Michelle Obama + Mike Tyson =
"So if I asked you about art you’d probably give me the skinny on every art book ever written. Michelangelo? You know a lot about him. Life’s work, political aspirations, him and the pope, sexual orientation, the whole works, right? But I bet you can’t tell me what it smells like in the Sistine Chapel. You’ve never actually stood there and looked up at that beautiful ceiling. Seen that.
If I asked you about women you’d probably give me a syllabus of your personal favorites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can’t tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy.
You’re a tough kid. I ask you about war, and you’d probably, uh, throw Shakespeare at me, right? “Once more into the breach, dear friends.” But you’ve never been near one. You’ve never held your best friend’s head in your lap and watched him gasp his last breath, looking to you for help.
And if I asked you about love you probably quote me a sonnet. But you’ve never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone could level you with her eyes. Feeling like! God put an angel on earth just for you…who could rescue you from the depths of hell. And you wouldn’t know what it’s like to be her angel and to have that love for her to be there forever. Through anything. Through cancer. You wouldn’t know about sleeping sitting’ up in a hospital room for two months holding her hand because the doctors could see in your eyes that the term visiting hours don’t apply to you.
You don’t know about real loss, because that only occurs when you love something more than you love yourself. I doubt you’ve ever dared to love anybody that much.
I look at you; I don’t see an intelligent, confident man; I see a cocky, scared shitless kid.
But you’re a genius, Will. No one denies that. No one could possibly understand the depths of you. But you presume to know everything about me because you saw a painting of mine and you ripped my fuckin’ life apart.
You’re an orphan right? Do you think I’d know the first thing about how hard ! your life has been, how you feel, who you are because I read Oliver Twist? Does that encapsulate you? Personally, I don’t give a shit about all that, because you know what? I can’t learn anything from you I can’t read in some fuckin’ book.
Unless you wanna talk about you, who you are. And I’m fascinated. I’m in. But you don’t wanna do that, do you, sport? You’re terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief."
- Good Will Hunting
So I began freaking out because the pain was just unbearable. I thought I had to go to the emergency room because I just couldn’t figure out a way to take it out that wouldn’t hurt. So I did the next best thing: went on Google for answers. The best thing I found was putting baby oil to make the release easier but that didn’t help. I don’t think any of the links had to do with foreskin stuck in the slider. I couldn’t zip down because the skin was there and the zipper was zipped at the bottom and zipping up was just making it worse. So I had to do the most embarrassing thing, but I didn’t care at the moment, I went to tell my father. I took the picture before going to tell him. I thought it would be less embarrassing to show him the picture, even though the real thing would be in front of him. I buttoned my pants and went to their room. I showed him and he asked the same question all of you asked. He told me to show him so I did. He tried doing the same thing I had tried, zipping up and down. I yelled, my face was red, I felt hot and my heart was beating quickly. The pain was intense. My dad gets frustrated very easily and after trying with no avail and me squirming with pain he said he couldn’t do anything with me moving around and that I might just had to go the emergency room, which was the one thing I didn’t want to hear. After a while he had a bright idea. He left the room and came back with a razor blade. My first reaction was to yell, “What are you going to do with that?” He told me to hold the zipper and he cut around the area were the slider was. So now the section that was attached to the slider and my foreskin was free from my jeans. He then pulled the slider down and it came off the zipper. I then pulled my foreskin out of the slider and that was it, it was free. I had minor cuts but it did bruise and teeth markings (from the zipper) were visible. I hope that made sense of how he did it.
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