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Dear Lord please help ... ;-)

I see the attempt at humor there but it doesn’t make sense. As so many people use the wrong terminology, we could perhaps insert a human female anatomy lesson here, but it’s probably best left alone. We just have to wonder about Glenn Danzig’s knowledge of the topic.
 
I see the attempt at humor there but it doesn’t make sense. As so many people use the wrong terminology, we could perhaps insert a human female anatomy lesson here, but it’s probably best left alone. We just have to wonder about Glenn Danzig’s knowledge of the topic.
Have to admit that I saw that one recently and it made me laugh.
 
I see the attempt at humor there but it doesn’t make sense. As so many people use the wrong terminology, we could perhaps insert a human female anatomy lesson here, but it’s probably best left alone. We just have to wonder about Glenn Danzig’s knowledge of the topic.
You should watch the documentary/film entitled WHAT IS A WOMAN? Some guy asks professors, doctors, protestors, people on the street that very questions. Never realized before watching that film that there were so many very confused people. But clearly your definition does not match that of many very highly educated professionals.
 
I can attest to the CR500 bad @ss ad. I had never ridden a motocross bike before when my brother in law invited me to ride his CR500s off-road in Hollister, California, a popular motocross location. Dry, hot, and dusty. At the time, I was riding a VFR700, obviously a pure road bike, very linear throttle, predictable. I thought, hey, the CR is smaller than the VFR, should be fine. Ha. So we were riding along, maybe ten minutes in, the CR is FREAKING ME OUT, which an open class two stroke motocross bike is going to do most street riders. It's SO powerful and instant-on throttle...amazing bike. So anyway, I'm in front trying not to die and I caught a little air and when I landed my front wheel was a little akimbo to a significant rut crossing the trail and, before I knew it, I was seeing sky, land, sky, land. I'd guess I probably flew for 30-40 feet. I stood up, strangely not winded or anything, adrenalin I suppose, and literally checked all my limbs for broken bones. Other than some new scratches to my street helmet, I was fine. My BIL came up on me and got off his bike. Verbatim: "Are you okay?" Yes, I said. He looks me over, silent for maybe 15 seconds, and says "So where's the bike?" "I have no idea." We both laughed our asses off. It was maybe 50 feet back, upside down, backwards, about 6 feet below the trail against the perimeter fence. We rode the rest of the day without incident but I'd bet most grandmothers would have given me a good run for the money. I never wanted to ride that beast again after that day. I'd take the VFR and San Francisco traffic any day. Much safer.
 
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