Brief Thoughts

In my middle age I find myself paying an undue amount of attention to my groin. It's not that it didn't command my admiration and respect in my younger days.  Back then, it was more of a use or lose it kind of thing, the nether id screaming out for activity, to burst free from the suppressive superego that‘s my Hebraic legacy.  (This is a polite way of saying I wanted to be a man whore, as all honest men will confess to be their dream job, at least until they discover the joy of a committed relationship, the wasteland of divorce, or the burning sensation of...well, you get the picture.)  But now it's a more subtle, varied relationship, made full by the maturity of years and the fact that you buy “Dad Pants” on purpose because you treasure the space. 

The latest groin-centered experience (outside of a committed relationship, of course) occurred when I heard a radio commercial for Tommy John underwear.  If that name seems familiar, it’s probably because you’ve seen it in the sports pages. Tommy John was a pitcher for the Dodgers who suffered an elbow injury and was treated with a new kind of surgery that now bears his name.  Alas, the Tommy John of baseball is not the same Tommy John of underwear, which deprives the brand of a useful symmetry of things you can do with your hand and arm:  Pitch and…well…pitch.

Underwear had never really been much of a force in my life.  As a kid, you wore underwear with fun designs until you switched to boxers as things expanded and (hopefully) needed more room.   And that’s pretty much where it stays.  It’s not like women’s lingerie, where the moderately attractive can become alluringly hot through the art of selective concealment.  With guys, there’s no way to conceal anything (and no, a Speedo is nothing more than an abomination of nature), which is if a guy wants to look hot he has to dress up so that everything, even the back hair, becomes nothing but a dream.

Anyway, according to the ad, Tommy John underwear has a variety of notable features.  The one that piqued my attention was the quick-draw horizontal fly.  Personally, I’m not quite sure how horizontal equals quick draw.  The...ummm...generative organs are aligned on the vertical (the midline sagittal plane, if you must know), so it would make sense to align your access on the same plane. You need access, it’s right there waiting for you.  The few times I've worn things with a horizontal fly, access usually becomes something of a fishing expedition because the point of grasp is usually beneath the opening slit.  If this occurs in a public place, it undoubtedly looks to others as if you’re simply having way too much fun in the excretory endeavor.

But I'm also confused by the necessity of the quick-draw fly.  It would seem to me if you need it that quick, the moment has already passed.   To me, the concept of quick draw implies whipping it out for a quick shot, like your own personal Wild West single-barrel rifle (or pistol, or derringer, or cap gun, as the case may be).  But if you need to get it out that quickly before the mood goes away, that doesn't say a lot for the mood to start with; and if you need to get it out that quickly after hearing the word "draw" before the shots are fired,  that’s a Little Blue Pill issue that no underwear can solve.

Now back to your regularly scheduled blog.