Two dudes kicking eachother in the crotch reminds me that the world is beautiful.

“How can this be?”, you ask skeptically sipping your fancy Mint Julep, twirling your monocle in disbelief.

“Well,” I explain to you as I turn away from the fireplace cooking today’s kill, a large woodland boar with a missing eye (Ol’ Sarge the baby killer we called him).

“Two dudes kicking eachother in the crotch is the simplest form of comedy. It shows the basest of human reactions. Something more related to neural reflexes, stimulus and response, rather than social and cultural references.”

“Do tell,” you encourage as you swirl your drink, and pet my three legged hunting dog.

I turn the boar on the spit, and look at you forming my words carefully. “Well Terry, if two dudes can still kick each other in the crotch, and be happy about it. This means that the terrorists haven’t won.”

“And,” I add while serving you the tail of the boar first (a sign of respect where I am from), “I love you Terry.”

Then we make out for like two hours.

It’s pretty hot, I won’t lie to you.

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