After two beautiful days, we are back to snow. It's just the little, dandruff flakes now, but the people who watch such things say more is on the way. Already it's pretty chilly out there, and the wind is gusting a bit.

Which brings me to my topic for today; the testes.

I wear a kilt everyday. Regardless of the temperature, I never resort to pants. I have even purchased some insulated gaiters so that I can tromp through knee-high snow, unencumbered and swinging free. Wearing a kilt on a windy, 6 degree day is a feeling with which most men are unfamiliar. Pity. The cold is a shock, and there is naturally a bit of shrinkage, but overall, the boys seem to like it. There is a sense that you are returning to nature, and a link with men of antiquity. The classic examples, William Wallace and Rob Roy MacGregor, wore no pants as they fought English tyranny. Moses wore no pants when he faced Pharoah with the whole, sticks to snakes and "Let my people go" schtick. Given these examples, how can I complain about a little cold?

Unfortunately, the majority of American men fear the unencumbered scrotum, behaving like old hens sitting on their clutch. Most testes are somnolent sheep, gently swinging to and fro in the artificial summer of restrictive undergarments, lazing about in a sweaty, sparsely-furred hammock. The real goat is the penis. He leads; they follow. He has a good time, getting all the attention (unless one has a particularly thorough lover), while they just get smacked into the buttocks over and over... I don't know why they don't speak up.

At any rate, my testes spoke up some time ago, and successfully fought for their freedom. They get to see the world now, or at least the parts of it that I step over. Sometimes, when the wind or curious females conspire, they get a glimpse of much more. Whenever the hem is lifted, I imagine them like furry, wrinkled bats, blinking in the sudden sunlight.

There will likely be snow on the ground this weekend. I think I will plan an outdoor activity. Maybe take some friends out to the kite field to fly the big parafoil. The worst that could happen is I get dragged by it in a big gust - and what's a little slush on your nuts compared to Freedom?


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