Kreese’s Korner: I Had Nut Cancer

I hate ruining the big surprise in the title of the letter or whatever this is, but what the hell else should the title be?  It’s kind of the whole deal.  Anyway, I’m getting ahead of myself.  I’ll start at the beginning, and you had better read the whole fucking thing. 

So I was in the shower a couple of weeks ago, doing my usual routine of flexing and checking myself out in the shower mirror I had installed a few years ago.  I got to a move I created, called “Kreese’s Gambit,” which involves a deep knee squat with my back to the mirror.  Due to the warmth of the shower, my ballsack is usually pretty loose and saggy, so I try to see how close I can get it to the shower floor without it touching.  It’s a great leg workout, and you can bet your old lady’s milkbags that the bitches eat it up. 

So I was in the middle of a Kreese’s Gambit when I noticed something odd about my sack.  It seemed bigger than usual, and I remembered that my right nut had been hurting occasionally for a few weeks.  I stuck my hand down there, which I should have known better than to do when I was still maintaining a Kreese’s Gambit (I know, it just sounds like you dip down and dunk your nuts in shower water.  It’s harder than that, retards.  YOU try it.), and I threw my balance off.  Then I fucking passed out or slipped or something, knocking the shit out of my head in the process. 

When I came to a few minutes later, I dried off and checked my head.  I had a pretty nasty goose egg so I sat on the sofa (naked, natch) and chilled for a little while in front of some lesbo porn.   Before too long, I remembered why I fell and felt my nuts again.  Sure enough, there was something different. 

Okay.  This is the part of the story that some of you fuckwads might think is funny.  I assure you, it’s not.  Taking my background into consideration, my initial assumption about the nature of my condition was perfectly reasonable.  That’s what my doctor said after I gave him a look like I was going to kick the shit out of him, and it’s the God damned truth.

I thought I had grown a third nut.  I’m pretty sure I had heard something about that when I was younger, and it made sense.  You see all these weak, pathetic wusses out there in the world, and then you look at a specimen like me.  What’s the difference?  Biologically, there’s not really much of one.  Men all have a head, two arms, two legs, one cock, and two nuts.  But I’m different.  It’s no stretch to say that I’m more of a man than some dweeb who sits behind a desk crunching stock markets or what-the-fuck-ever, so why wouldn’t I have an extra nut?  Balls are what make a man a man.  Since I’m easily three times the man that most “men” are, why wouldn’t I have three nuts? 

So I tried to think of what I should do next.  I thought maybe there was some kind of club for guys like me that only WE know about.  I figured the only way to find out about medicinal issues like this was to go see a doctor. 

When I got to the doctor’s office, I told the broad at the front desk what I was there for.  She was a cute piece of ass, but I could tell she thought she was funny or something, because she did that thing where you have to laugh but you try to stop yourself, so you kind of cough.  I was pissed, but I only hit women if they mouth off to me.  I’m an honorable man.

I sat there for way too long, for probably 10 minutes before they called my name.  I waited in the exam room for probably another 5 before this nerdy sonofabitch came in and asked me what the problem was.

I’ll skip over most of this, because it involves this faggot doctor wanting to see my dick, and even worse, wanting to FEEL AROUND DOWN THERE.  To make a long story short, I tried to knock his queer ass out, but I passed out again.  AGAIN!

When I woke up, some beefy black dude was standing over me, talking about how lucky I was.  He was using a bunch of medical jargon that I didn’t understand any more than he understands the difference between karate and jujitsu.  I was getting pissed, and I told him to use real words and not black doctor street-jive.  Only I didn’t use the word “black” because they were pumping me full of some kind of goof juice.  That must have pissed him off, because he left and shot me a shitty look.  Whatever.  I had a right to be pissed: I still didn’t know what the fuck was going on!

I must have passed out because of the shit they were pumping into me, because when I woke up next it was nighttime.  This other doctor woke me up and started talking about “the surgery.”  Well, my dad told me about these Jew doctors and their bullshit surgeries.  They say they’re taking something out of you, but all they’re really doing is sucking the goddamn cash right out of your wallet when all you really need is some aspirin and a shot of the old redeye.  So I say “I’ll be damned if you think you’re gonna cut me open!”  Then he says “But Mr. Kreese, we’ve already performed the surgery.  Your testicle was cancerous, and it’s almost a miracle that your other one wasn’t malignant as well.” 

I guess I didn’t realize what he was getting at, because I got really pissed and told him that he better not have fucked up my third nut.  He got a really stupid look on his face and said-

You know what?  I’m fucking sick of story time.  Two weeks ago, I was on cloud nine.  I had three nuts, uh…, well I guess really just the three nuts thing.  Now I have one.  One fucking nut.  They cut the other one off because they said it had a tumor on it.  Not a third nut, a fucking tumor. 

Go ahead.  Laugh.  Just remember, if I see anyone so much as crack a smile around me from now on I’ll know why, and I’m gonna kick the fucking shit out of them and piss on their fucking head with my one-nut dick.  Then they can go to the hospital and tell the doctor that they’re bleeding and sticky with piss because of the karate guy with one ball.  Yeah, the cops will really believe THAT. 

It just goes to show you what a bunch of dumbass Jews doctors really are.  No matter how much they say it, nuts aren’t what make you a man.  I kick even more ass with one nut than I did with two. 

 Or three.

Sincerely,

John Kreese

In Defense of the Big Bullies

I was originally planning on making a humorous post about the NCAA tournament, but my thought process was interrupted by the shrieking of whiny college basketball pundits about how little representation there was in this year’s field of 65 by teams from “mid-major” conferences. 

This is a subject I can rant about for days, but I’ll try to keep it short.  Most of you probably know that I’m a gi-fucking-normous Indiana fan, and with that comes an unintentional but nonetheless omnipresent arrogance when it comes to basketball.  When one of your earliest sports memories is Keith Smart hitting “The Shot” to seal up Indiana’s fifth national championship, it’s hard to be humble.  For the rest of your life. 

Anyway, I’ve read and heard any number of fuckwads bitching about how the Big Ten got 6 teams into the tournament this year, while significance-deficient schools like Appalachian State will be forced to go to the NIT. 

Well, uh, yeah.  The Big Ten is, like, the Big Ten.  You know, with teams that have made it to the Final Four since the three-point shot was introduced?  A bunch of them?  MULTIPLE TIMES?  Yeah, Michigan State didn’t have 32 wins like Dayton Western A&M did, but that’s because Michigan State had to play OTHER BIG TEN TEAMS ALL SEASON.  No offense, but if your conference schedule includes a home-and-away with the Rochester School for Blind Deaf-Mutes, your unblemished conference record isn’t all that impressive. 

I’m sorry, but unless a mid-major has proven it can run with the big boys 4 or 5 times, and nearly run the table in its weak conference, the only tournament it deserves to play in is the N.I.T.

It’s simple, folks: the most talented coaches and players go to the ACC, Big Ten, SEC, Big East, etc. This means that the mid-majors are usually leftovers and also-rans. Sure, you get an AJ Graves every once in a while, but by and large these teams have inflated win totals due to their incredibly weak schedules. Yes, 25 wins is impressive, and heck! they may even surprise a team like Indiana once or twice a year. That, however, is because the mid-major is playing like it’s the national fucking championship, and Indiana is playing like it’s a pick-up game. They call early-season games against nobodies like Indiana State “dangerous” not because Indiana State is a phenomenal team, but because they have been psychotically obsessing about that game against Indiana since it was scheduled 3 years ago, and IU only remembered to show up because that autistic kid that hit all those 3-pointers in high school is ISU’s starting point guard and “Radio” is their head coach.

It’s a cold, hard fact of life: some teams have it and some teams don’t. Automatic bids are there for a reason: weak conferences get their one weak team in per year. If you don’t play well enough to win your conference tournament, you don’t belong in the Big Dance. That big win you had against Indiana or Kentucky or Wisconsin in November doesn’t mean as much when you can’t beat the Missouri Western Christian A&M Tech State Fightin’ Drunk Injuns to punch your ticket to the tournament.

I know it’s fun to root for the little guy.  The sad fact of the matter is that the little guy doesn’t stand a chance anymore, and it takes all the fun out of the tournament for everyone else.  Just remember, would you rather see North Carolina beat the Barley Tech Whirlin’ Weevils by 42 in the Sweet 16, or would you rather see the Tarheels lose to Michigan State in 2 overtimes?  I prefer the latter.