This is a funny story but I think it is phony or at least embellished. Where does a guy come up with a baseball bat at a party? Was it in his wallet? The trunk of his motorcycle? Also, I have never known a retriever to eat dog shit, particularly at a barbecue, where he was probably getting burgers, chicken and ribs all day. Maybe a worthless pug or some stupid lap dog but never a retriever.

Funny story spackle, I guess that it was always on the cards that some poor sap would get upended in the portashitter. And I would have thought it standard operating procedure for hairy-arsed bikers to come to an event tooled up with a baseball at the minimum. My friend`s retriever eats its own shit all the time - and it`s gay.

Baseball bat I meant.

My friend has 2 Goldens.Golden number 1 takes a shit.Golden number 2 eats it and then wants to kiss your face.Dog number 3 is a Pug.There is plenty to eat all the time.All poop all the time.All you can eat for $1.99,better then Vegas.You can stay home and have a shitty buffet without gambling.

CEP, bikers, like boy scouts, go by the motto "Be Prepared", you might know this if you weren't so busy watching Nanny 911 and Wife Swap with the MRS.

Good story spackle, sounds like there was more than one MadDog at this gathering.

I enjoyed this story; I was a little concerned at first that you were going to try to make a shit-burger and give it to a human.

I've owned dogs all my life, and they can pick out one tiny little pill from a bowlfull of food. I bet the Golden was able to eat around the caca.

CEP, retract that Pug comment, or I'm leaving your harem! ;) My Pug is the ONLY dog I've ever had that plays fetch.

OK, retracted, but only for GGG. My retrievers never eat shit.

That's right. It's always my fault. Who put the couch cushions on the floor? The dog did it. Who knocked plant the over?

Pugsy over there. Who farted? It was the little bug-eyed meatloaf. Who pissed on the floor in the bathroom? The pooch must have gotten water on the floor when it was drinking from the toilet.

Whatever happened to loyalty, dude? Who barked to wake whom up from your nap when they should have been doing chores instead when the Mrs. drove up into the driveway? Me. Who strategically needed a 1.5 hour walk when the Mrs. wanted to cuddle up and watch some made-for-TV chic flick on LifeTime? Moi. Who provided comic relief at Thanksgiving by humping your niece's Teddy Bear because no one wanted to laugh at your lame-ass jokes? Man's best friend, that's who.

I've been watching your six since I was a puppy. And how do you repay me? You accuse me of eating dog shit! Why? Just so that these people will like you. Some friend you are.

I've had enough of this one-sided relationship. Why don't you give them the straight poop? Admit it, man, you missed the bowl and pissed on the floor and then tried to blame it on me. You're the own who farted in front of the neighbors, whom you invited over for dinner, and then said that I was the smelliest little rodent you'd ever seen.

And I can't tell you how many times I've seen you at the toilet after a bender. Don't you deny it either. Yep, you get up late, complain that your mouth tastes worse than dog shit, then immediately stick your head up to your shoulders in the big white water dish and make wild slurping, gurgling and moaning noises. You call it "calling the dog." I think that you should probably call it "the breakfast of champions." In either case, you look and smell like shit afterwards.

While were at it, for gawd's sake man, stop trying to lick your own balls! With your fat ass and beer belly, I'll bet you can't even bend over enough to tie your own shoes anymore. I'd show you how it's done, sport-o, but you had mine cut off. Remember that, huh? In any case, you're just embarassing yourself everytime you try.

Jeez, if the Mrs. didn't like you so much, I'd take you to the vet and have you fixed too.

Great story Spackle!

I totally understand that a dog will eat a "ground score", especially when there's damn good food so tantalizingly decorating it. As for CEP's comment, I've seen retriever's eat shit-- but it's completely due to indivudual differences-- I've seen examples from many breeds partake now and again, but not all members from a breed group. So, CEP, you have some decent dogs there, smart individuals....

As a story, I enjoyed the background ambience, as the rowdy crowd tickles my fancy. But also the dual shitting of dog and porta-potty, that was double the fun.

And yes, it's no stretch that a baseball bat would be present at these preceedings, no matter where it had to be pulled from! No one questions the machine gun pulled from a violin case.... these are just the (corn) kernals of truth in stereotypes.

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'Hey that sounds pretty nasty, how about a courtesy flush over there?' (AP1)

CEP wonders how a baseball bat arrives at a party. Ever heard of a pinata?

Pulling My Pants Down For Peace, Plop and Posterity!

There were also kids (bikers in training) at the party who were playing softball at a nearby diamond. I assume the bat was one of the kids. I do like to think however that these guys came pre-armed. It seems oh so more romantic that way. Nothing like a Louisville slugger passed down from father to son with various blood stains and teeth marks on it. I guess im just a sentimental guy.

Most of the people calling themselves bikers these days would piss their leather pants if they crossed paths with the real deal. The biker image has taken a shift toward respectability while retaining enough of its outlaw undertone to make it appealing without being socially unacceptable.

Take a look at the fellow riding the next fancy Harley you see. Chances are, he's a doctor or lawyer out pretending he's Brando in "The Wild One." And these doctor-bikers seem to be particularly fond of the nickname Mad Dog, as if podiatry isn't enough of an outlet for their wild side.

spackle, sounds like you got to hang with some honest to God scooter trash. Good times, man.

I used to ride Harleys but I quit because so many of the other bikers expected me to be part of their phony poseur biker culture. Like I wasn't cool if I didn't wear a black T shirt and have a chain drive wallet and a skanky chick. To hell with those losers.

I too am a biker (chick) and have rode with all types of bikers out there. Although I'd consider myself somewhere in the middle of the extremes of riders, I can honestly say that I put up with a lot of shit, but can also dole out my fair share of shit too! I can talk shit, walk shit, and bullshit with the best of them and that's fine with most of our biking friends. The ones that can't ride while having to poop are usually left at home eating their ass mints. It's the more adventurous of us that are out there clenching our bungholes of steel as we rumble down the road.

And I just realized that too way too long to type and it doesn't sound too coherent. Too mush cold medicine, I think.

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Rock-n-roll! Poopy-poo!

AD, Very true, very true. I live in an area that turns into a bike wonderland in the summer.They are almost all in there 50s and come up for the weekend to there second homes and trade in there suits and dentist outfits for brand new leathers. I pretty much laugh at them, especially when they form there own little gangs complete with colors on there jackets. Its like a bunch of grown ass men playing cowboys and indians.

Their.

Spackle, this was a hilarious story! Good work! I have known a few bikers and this story is extremely believable. REAL bikers and shit stories seem to go together.

Well, poser bikers and shit stories go together too, I guess. Those old people on bikes often wear Depends.

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If a man farts and no one's around, does he make a sound?

ggg. Thanks. I always get them confused. Dyslexia is a bitch.

That must have been a boring ass party if all you could think of to do is decorate a pile of dogshit... I take it the Martha Stewart of bikers wasn't consulted on party games,etc...

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Don't be playin' with the Queen of Sharts

That was hilarious. What was the beer made of? Fizzy piss?

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Buttsex results in a dirty cock.
~Tucker Max

All work and no play makes Crapzooka a shitty boy.

Yep, theres no shortage of pretend 'bad asses' here in Sydney, either. You can see 'em on any weekend with their mega dollar Harleys with not a speck of dust on them, congregating at some pub or other about 50 miles from the city centre, posing and bullshitting to each other.
50 miles is about the limit, because they realise that they've got another 50 mile ride home and man, 'thats a long-assed ride, bro'.
(And before anyone accuses me of being jealous, I ride a naked big-bore 4-cyl fuel-injected Japper because I bloody well want to).
Conversely, some good mates of mine are "the real deal", and they are great fun to be around.
Baseball bats? You betcha.