I wanted to title this “Police Beat director to make documentary on horse sex” but that would have been a bit too misleading.
I’m sure many of us remember the case in Washington of a Boeing engineer who turned up dead from severe internal rupturing after trying to have sex with a stallion (named, appropriately enough, Big Dick) while his frend (the engineer’s, not Dick’s) filmed the encounter.
As one Doper put it (paraphrased), “next time you get on a 747, consider that it was designed in part by a man who failed to notice the size difference between a horse’s penis and a human’s rectum.”
Anyway, independent film director Robinson Devor (director of Police Beat, which was screened at Sundance in 2005) is now working on In the Forest, There is Every Kind of Bird, a documentary scheduled for release in 2007 that will put a human face on this widely misunderstood story. A human face no doubt wearing a very surprised expression.
I’m not sure about the title, though. My choice would have been “And The Horse He Rode In On”.
Google “Mr. Hands.” Extremely NSFW (although I did it anyway, and this place went nuts with my co-workers quoting the receptive participant’s “UHG-FF!” for days afterwards)
The guy’s obituary (carefully omitting the cause of the cause of death, stated as “internal injuries”), a news story about the incident, and a follow-up story on the court case (for trespass) against the surviving witness who was going to film the event, were on the Internet and probably still are – though I decline to Google for them! :eek: I’m reasonably certain it’s not an urban legend.
Alexander Pope wrote a very funny poem to his friend Swift on the, er, difficulties that Gulliver might have had settling down with his wife again after his return from the land of the Houyhnhnms.
Mary Gulliver wakes to find her husband missing:
"I wake, I rise, and shivering with the frost,
Search all the house; my Gulliver is lost!
Forth in the street I rush with frantic cries:
The windows open; all the neighbours rise: Where sleeps my Gulliver? O tell me where?
The neighbours answer, With the sorrel mare!
I can’t find the poem on the net, but it’s worth searching out; it’s very funny. (Verses on Gulliver’s Travels, IV: Mary Gulliver to Captain Lemuel Gulliver)
The choice of title becomes even more fatuous when you reflect upon the many kinds of birds that do not live in forests - for instance, almost none of those commonly classified as seabirds or shorebirds. :dubious:
Funny, because I just had my interview for my security clearance last week, and that was one of the questions the investigator rattled off: “Pimping? Prostitution? Sex with family members? Animals?” (As if someone is actually going to answer “Yeah, I do that!”)
But I don’t do any of that. Really!
Similar story here a couple months ago. A guy got caught with his neighbor’s goat (female) and much to the D A’s annoyance, there were no laws against bestiality – they were swept away about 1978 when the state’s sodomy laws were repealed and nobody noticed until now. Since the neighbor reported that the goat was objecting, he was charged with animal cruelty, as well as tresspassing.
This story (and discussion of it) has caused my friend Becky to glare at me for the past few weeks. While discussing she shouted something along the lines “Why would someone think you could be fucked by a horse and not die?!” and my response “Well, there are plenty who have done it and lived to tell the tale” probably wasn’t the best thing to say… especially since she has two horses.