calmly comparing homosexuality to left-handedness or red-headedness and stating it was a biological phenomenon, nature's way, perhaps, of controlling overpopulation. To the Baron, of course, who made his money by adding to the world's population of animals, this was ridiculous.

Finally the Baron heard of the American psychoanalyst who claimed he could cure homosexuality in humans, Dr. Eli Bugger. By this time desperate, the poor Baron wrote Dr. Bugger a letter stating his case. There was no answer, so the Baron wrote Dr. Bugger again. Still receiving no answer, and getting more and more frantic, the Baron began bombarding Dr. Bugger with letters and telegrams. There finally came back a furious letter from Dr. Bugger threatening lawsuit unless the crackpot sender of the letters, who was obviously a Nazi, an antisemite, and a ridiculer of the sacred writings of Freud, stop his harassment of Dr. Bugger. Dr. Bugger added that the harasser, if serious, was also obviously a nut, as only a nut would want to try to psychoanalyze an animal.

Baron von Braun-Schweiger sent Dr. Bugger a check for $10,000.00 as retainer and a return-trip airplane ticket.

Dr. Bugger appeared at the stud farm by the next plane.

Reluctantly-very reluctantly, I might add-the writer of this tale hesitates. There are some things that happen in real life that are so incredulous, so preposterous, so outlandish, so fairytale-ish, that a writer knows he won't be believed. The fantastic tale of Dr. Bugger and Oscar, the bull, is fraught with such frightful pitfalls.

How to chronicle that long, gruesome battle of the more-and-more obsessed and maniacal doctor with his rapidly-flowering manic-depressive state to establish psychoanalytical contact with the blithely and naturally happy Oscar? How?

Besides, it is sad, the only sad section of this story. The late Dr. Bugger-so young, so full of promise and promises, so enterprising, so brilliantly rich-to chronicle his end and how his futile battle with Oscar, the bull, pushed him over the deep end-it is sad.

But, I am happy to tell, things worked out very happily for our Baron von Braun-Schweiger and Oscar, our gay bull.

Luckily, that fabulously rich gay Texan, Beauregard de Bastrop, got wind of Oscar and, since his private passion was indulging in animal voyeurism, he snapped up Oscar, even bettering the offer of the Maharaja of Mysore.

And, if ever you drive through Texas, nigh on most any day of the week, perchance, if you keep a sharp eye out you might spot Oscar. If you see him, you'll know it. It's a lot of bull.

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LAMENT

All I ever look for is attention and affection All I ever get is a venereal infection.

Leo McAlbert

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