Why I Don't Support Breast Cancer Research

I don't know about you, but I'm getting pretty darn sick and tired of all of this breast cancer awareness bullcrap.  Is there anyone out there who's not aware of breast cancer?  I find it hard to believe that some schmuck in Ashtabula is being handed a pink ribbon at this very moment and exclaiming, "Why, I never knew that women could get cancer in their boobies!"  But what really flips my jib is all of these 5Ks and marathons and mini-marathons and half-marathons, all with tongue-in-cheek names like the Ta-Ta Trot or the Jog for Jugs.  What's next?  The Million Melon March?

My friends, if you believe that power-walking around the track of a middle-school stadium in your yoga pants is going to save lives, then you're about as bright as a mineshaft at midnight.  Think about it.  In any given town in any given year, there are a few dozen of these feelgood fun runs designed to raise money in order to find a cure for breast cancer.  For $25 a pop, you'll be permitted to strut around in a pink "Save the Bazongas" t-shirt while wearing a smirk of self-satisfaction, along with 50 of your friends, neighbors, co-workers, and other misguided do-gooders. 

Now do the math.  There are 25,375 towns, villages, and cities in America (at least according to the U.S. census).  I'm sure in most of these places, there are two or three titty trots or jug jogs being held each year.  At twenty-five bucks a head, and assuming that there are fifty participants, this will result in nearly 96 million dollars raised for "research" each year.  And that's just in the small towns!  In 2010, a 5K held in Fort Wayne, Indiana, had over 4,000 idiots...er, I mean participants.  If we assume that 50 cities in America had an equal level of participation (and that's being generous, since Ft. Wayne is only the 72nd largest city in America), that $96 million balloons to well over $100 million. 

And let's not overlook the private donations, the contributions made by companies and businesses, and all of the corporations who donate a percentage of their product sales whenever some bleeding-heart do-gooder with the IQ of a lobotomized fruitfly purchases something that comes with a pink label or wrapper.  Consider that this ridiculous nonsense has been going on for the past two decades, and you'll see that breast cancer "research" has conned the mentally-handicapped (you) out of billions, if not trillions, of dollars.  Is it any wonder why our economy is in the crapper?

Now I don't know about you, but where I come from, whenever an idiot convinces a handful of his or her friends to invest money (who in turn will ask their friends to do the same) into some hare-brained project, we call it a Ponzi scheme.  Yes, folks, these jug jogs or melon marathons or whatever you want to call them are nothing more than a pyramid scheme; a scam intended to separate fools from their money.  They have to be, otherwise breast cancer would have been cured by now, with enough money left over to cure all kinds of rare illnesses along the way, like that creepy Benjamin Button disease or that disorder which causes fat teenage goth girls to cut themselves.  Hell, we'd probably still have enough money left over to send a baboon to Mars in a space capsule.

Worst of all, if you are one of these melon-marching hooter-hoofers, you are a murderer who deserves to be strapped to an electric chair.  Allow me to explain.

By turning breast cancer into a cause célèbre, you are helping to steal awareness away from other less-glamorous forms of cancer.  As a result, untold thousands of innocent people will die, all because of you.  Have you ever run a 5K for choroidal metastasis or "eye cancer"?  Have you ever jogged for nasopharyngeal cancer?  Appendicial carcinoma?  Rectal cancer?  Of course you haven't, you heartless sonuvab*tch.

So before you begin to feel all smug, as if you had actually saved a life, think of all the countless lives which have been lost because of lame-brained people like you.  You want to get a pat on the back for doing a good deed?  Then go out an organize a Run For the Rectum, a Parade for the Prostate, or a Trot for Testicles, and then we'll talk. 

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