Kicking God in the Balls

There’s no other explanation for it, couldn’t be.  In an age where blaming everything else but one’s own actions is normal, it’s really about time the big guy got kicked in the balls. Figuring that most of the shit going on visually and up front is mostly, in fact directly, contributable to men, it seems appropriate that God is responsible for their actions.

Now ball kicking or strikes directed to that area are purported to be excruciating, in relative terms.  In the men realm of what constitutes hell, it’s not global annihilation by their dominant fist or being hogtied and forced to speak about their true feelings and fickle fears.  It’s the unexpected and unprepared possibility that their uncovered and unprotected private parts, except when on full member mission, could be struck by heel, knee, fist or any other non-organic implement.  Ask any male what their priority checklist run down includes and it’s a sure bet that coverage of the yam bag, giggle berries and love spuds top the list.

​Given that Gods nutmeat must be really big, omnipotent bag daddy of all, it’s only fitting that his deathticles be given a good old working over.   Organizing a global sack attack and gathering up as many rusty onions as possible will go a long way to performing the father of all pendulum smacks (FOAPS) on Lordy.  The chance of success is of course very low.  However a blow so low may be the only way to bring Mr Potato Head and his cretins to their knees.

​Image credit.  https://www.flickr.com/photos/circularpoetry/99542927