We are a commune of inquiring, skeptical, politically centrist, capitalist, anglophile, traditionalist New England Yankee humans, humanoids, and animals with many interests beyond and above politics. Each of us has had a high-school education (or GED), but all had ADD so didn't pay attention very well, especially the dogs. Each one of us does "try my best to be just like I am," and none of us enjoys working for others, including for Maggie, from whom we receive neither a nickel nor a dime. Freedom from nags, cranks, government, do-gooders, control-freaks and idiots is all that we ask for.
Scott at Powerline has a good grip on the penis stories. Honestly, I would not eat a Reindeer's Johnson if you paid me, but maybe I am homophobic or something.
Or maybe I just feel bad for all those poor Reindeer who are now running around the tundra without their equipment.
Speaking of the Noble Male Member, I was entertained by some hot Purple Grackle (aka Common Grackle) romance on my lawn this morning. The male does quite a display for the lady: he hunches up his shoulders, splays his wings, and raises a dramatic iridescent ruff of feathers on his neck as he struts before her: he tries to make like a Bird of Paradise. Then he hops on top of her for about 4 seconds. He did that twice in five minutes.
Afterwards, she did a shake to compose her feathers and her excited feminine heart, no doubt - and he walked off cheerfully, with a bit of a swagger, looking for bugs in the grass.
I think it was consensual, but she did seem a little put out by it all. Women are sometimes like that.