Atomic Nerds

Well, according to the standings in Ambulance Driver’s Kilted to Kick Cancer challenge, any stops we can pull out here in Nerdlandia won’t put me in any danger of an early prostate exam myself, unless LabRat has plans of which I have not yet been made aware, or a trip to ninja-school or a new pistol. Despite that excellent reason to give up, quit trying, and save resources for future challenges, we’re going to give up, quit trying, and save resources for future challenges push on because while the chance to get a free roscoe or a class on how to run it is awesome, that’s not the point. As AD put it:

in just three days, prostate cancer awareness is going to get lost in a flood of pink for breast cancer awareness, a disease that kills fewer women than prostate cancer does men, yet receives four times the research dollars.

Look, I get it. Breasts are awesome, they really are. Easily one of the top three inventions in history, behind only Scotch whiskey and the 1911, they’re even ahead of cigars for pete’s sake. So I’m totally on board with notions and slogans like “Don’t let cancer steal second base.” That said, I’d kinda like to actually be around to enjoy those boobs (and better, those attached to them), and if my prostate gets uppity and kills me because research on the back end of the deal was stagnating, I’m going to be mightily pissed. You, dear reader who has seen these exhortations before but haven’t opened wallet, can donate here to the Prostate Cancer Foundation or here to Livestrong.

And while AD may have the adorable KatyBeth to wield as a blunt force cute-trauma device, he doesn’t have these:

Someone told Wonderboy here that my hand was cancer. See how much he hates that shit?

They’re fluffy and I’m in a kilt. Do I really have to draw a diagram here?

Please, if you haven’t already, donate to Prostate Cancer Foundation or Livestrong.

Posted current events, Friends, lookey here, my furious genitals |