LIFE’S WONDERS PRAISED IN SUGGESTIVE, ODDBALL, AND NONSENSE WAYS
In an effort to offer a counterpoint to my usual cynical antics, I’ve committed myself to a weekly, year-long discussion of my life’s joys. But, never one for the more traditional approaches, I intend to keep things a little off side, a tad outlandish, and always one foot outside of polite company.
For a full list of all HOT DAMNs, click here.
THE MUCH MALIGNED TESTICLES
It goes without saying that I am a heaving furnace of manly prowess. Just look at the size of my guns, my shoulders, my gargantuan calves. Have you ever seen me do a squat? Have you? It is nothing short of a revelation of human achievement.
You’re welcome, by the way.
But I have my weak spot, my Achilles’ heel. It is the same for every man, I assure you. And it’s no secret. If you need to end a fight quickly (or if you’re just a sterile codswallop), you kick a man in his balls.
The testicles, you see, are the one part of our anatomy that defies toughening. Kick or twist or pinch them as often as you like, but the result will always be a bowel twisting rictus of agony. Despite our best efforts, our balls will never just “man up.” In fact, I’m pretty sure they cannot.
A flawed design, some say. Who had the terrible idea to put a man’s balls on the outside of his body? If women can have their bits on the inside, why can’t men? It’s a reasonable question.
Trouble is, without my hanging testicles, dangled within a thin net of fibrous tissue, there would simply be no stopping me. I’d be a god. My personal ceiling of potential masculine accomplishment would be non-existent. I would continue to expand in greatness until the universe literally exploded.
My balls keep me humble, they keep me in line.
And, as much as it pains me to say it, my balls make me a better man.