Fist A Goat

I want to fuck Wilford Brimley.
I want to feel his creamy thighs.
I want to ride him like a Shetland pony.
I want to feel his moustache exploring my nether regions in a frenzied dance of passion heretofore not known by mortal man.

I say this with a rather solid record of staunch heterosexuality. I'm not exactly sure why this is, but every time I see him, I have this uncontrollable urge to funnel Quaker Oats up his sphincter while Vietnamese girls pummel his genitalia with various meats and cheeses.

Of course, I know this is highly inappropriate and could never happen. I mean, where is an ordinary guy like me going to meet a mega star like Wilford Brimley? Obviously, there is very little chance of meeting the media darling, Wilford Brimley.

However, there is a chance of meeting a Wal-Mart greeter that would have some resemblance to Wilford Brimley and I could f..... Hmmm... I'm gonna need a shoe horn. Gotta go!