It's All Part Of My Rock & Roll Fantasy

An American moose, with his hands on the wheel
Of a dream that is made of American steel...

American muscle cars make my massive moose-meat hard as a rock.

There, I said it.

It's a thing you've got to be male to understand. Sure, there are chicks who get that lusty feeling in their loins when they hear an engine's purr turn into a roar. My big-titted secretary is one of them.

But it just isn't the same. She doesn't have a dick to get all turgid. (Damn. I hope she doesn't, anyway. I'm still all messed up in the head about that dot-head runner gal who turned out to have a johnson.)

My car-lust means that naturally, I love the BJ. No, not getting a blowjob in a cool car, you perverts. The BJ. The Barrett-Jackson auto auction.

Go to their website. Look at all the awesome cars going up for auction in Scottsdale in January 2007. Do you feel your pants suddenly becoming too tight in the crotch?

If the answer is no, you're either not male, dead, or gay. Only you know for sure.