On Competition, Cancer & Charity

Balls has a vicious competitive streak that has proven to be indispensable over the years in both business and personal matters. Whether it’s disgracing an adversary in my over-75 squash league or greasing the palms of the right prefect in one of the many corrupt jurisdictions in which we do business, I always play the game to win.

I lost Mother Balls to breast cancer when I was twelve years old, but I certainly have no need nor desire for your pity or weepy sentiment. I consider cancer to be a worthy adversary, one that warrants both my deepest hatred and my utmost respect. Unfortunately, my personal crusade against cancer necessitates my association with a host of detestable characters – insufferable panhandlers who love to tug at the heartstrings and yank at the purse strings, and pompous poseurs who love to give as long as the cameras are rolling.

I recently attended a fundraiser where the keynote speaker droned on incessantly about his heroic role in the battle against cancer. He is a loathsome Hollywood type who marches against the evils of capitalism one day, and then tries to extort his employer for more money the next. Leftys typically embrace the benefits of capitalism while railing against the less palatable byproducts, like a child who loves the view from a rooftop but snivels about the ascent of a few steps. These naive flower children fail to understand that all of the pennies and well wishes of the hackysack crowd are dwarfed by the single stroke of a true capitalist’s pen. The same imbeciles who squealed about the firm handling of a labor dispute at Carnegie Steel later stood in line to benefit from a share of Mr. Carnegie’s profits.


Here I must briefly digress. I have come to depend heavily on the sharp intellect and exceptional business acumen of my grandson. Bleu, unfortunately named so because my soft-headed son took up with a French woman (who to this day seems intent on redistributing the Balls fortune), has proven to be a genuine exception to his generation of slackers and ne’er-do-wells. Bleu correctly pointed out that the coordinator of the event that evening cursed Balls International Industries with one breath and groveled for a donation with the next.

And now we come full circle in our story, back to my vicious competitive streak. When all of the pretty words had been spoken that evening, when all of the flesh had been pressed and the pretentious drinks had been consumed, the bottom line was crystal clear: mammon. And when the donations from all the blowhards and poseurs had been summed, the number was less than one percent of the check that I wrote that evening. Ah, the glories of capitalism! -Balls

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Animated Balls: Election 2012

Episode 1: It's Hard to Choose Just One

Episode 2: Occupy Wall Street

Episode 3: 999! The Cain Train to Prosperity

Episode 4: Small Government

Episode 5: Newt is Forgiven

Episode 6: A Candidate with Big Balls

Episode 7: Why We Must Elect Rick!

Episode 8: Don't Make Me Use the "S" Word!

Episode 9: Santorum & Obamaville

Episode 10: Settle for Mitt!

Episode 12: Austerity and Obama's Debt!

Episode 13: From My Cold, Dead Hands!

Episode 14: Ryan is a Bold Choice for VP!

Episode 15: Mitt Romney's Taxes

Episode 16: Mitt & Me; 2 Peas in a Pod!

Episode 17: Mitt and the 47%

Episode 18: The PA Voter ID Law

Episode 19: The Boss is Running!

Episode 20: Benghazi Has Legs

Episode 21: Grover, the NRA, and the GOP

Animated Balls: A New Frontier!

Piers Morgan & the White House Conspire Against Alex Jones!

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