May 12, 2004
my mind is a terrible thing
I got the idea for this post when I read a blog-buddy of mine this morning. Some very clever businessmen have invented a butt-kicking machine. They intend to make money charging $1 a pop to have someone dress up as Saddam Hussein and have his butt kicked by their machine.
I'm all for invention and making money, but I don't really get a charge out of this idea. A kick in the butt is nothing. In fact, sometimes a kick in the butt is GOOD for you.
But a kick in the NUTS, one that rattles the family jewels clean up to your eyeballs, is a different story. You wimmen who read me don't need to know about this, so I politely request that you go away and watch Martha Stewart reruns for a while. I'm going to talk to the guys here.
If someone ever invents a machine called "The Ultimate Nut-Crusher," I may invest some money. If I had to pick the top ten painful injuries I've had in my life, I would pick:
1) Passing a kidney stone. Man, that hurts.
2) Acute pancreatitus. Yeah, that hurts, too.
3) A broken hand. I almost passed out from the pain.
4) A herniated disc in the back. You'll walk like Groucho Marx for a while when that happens to you.
5) Gum surgery, coupled with six caps and a root canal. I was in dreamland while the dentist did his work, but I hurt badly afterward.
The other five are ALL being kicked in the nuts when I didn't expect it. You guys know the feeling. Waves of nausea. Impending blackouts. The desire to cup your scrotum in both hands and wallow in the dirt like a pig. You can't breathe. You can't talk. You DAMN SURE can't stand up. You just want to die, drowning in a puddle of your own puke.
Am I correct, guys?
Here is one place where I have a real problem with God. He put a design flaw into the male anatomy. If GOD had ever been kicked in the nuts, he would have made male testicles out of stainless-steel ball bearings and stored them somewhere inaccessable. But he didn't. He left them dangling, in a neat pouch, right between the legs, where a foot can easily find them through either accident or intent. Plus, he made the jewels incredibly sensitive to pain.
Does that sound like something a competent God would do? FUCK NO! That sounds like something a woman dreamed up in a hormonal hot-flash. I'm talking extreme male vulnerability here.
When Quinton was about four years old, I came home from work one evening and sat on the couch. He came running to hug me, screaming "Daaa-deee!" as he jumped into my lap. One of his bony young knees scored a direct hit on my nutsack. I ended up on the floor, rolling around like a dog in cowshit, while cupping my balls in both hands and trying not to drown in a puddle of my own puke.
"Daddy, what's wrong?" Quinton asked.
I finally gathered enough breath to answer. "You don't need to know. You'll find out on your own, sooner or later."
He is 10 years old and he's already been nut-hammered a couple of times. That shit will follow him the rest of his life, too, because a man's nuts shouldn't be where they are located, they shouldn't be as sensitive as they are and they should be off-limits in a fight. God fucked-up when he created balls and put them where he did.
You want to get Iraqi prisoners to talk? Just threaten them with the Amazing Ronco Nut-Crusher! It kicks, it pounds, it dices and slices! (Batteries not included in the $19.95 offer if you call THIS NUMBER right NOW!) Wheel that baby out, fire it up and tell the prisoners to take off their clothes. Yeah, they'll talk.
Bejus. My blood runs cold just thinking about it.
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