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Whole Lotta' Balls before/after Saw on the news that an elite french restaurant celebrated its one millionth goose by strangling it carefully and boiling it in its own blood before serving it in a grand ceremony. Something about that strikes me wrong. Carefully strangled? Sometimes the less I know about the food, the better. Like the girl at the gym said, "I felt like eating bad, so I went to taco bell, and I saw the guy that made my food come up from the back. He looked dirty, so I didn't eat it." And in other news, the castration story out of Detroit was finally sentenced. Guy got 14 mos to 4 years in prison for practicing medicine without a license. The judge was pissed. It was a bit stiffer than the normal sentence. His rationale was that the young man had commited the offense up to fifty times and showed reckless endangerment of the public good. That guy has a lot of balls. (Had to, that one was begging to be let out of the genie bottle. Seriously, though. He had his latests patient's pair in a jar in the fridge.) Think of it. One hundred balls. Snip, snip, snip, snip, snip.... The guy said he learned to do it in asia, where apparently one doesn not need a license to cut off balls. Any dude with a pair of scissors will do. I have to thank the judge for protecting the castration crowd from illicit purveyors of castration. I'll sleep better at night knowing that their lives aren't in danger. How can you not love your balls? I LOVE my balls. I love my cock, too. Probably more than my balls. I wrote an entry about my cock last night, but didn't feel like posting it. So, in the interest of total honesty, here it is sans segue and cutting the lead in: Having a cock is so like having a whole nother person or personality living in your pants. A girl could have nothing for me, but to make herself available to me, and instantly I think of a way to satisfy his lecherous desires. Brushing that away, I make it through a couple minutes of daily life, then the ubiquitous thought floats across the mind, "you know, you could have her, really easily." No. Shhh. I don't like her. Its all wrong. She's really not that attractive to me. Silence. A few minutes go by. Maybe I find myself talking to said girl, being a nice guy. That, and she seeks me out. And I have an open mind policy. I listen to anyone who wants to talk to me. It plays right into his plans, always. "You know, her lips wrapped around-" godammit. And then I feel a stirring in my pants as it climbs erect, almost as if answering some silent call that I never conciously made. Not really. "She'd do it, too. You can have her. It would feel soooo good. C'mon..." NO. "Lips and tongue on your cock, you know how you like it." yeeeeaaaah. "Especially the tongue on the underside of your cock, you know how you like that." Yeah, no kidding. I love that. "So, c'mon, let's-" Dammit! No! Back to sleep! And so on... As much as I bitch about its motives, clipping the balls would rob me of the personality living in my pants. I'd feel so all alone.
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