Light and hearty observations from a fat and ugly guy. Home of hackneyed drivel and ersatz-existentialist effluence. Choleric biliousness a specialty, since 1958.

In Wisconsin, they got no balls....

You think Wisconsin, you think: Yon Yonson. Or maybe: beer and braunschweiger. And now you can add balls to the list.

Not balls as in, say, the football Packers or the baseball Brewers. No. Balls, as in: testicles. Grilled gonads--100 pounds of them--are what was on the menu at Mama's Place Bar & Grill in Elderon, which just completed their annual nuts fry-up. This is where taste-bud challenged lunatics pony up $5 to munch all-you-can-eat bull, goat, and lamb testicles. Mama says: "Hey, what else is there to do in a small town?"

Other than chomp on bull balls? In a small town? Two alternatives spring to mind: yiz can drink, or yiz can fuck. Eating balls--that's way the frigging hell down on the list.

It does, however, bring new meaning to my favorite catch phrase, which is of course: buff my scrotum!

posted by Nigel St.John Regina Smegmatica Howle-Raines @ 1:55 PM