We traveled out to my mom’s place, Dancing Goat’s Farm, for the day. There we visited with her and my grandmother and her sister. They’re “refugees of Hurricane Ivan” as Gwen (my grand aunt) put it. At any rate, my mom enlightened us to the behavior of a male goat with a field of female goats in heat. I’m sure the reference to men being “as smelly as a goat,” “disgusting males,” or “bucks” was in witness to a male goat in action. Not that men have anything on goats. Goats take the cake as far as disgusting mammals go. If goats were people, I think that the men would all wear leisure suits and have thin, French moustaches. The stench is bad. I couldn’t get away from it, and then he rubbed against me leaving a stinky residue to linger all day (who stinks?). The worst is the buck’s fondness of female excretions of any type. As a female urinates, the buck sticks his goatee-adorned face beneath the golden shower. At this point, I begin to understand the reason for the discoloration of his face. The buck is so thrilled by this aphrodisiac as to get a buzz from it; he cranes his head into the air and gives a particularly icky expression of lust. The kind of lust that you only see as it relates to one of the seven deadly sins. If you’re lucky enough to be in front of him as he elates, you’ll see lips pulled back to reveal a homely smile of bottom teeth (there are no upper teeth) and a tongue seductively lapping the immediate air from a fresh whiz. I believe this is comparable to a wine drinkers “swirling.” In the beginning, I really felt that goats were the most revolting. I’m rethinking this position and sticking to humans. Afterall, goats are goats and they do what is instinctual. It’s humans that take on the extraordinary and exploit the oddities of sexual behavior for commercial purposes.