Fuck Women’s Sports: Part Fucking Two

When a child grabs a hot plate or runs face first into a door, it’s your responsibility as an adult to tell them not to do such things. That’s why I’ve been telling women not to play sports for as long as I can remember. Not because watching women play sports is embarrassing and gross. And not because meeting female athletes is like going to the zoo that one time when the ostrich pen and the monkey pen were left open and all of them were running around getting drunk on Hooch.

Telling women not to play sports is my responsibility as an adult.

Women injure their ACLs (anterior cruciate ligaments) up to ten times more than men do in collegiate sports, which include basketball, soccer, and female cheerleading.

Injuring your knees in female cheerleading I can understand. Those girls use their knees all the time if you know what I’m talking about. Blowjobs. But soccer and softball? How can you tear your leg ligaments getting keg-sloshed and running around some bases? Softball isn’t even a contact sport until the umpire starts fucking with you. And there aren’t any ACLs is your fists or face.

If you’re unfamiliar with the ACL, the ACL is to your leg what your dick is to you. In other words, your leg is no good without it. The ACL is to your leg what a marriage is without a prenup: shaky at best and doomed to failure.

We all know women are under the delusion that no one anywhere can tell them what to do. If a woman wants to wear a skirt and walk through the bad part of town, then she will. If she wants to pass out drunk on a bus stop bench and act like it’s unlucky that only her purse was stolen, well then fuck she’ll do that too.

Womananity’s creedo is, “No one is going to tell me I can’t do something. No matter how stupid it is.”

Well ladies, someone I know disagrees with you, and his name is God.

Women’s ACLs and all the rest of their body parts are made with the same level of shit craftsmanship that we see from their brains everyday. No one ever found a 200 dollar bottle of Scotch in the refrigerator box of a hobo and no one expects any other woman’s body part to exceed the performance of her backwards-wired brain.

Men’s anatomies are built for power and grace and for getting wrung through the wringer so many times that the goddamn thing breaks. Women’s bodies are just left-overs and built for inaction.

How do you make two pounds of fat look good? Put a nipple on it.

I think I’ve proven my point.

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