There are bears in the woods. There are sharks in the ocean. And, once a year, there are bulls running on the streets of Pamplona.

Who the fuck does this?

To steal a phrase Tom Lehrer, if you run down a street with half a ton of angry pot roast, you might win a Darwin Award.


If I were a 17 year old youth in Crete vaulting the horns of the sacred bulls while my man looked on full of pride I could totally get into it. The bull-running to my mind is polluted by bull-fighting, which – not having witnessed ‘lung butter’ or attended Spiderman: the Musical(?) is the single most disgusting thing I’ve yet witnessed. It even goes beyond the plays of Eugene O’Neill.

@JNOV: That thing there? He’s 20?

@JNOV: I would be wearing a chiton. True it wouldn’t cover much, not even as much as assless chaps, and as one vaulted it would become loose so that one might find oneself naked in front of the town. Which might produce erections given the thrill factor and could conceivably make one think of fireworks while blowing one’s load. If one was into that.

@JNOV: Yes and the agonizing death…

Imagine an execution staged for the populace… The muscles of the bull’s back flayed and left to stream down his back; the bull eviscerating the horses carrying the picadors; the noble animals tortured to paralysis so some fancy pants in fancy pants can pretend to be a hero.

The Socialists outlawed this spectacle of depravity.

@Benedick: I like bullfights. I spent ’72-’73 school year in Las Palmas, Gran Canarias and went every weekend during the season. I felt great honor was shown the bulls. It is quite the pageant.

@Mistress Cynica: @Benedick: Of more recent vintage was Michener. I felt when I read Mexico that he glorified the sport(?) which surprised me for the era that it was written.

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