Someone reached this blog via the search query above.
I’ve never been in an Escalade, but you can comfortably have sex in a ’67 bug if you know what you’re doing. Folding down the back seats in a Prius provides you with six feet of horizontal room. Comparisonwise, I would expect the Cadillac to offer accommodations worthy of a motel room out on Route 7, just past the truck stop.
But questions arise. Can you truly be comfortable, even behind the wheel, knowing the carbon footprint of an Escalade? Just driving to a remote spot in this monster contributes to ongoing polar-bear-assassinating climate change. And once parked, do you become a target for rival gang bangers?
“Escalade” means to scale a fortified wall or rampart. Does this suggest that your sex is occurring with someone unwilling or uncertain? Is ramming a part involved, ha ha? Whereas sex in an Oldsmobile would feature geezers?
I spotted an Escalade in the parking lot at work and interviewed the fellow who got out of it. When the drift of my questions became apparent to him, he invited me inside for a tour and some man-on-man action. I declined because he was parked in a handicapped slot with no placard in view. I wasn’t worried about interruptions; I just felt that he probably lacked essential sensitivity, which is a must for me, even, for example, at two in the morning in a leather-bar bathroom.
But I digress. What does it mean to be “comfortable”? I asked the Dalai Lama this when he visited Columbus. He told me that he was comfortable right then and asked me if I was comfortable too. I had had two drinks and I told him that I was very comfortable. Then I told him that joke about “Are you comfortable?” “I make a living” and he laughed. You see, what he was saying was, you could be in your Escalade, sweating torrents because the a/c isn’t on, crazy on a meth high, laughing and crying like a psychotic mental case whilst having sex with your ex because the two of you have been arguing like savages and taking turns slapping each other in the mouth, and the door flies open and some state trooper says, “Well, are you two having fun in here blocking the middle lane of the freeway during rush hour?” and you realize, at least later, how complicated these questions can be.