Normally, I ain’t the type of guy to talk about another man’s balls, but it’s becoming a major got-damn trend to ruminate over the nut-ability of Barak Obama.

First you got Hillary Clinton supporters speculating on them, saying that the bitch’s got more “testicular fortitude” than any of her got-damn “Gucci wearing, latte-drinking opponents,” like people who wear Guccis and suck down lattes ain’t got no sack. For weeks, everyone in the press felt it was appropriate to pour over my man Obam’s manhood like they were Linda Lovelace or some shit--and let me just say this right now: I don’t never want to hear Chris Matthews say the word “nads” ever again, unless he’s talking about some got-damn hair-removing product.

Now, you got Jesse Jackson threatening to castrate the motherfucker while being interviewed by Fox News. Jesse shoulda had his own damn self fixed some time ago, back when he was banging his assistants and fathering children out of wed-lock.

Let me tell you something: I’ve seen Obama's balls, and motherfucker has some great big black low-hangers. Ain’t no need to talk too much about them. They’re there, twice as big as you’d expect, and hairy as a got-damn hobbit. If Jesse wants to cut those motherfuckers off, he better bring himself a hack-saw and some pliers cause it’s gonna take some serious got-damn sawing to get those motherfuckers off.

Having read what I just wrote, I feel an obligation to explain to you motherfuckers how it was I came to get an eye-ful of the huge brown orbs between Obama’s legs.

I was stumping for him (“stumping” in the campaign sense), and we both had to go to the little Sam Jack room to take a piss. I was at one urinal, doing my water, and Obama kept a polite two-urinal buffer between us. Motherfucker had to stand back a full foot from the urinal, and he dropped his drawers down to his knees to get all his business out, and there those balls were, swinging away like Casey at the bat.

“Damn, man,” I said. Couldn’t help but be surprised--he looks so small and puny you’d never expect that shit. “You got elephantitis or something?”

He just grinned, pissed out his double-shot soy latte, and told me, “Sam, man, sometimes you got to know when to hold’em. And sometimes you just got to let the motherfuckers out for air.”

Now can we please get off this subject before Larry King devotes a full got-damn hour to testicles? Shit.