Last night I watched a DVD called Sick: The Life & Death of Bob Flanagan, Supermasochist. Guess what it was about!
This guy lived with cystic fibrosis for over 40 years -- most people with the disease die in their early childhood. In one scene he nails his dick to a wooden board, hammering a nail right through the head. I knew it was coming and instinctively thought of fast-forwarding, but I didn't. Rare is it anymore that what I see or read or hear arouses any true emotion in me. Bloody war movies or horror flicks don't disgust me, and actually neither did this. Mostly I was awestruck by something I've never seen nor will likely see again. And I learned that an impaled penis bleeds like a hooker on the rag. Wild, wild stuff.
Then I watched Ice Age: The Meltdown. Manny the mammoth forced one of his tusks up the sloth's pucker and the sabre-toothed tiger raped then devoured one of the possums. Odd choices I thought.