If I had a nickel for every time my wife threatened to knock me out, cut off my penis and throw it in the garbage disposal...
I heard the news yesterday. Well actually I overheard it. Some gals around the office were chortling about the husband in Garden Grove whose wife doped his victuals, strapped him to the bed, hacked off his willy with a carving knife and chucked the severed member in the disposal because "he deserved it." I didn't learn the details of the story until I got home last night and it seemed to me such a grizzly thing oughtn't to provoke workplace giggles, but ought or not, there's a good dose of funny about it.
I'd sure like to pretend that I can't understand why apparently well-adjusted women find the idea of mutilating a man's genitals defensible. I'd like to pretend I can't understand that, but actually I can. I have no idea whether the as yet unnamed victim in this case really deserved to have his soldier fed to the grinding maw of a kitchen fixture. Perhaps he didn't. Perhaps he just married a whackadoodle. We can't really know that yet, although I'm willing to bet we'll know a lot more soon enough. Here's a nice, juicy case Court TV can't wait to sink its teeth into -- WAIT -- I mean, I bet the media are just aching to wrap themselves around this one -- no -- how about, here's a hard-hitting news piece that will leave you panting for more?
The first thing about stories like this is, if you intend to Google search a case and you don't know the names of the offender or victim or anything else about it, typing the word "penis" all by itself in the search bar will return way more than the results you were looking for. The second thing about stories like this is, with the sorts of things some men can dream up in the dark, ghastly corners of their minds to do to women, is it any wonder that every so often a given woman snaps and goes after her husband's unit with whatever implement is at hand?
After I revised my search by adding the words "chopped off," I did some more searching and I hit right quickly upon a short list of guys who most certainly do deserve to have an angry woman remove their soul poles with box cutters or pinking shears or whatever is lying about the house. That list includes, naturally enough a goodly percentage of male Afghans and the guy who designed these atrocities.
Were it up to me, however, I'd put one man in particular ahead of all the backwater misogynist zealots and torture peddlers in the line of men to be separated permanently from their joysticks. Ladies, I give you "Fred Phelps." Oh would that a dating service existed to connect dangerously insane, blade-wielding cane whackers with shriveled, hate-spewing Gollum sock puppets!
The congregation of Westboro Baptist Church (the Phelps family) no-showed at Betty Ford's funeral, mercifully enough. They probably got hung up in Topeka picketing a co-ed spelling bee. Now before they get anymore ideas, why can't a woman who's had by-god enough swing through Kansas and give Fred a quick trim?
[For the record, yes, nine euphemisms for a man's reproductive organ is my new personal record for a single blog post.]