Mad Mike's Anal Advice

Normally this would be the issue where I would talk about putting balls into holes, or bouncing balls, and you all would laugh because that's apparently funny and you all have dirty fuckin' minds.

But no, this time I'm doing something a little different. This time I'm getting serious.

This month we're talking about ball cancer. After all, August is home to International Ball Cancer Day, a day where we all pretend to have ball cancer because apparently it's fucking enlightening.

Did you know that ball cancer affects 89% of modern men and over 50% of today's women? Did you know that the majority of them don't even know it? Sure, sure, call it a libcuck conspiracy if you must, but it's a true statistic. Ball cancer is where your balls become so big you can't fit them in your pants. I'm sure this is something you conservative types know all too well—after all, why else would you drive Ford F150s and Dodge Rams? It's not because you need to carry a lot of shit, it's because you need extra-large drink-holders to rest your giant fuckin' cancer-laden balls while you drive.

Ball cancer also lowers your sperm count. One would think bigger balls would mean more sperm, but when the majority of your balls are comprised of mutated cells—basically the bad boys of ball cells: sterile bastards who like to look tougher than they are, and they self-replicate by being so in love with themselves—it's no surprise that you're shooting blanks.

Ladies and gentleman, treat your balls well. Give them a squeeze. If they feel lumpier than normal, go get that old fellow at the corner—let's call him your doctor—to have a touch.

Stay safe.