The Gay & Lesbian Review Worldwide, November 1st, 2001
Whenever I see pictures of Montreal, I come without touching myself. Montreal is one huge maggotry of hairy French-Canadian men with hot and cold running Rabelais in their veins. Oh, I am God-lost bent, nuts, crazed for humongously hirsute Quebecois. They are crack Voltairean rabbit shots. They have splendidly unAnglo backs and spines, and quills on their shoulderblades and bums, their 'staches drooping over the mouths of their juicy walk-in caves and sideburns stiff with ancient pterodactyl cum. Their assholes smell like the undersides of toadstools, sap, and pitch. Cheeks parted, ...
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