by Marcel Mutoni

I read the latest crazy story about Gilberto Gil a few minutes ago. I will link to it shortly. But before I do, just know that it made me laugh, cry, and reach for my “man area” all at once. You’ve been warned. Here you go:

“When I was new in the NBA the team veterans convinced me to shave, you know, down there, because they said the hair stinks. I used my girlfriend’s razor, which was rusty and gave me keloids. The doctor prescribed medicine to dab on, but I just poured it all over. Three days later I woke up screaming. The skin was burnt off my scrotum, down to my crack, everything — just raw flesh. I still had to run and play, so I used a numbing spray for a month until it healed. Now I use clippers.”

Know what, Gil? Maybe a boring newspaper quote from time to time isn’t such a bad idea. Thanks for the nightmare fuel, hombre.