Crotch Trauma Friday: I know it’s late, and you’ll like it that way.
Sorry for the lack of posting today, watching Notre Dame struggle to find its collective ass with 22 hands has made me a teensy bit apathetic/without faith in mankind or a higher power. At this point, we might as well slap some helmets on babies, or give our offensive line firearms. Sure, our entire team would be incarcerated before the first commercial break, but I bet you we’d break positive rushing yards.
Anyways, here’s a guy getting his nards taken downtown for questioning:
That’s how I felt on Saturday, except I don’t have the mental discipline and focused chi energy of the Shaolin monks. I’m afraid Saturday’s game may have made me sterile, which at this point doesn’t sound too terrible, since I’m not sure I want to bring a child into the world where his Daddy’s football team is this inept.
