Your (Hopefully) One And Only Penis Cancer Alert
Chances are you don’t follow my Twitter feed (over there to the right). Almost no one does, which is really too bad because every time someone follows me, $47,000 gets donated to ScreamyWheelz! a Meals on Wheels charity for crack babies with AIDS. Way to not think about the crack babies with AIDS, you monsters! But if you do follow me on Twitter, you may have noticed today that I posted a link to a story so serious that the entire state of Iowa sat up and took notice: Sex With Animals Can Lead To Penis Cancer.
Hahaha, hailing from Illinois, I like to make fun of Iowa. It’s a friendly, back and forth rivalry many neighboring states have. Someone from Illinois will tell a joke like, “Why are all football fields in Iowa covered in Astroturf? To keep the cheerleaders from grazing!” And an Iowan will respond with something clever like “Mooo!” But penis cancer is no laughing matter. Unless it is a result of boinking elk, then it’s hilarious. Admit it, you laughed when you read it. I know you did, and because I use state-of-the-art technology on this website to secretly activate your webcams, I also know who was picking their nose at the time. I love technology.
But as funny as the headline is, it’s even better as a tool to weed out the deves among us. Go into your next meeting at work, plug your laptop into the projector and pull up that article. Then watch everyone’s reaction. Almost everyone will break into a smile and start laughing. The guy who breaks out into a sweat and reflexively covers his balls? Pigfucker.
While I was searching for perverts at my office, someone refreshed my memory regarding another way getting your groove on with the Animal Planet crowd can kill you. He was referring to the infamous Enumclaw Horse Sex Case wherein a man was videotaped while on the receiving end of a horse’s affections. Yeah, that’s enough to make anyone wince. Dude got fucked by a horse. And as anyone who’s ever seen the Budweiser Clydesdales in person can tell you, that’s not going to end well.
And it didn’t. After the screaming was done, the person, fearing that such an embarrassing injury would get reported and cause him to lose his security clearance at his employer (Boeing), refused to get treatment. And I guess that makes sense because how in the hell are you going to bring yourself to tell the doctor what happened to you?
Doctor: Ok, and what seems to be the problem today Mr. uh… Smith?
Pervo: Well, I’ve been feeling kind of run-down lately. Some sniffles, a scratchy throat…
Doctor: Uh-huh. Any other symptoms?
Pervo: No, none that I can think of… Oh, and also, ahorseexplodedmyasshole. But mainly the sniffles and throat thing.
Was he right to worry about losing his security clearance? Sure. After all, “Listen, you equine cumrag, give us the secret plans or we’ll tell everyone you’re Secretariat’s bitch” has got to be an effective form of blackmail. But losing your job has got to be better than what happened to this guy: A buddy dropped him off in an E/R and emergency room wait times being what they are, the guy died before anyone could even remove the saddle from him.
What happened after this guy died is what really blows my mind. The police managed to track down his associates and discovered not only a large amount of videotapes, but came to the conclusion that “a significant number of people” were attracted to this remote farm and visited it on a regular basis to get their Mr. Ed on. Ok, this raises a couple of practical questions:
One would guess that if you’ve got a thing for bumping uglies with other species, you’d kinda keep that shit to yourself. I mean, that’s just common sense, right? “You know, I don’t think the guys at the office are going to think it’s particularly cool that I get blow jobs from chickens.” That has to be your mindset. So how the fuck do these people find each other? “Say Frank, your lawn sure looks good this year! … You want to go out back and 69 a llama with me?”
Also, how did the owner of the barn not know this was going on? The candle-light, the Barry White CD’s, the empty horse-Viagra prescriptions… He had to have known something was going on. I guess he was busy calling up oncologists trying to find someone who specialized in schlong cancer.
Live and learn, huh? To sum it up, if your idea of a dream vacation is a long weekend on Noah’s Ark, or even if you just live in Iowa: For the love of God, wear a condom.
Oh for Pete’s sake. I read the actual article earlier today. Well, actually I read half of it and said, ‘gross’, then moved on to the next item.
But you? You took it a whole ‘notha level.
PS – I’m really glad I covered the eye of my web cam. I knew I did that for a reason.
We must endeavor to learn, Vesta. You know what they say… You can get busy learning about horse fucking, or you can get busy dying. I think Morgan Freeman said that. I may have paraphrased a bit.
What happens to the people who get penis cancer just through bad luck? Will people label them as horse fuckers? Seems a little unfair, I mean, as if having penis cancer wasn’t already unfair to begin with…
I had cancer once, and it was bad enough without my cancer leading others to believe I was molesting kangaroos. So let the record reflect that while farm lovin’ MAY result in dick cancer, having dick cancer does not necessarily mean you fucked an ox. Unless you live in Iowa.
Shabby research. The study fails to find drill down to find if some animals are more toxic to your junk than others.
They tried, but the pit vipers were problematic, and they lost several lab assitants when they overdosed on Viagra, Vitamin E, and alcohol.
Woah… well there’s yet another reason why I won’t be seeking bestiality any time soon. Or ever.
The other being goat-breath, I assume?
You claim to be from Illinois. I don’t believe it one bit. There are plenty of areas in our fine state that a sheep is not only a farm animal, but a prom date as well. Just saying.
Yeah, but as we all know, Illinois consists of the Chicago metro-area and then the rest of the state which is liable to like the fucking St. Louis Cardinals, so they don’t count.
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Not if you’re from Iowa.