I’m assuming not. But I do suspect it’s something you’d all like to see. It happens to be your lucky day.
Follow this Rube Goldberg contraption’s humble bowling ball origins as it moves from folding chairs, to flaming ladders, then to a boot rigged to a pipe, where it finally falls into the crotch of our rotund, adolescent, fully-suspecting subject.
Look, none of us here are noobs when it comes to watching testicle-smashing follies, so you know what to do—sit back, crack open a fresh Brawndo and laugh. [Break via Boing Boing]
Ian
August 5, 2009 at 7:33 AM
Alabama..living life in the fast lane with uncle dad.
Report PermalinkKif
August 5, 2009 at 8:18 AM
This really needs to be shown to any parent that’s ever said “Turn off that TV/games console/computer, stop texting/talking on your phone, and go play outside!”
What fun! At least until someone bans chairs. Garden tools and bowling balls require licensing. Fire is regulated. And permits are needed for the tying of laces on any footware not attached to the foot itself.
The sale of slingshots and BB guns would boom. They’re safer ;)
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