack? Do you wait and hope one is passing, or do you use a net?

the preface opens up http://4thecook.com/ in a frame

figured it out

Beastiality is always a tough read, even if it is cloaked in the promise of pristine wilderness. It makes me itch.