In this no sport hellscape, folks are finding new ways to torture themselves. This is a level I am not man enough to endure.
Imagine nurturing the demise of your colon like it’s a Tamagotchi. You water it. You give it proper sunlight. You give it a little Miracle Grow every other Sunday. You sing a little Bing Crosby to it because no one is judging you anymore and you heard it helps grow a healthier plant.
All the while it sits in silence. Waiting. Biding it’s time until it matures enough to serve its purpose. Its purpose is to kill. It was designed in a lab to torture.
This is some level six masochistic behavior. This is the long game. I will be along for the ride, from a safe distance, preferably upwind.