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« Deal is Done | Main | Belize Cove »

My Balls


You never realize how many body parts attach to your balls until you have them surgically mutilated. I changed my mind 100 times in the hour before I left, even stopping the car on the way when reading parts of the pamphlet I’d been given.

“Infrequently, a patient may experience pain around the testicles up to 20 years after the vasectomy.”

20 years??? What exactly does “infrequently” mean? As a gambling man, I’d like some more specific odds making.

“Very rarely, a small blood vessel may enter the scrotum and form a clot. A small clot will probably dissolve over time but a large one can be painful and usually requires reopening of the scrotum for drainage. This procedure requires hospitalization and a general anesthetic”.

Still I managed to make myself show up.

The vasectomy itself, as they told me, wasn’t “painful” - in the sense that it didn’t hurt hurt. But it was certainly one of the most all-around uncomfortable experiences of my life, just in knowing what is happening and the anticipation of what it could and should feel like.

I could not feel much of anything save for the needle that delivered the local anesthetic and then just barely. Had I felt anything like it just walking down the street it would barely warrant a quick scratch but I wasn't on the street. I was splayed out in a doctors office with my prepped and disinfected lunch being cut open, pulled apart rewired and stitched up and I knew it.



So I laid back, ate Fritos, made some calls on my cell phone and made as many jokes as I could, all of which fell on deaf ears. I guess he’d heard em all.

After the shot, I don’t have the slightest idea what happened down there. I’d just look at Renee’s expressions of barf-bag horror and assume the worst. Ask any Wallenda and they’ll tell you - Just don’t look down.

I told him he could take some extra scrot-skin to make eyelids for burn victims.


Honey took some pics but the doc wasn’t brimming in his humor and we certainly didn’t want him to be shaky-handed.

Product Placement

I was about to call Rogan and have him talk me through it “Fear Factor” style but by the time I thought of it, it was done.

I was bid farewell and ran into the world like a hero. No bed rest for me. I felt just fine. Let’s go run some errands.

Shortly after leaving the Spy Store where I picked up gear for an upcoming project, I realized the reason I had felt so good.

Anesthetic, stupid.

Anesthetic wears off, stupid.

By the time I got home I was walking like I just rode a spastic, bony horse bareback in an all-day rodeo. And it just got worse as the day went. Like blue-balls with stitches and I hadn’t even thought to ask for pain-killers.




Scrot-skin eyelids

I took my last Xanax and drank a six pack. Sleep is the best pain-killer there is but I couldn't sleep. I couldn't do anything because, as I said, your balls are connected to everything. They are connected to your stomach muscles and your leg muscles and your lungs. You can't laugh or cough or yell and I prayed to Gods that I don't believe in against getting a boner.

Don’t sit up or sit down or push a piss. Just let it dribble

Today, the day after, I walk like an old man and it’s better - more of a mental thing than anything but not what any leper would call comfort.

They say to soak in a warm tub and I say eat a dick and give me Vicodin and they do. Honey’s going to pick up the scrip and I sat down to take my first shit since the knifing. Afraid to push my ugly lunch too far between my legs, I ended up pissing all over my sweatpants. Now I’m going to soak in a warm tub and think about what a great story this would be to tell my children one day.


Tampa Bay made my day but I got fucked on the wager, betting the under 44, so buy my CD or the DVD or simply send me 631 dollars via PayPal.

Dave Fulton and Henry Phillips made it down to the bar to watch the game, as well as a halftime appearance by Extreme Elvis who was in town to do a private party. He was in a kind mood and did not urinate on anyone.

Sign the mailing list. I'm considering doing a barnstorming run this summer and just crashing towns across the country, playing whatever bar has a stage. The more people I have from your town, the more likely I'll show up there. Spread the word. Pass the CD's and DVD around.


Half Time Show

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