By now, most people know that when G. Gordon Liddy was young, he cured himself of a childhood fear of rats by taking a rat that his cat had killed, roasting it over a pile of burning twigs and eating it.  This was all related in his autobiography, Will. However, most people don't know that the original text reads: "...with a scout knife, I skinned, then cut off and ate the roasted haunches and balls of the (rat's) carcass.  The meat of the haunches was tasteless and stringy.  But those BALLS! As I crushed those succulent genitals between my teeth, I felt a surge of power course through my body that I'd never felt before.  The combination of my own saliva mingling with rat testosterone created such a surge of divine strength that in those moments, I felt I was a god!!!!!!"  Liddy's editor later advised him to rewrite this section for the final draft because he felt it was "just too cat-damn weird."
 

This rare photograph was taken the night before Mr. Liddy burst his appendix during a sit-up contest--an injury that prevent him from taking part in combat during the Korean War. Despondent at first, G. Gordon Liddy soon discovered that a military hospital at night is practically the Old Country Buffet of ball eating. Disciplinary records from that time were destroyed by the CIA, but it's been learned thatduring the period of time that Liddy was recovering in that particular hospital, physicians were performing emergency implantations of prosthetic testicles in patients at triple their normal rate .

Following his military service, Liddy became a lawyer and began to work for the FBI, where he developed the ability to burn his hand over a candle without flinching. However, he wasn't able to utilize his carefully honed Ball Snatching skills until he was given the opportunity to join CREEP ( the Committee to Ravenously Excise and Eat the President's balls).  Poor Richard Nixon thought that Liddy's activities were aimed at getting him re-elected, when in actuality, the plan was for the Cubans (who were ostensibly hired for intelligence activities) to storm the Oval Office on inauguration day and subdue the President and Vice President in order to allow G. Gordon Liddy to devour what was undoubtedly the most  powerful set of testicles in the free world (it was also decided that Spiro Agnew's balls would be divided between John Mitchell and Alexander Haig). Nixon may have lost his job, his integrity, and the principals of pacifism and temperance that his religion dictated, but at least he still had his nuts.
 

Excerpt from the Playboy Interview:

LIDDY: Oh, it was just a fleeting thought, now one of those sweet memories that one loves to treasure. My first thought when I saw Dean sitting behind the desk was that here was the ideal opportunity to kill the bastard. I saw a pencil on the desk and all it would take was a quick thrust through the underside of his jaw, up through the soft palate and deep inside the brain. But then I realized that I was feeling kind of hungry, and Dean, though traitor to his country, had a set of balls on him that would feed a starving family for days.  So instead, I grabbed the pencil with the full intent of plunging it into the soft flesh of his scrotum and twisting it until his scrumptious gonads were pierced like chunks of lamb on a shish kabob skewer.

PLAYBOY: But that wasn't what ended up happening, was it?

LIDDY: Well, I expected Dean to scurry out of the room like a frightened little mouse.  Instead he roared up, ripped the pencil out of my hand and went for MY balls the way a Charles Dickens orphan goes after gruel.  His testicular appetite was a horrible, fearsome thing.  I've never experienced such an intense fear in my life as when I saw John Dean stalking my manhood with spittle dripping from his fangs. I ducked and hid under the desk, holding my yarbles for dear life while Dean pummeled the desk with his fists, splintering the wood.  It took five federal marshals to subdue Dean and drag him away, and when they did, I was so relieved that I collapsed into the waiting arms of Henry Kissinger and sobbed like a day-old infant.

Despite such public slip-ups like the Playboy interview, public knowledge of Liddy's addiction to eating balls was not widespread. Thus, for a long time, the American people simply knew G. Gordon Liddy as a simple, quiet man who enjoyed such wholesome pursuits as planning political assassinations, holding his hand over lit candles until the flesh bubbled, and marching naked down federal prison catwalks singing "Horst Wessel." He found success as an extremist right wing radio host, and nobody ever questioned it when he'd announce from time to time, "We're going to pause for a station break and a light snack," only to come back on the air with the quiet but unmistakable sound of males weeping in the background. He even got his own calendar going, "Stacked and Packed," which features dangerous firearms photographed with the world's most beautiful "women" (see the above photo of one of the many male models who fell victim to Liddy's double edged need for calendar models and scrotally enhanced meals).  However, Liddy's testicular vice was finally made public when Larry King exposed his horrendous secret on a recent episode of "Larry King Live."