Why Yes, I Can Be Easily Fooled!

STAMPING ON THE RAMPING WITH A CLOVEN HOOF

There's a civil war going on.

The Fetishists and Theater Majors who maintained that their cloistered fucking version of non-orgasmic sex is the REAL deal and the rest of us who ain't happy until we put one in the hole. It rages in the forums, in the sex clubs and in the fantasy machine extraordinaire of the Hollywood mindmeld whereby their dreams become our dreams and we really start to think that because a bitch's got on a leather bustier that she's really on the fucking edge.

Except this is all bullshit.

Except when the fetish is yours.

And we're fucking man enough to admit to all fetishes past and present. Not too far gone are the days when we made fetish of hosiery before realizing it, after all, still clothed the same ol' ho. Not too far gone was the unnatural attraction to a pair of big ol' giant titties. And in rapid succession grannies, fat bitches, and Jewesses. But there's one that lingers longer than the rest and its inhabitants, all escaped from a penal colony on the Planet Hot & Tight, now dwell in finely shod and sardonic glory on Planet High Heels.

Yes, yes, yes we know they're just fucking SHOES. We know the woman in them hates us and is thinking about how MUCH she hates us. We even know that this is tied into our unnatural foot issue to begin with where a fucked up, be-corned or toe-jammed foot can be immediate grounds for dismissal, but we just don't...fucking...care. They transform the hated and lowly foot into something else entirely and this and this alone is reason enough to jerk off on it, in it and all over it. Here jungle bitch IMELDA MARCOS is fucking queen and the coconut oil drips hot, heavy and regular all over a planet of shoes, high-heeled and housing all variety of ho. 10,000 of them, in 20,000 pair of them. Backs all thrown into perfect lordotic posture.

Translation: Birkenstocks are a horrible, horrible shoe. For loads.