Why do I not find this hard to believe...I mean every male that attains the age of 10 knows that merely touching the middle appendage of the meat sac can lead to blindness...and you ladies wonder why we won't STOP and ask for directions...we can't see in the first place...how the hell do you think we ended up lost anyways...(honestly I must confess I was absolutely thrilled to find out that wasn't true...I couldn't figure out how I was gonna tell my folks that I had suddenly lost my eye sight due to an accidental brushing with the beaver beater)...aside from blindness meat packing pud pullers must also be concerned with the possibility of contracting CTS (Can't Touch Shit...aka Carpel Tunnel Syndrome)...what is it with those pansy ass people that get carpel tunnel syndrome and act as if the world is ending...I mean seriously...they act as if anything heavier than a fart in the wind is going to cause them immense pain...CTS can be a very revealing issue associated with the flesh flute fondlers all over the world...especially if it is ONLY evident in the dominant appendage...there is a simple solution to this situation however...I learned it way back in the day by watching the WWF...and applying a "tag team" format for my methods of manual manipulation...one eyed worm wrestling wranglers also need to be worried about the onset of the dreaded..."tennis elbow"...a misnomer if ever there was one...how about we just call it what it is..."Jack-off Junction Degeneration"...listen folks...if a male member in your family is walking around the house with one forearm looking like Popeye popped a few cans of steroid spinach and the other looking like a vegan would mistake it for an edible vine...Jack-off Junction Degeneration is the least of your concerns...that guy is gonna need some serious..."Shuffle Pump Reconstructive Surgery"...there are signs to look for my friends...if you're husband/boyfriend/f**kbuddy spends so much time in the bathroom it seems like a WWII reinforced beach bunker...they have some serious issues in the sexual depravity department...if your person of significant interest plays pocket pool better than Paul Newman in The Color of Money...chances are he is chalking his cue in public every chance he gets...if your bed buddy comes walking out of the water closet looking like the modern day equivalent of Aqua-man with webbing between his fingers and toes...I dare say he has invented his own form of Gorilla Glue...watch out for shiny spots on the sheets they quickly morph into sticky substances similar to Super Glue...another sure sign that someone is headed for a major catastrophe of the trouser trout variety is if they seem to run out of socks long before the rest of their clothes...filthy bastards we are...letting little Sammy the Spelunker spit all over the soiled shin sheets we place over our feet...personally I don't punish the pope as much as I used to...I hire handmaidens for that...I'm either too busy or too lazy to do it myself...haven't decided which...but I must admit...it is much easier to clean up if you don't use your own hands...oh shit...here I am...rambling on and on about playing with peckers and you were waiting on a meat packing piece...funny...I wish I had a video camera so I could watch all of you try to find signs of self-satisfaction with your spouses this weekend...what fun what fun!!!
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