Testicular Action. Ahem.

No one seems interested in Testicle Man. Photo credit Annie Mole.

This is a post about testicles, as you may have surmised from the title.  The term “testicular action” arose during a family vacation to Yellowstone National Park about ten years ago.  Mr. Stuck coined the phrase when the boys noticed the stark difference between the momma bison and daddy bison.  It has been in use in this household as a palatable euphemism ever since, especially in mixed company.  Rest assured, I will handle the subject with care.

I raised two sons…past tense because I’m sure they absorbed just about all they possibly can of my motherly wisdom, and what hasn’t killed them made them stronger, or something.  I tell you this because it has changed what I know about testicles, ten fold.  I am outnumbered by them, and they influenced everything around me.  In partial and humorous acknowledgment of that fact, some years back I bought Mr. Stuck a set of Bulls Balls (R), a molded plastic reproduction of your choice of either a human or bull scrotum that is meant to be mounted at the rear of your vehicle.  (Great Christmas gift idea, by the way.)

- dodge truck balls -
You get the idea. Photo credit www.bullsballs.com.

I thought they were funny as hell (still do), and they prompted quite a number of comments and finger-pointing over the years.  Eventually they either fell off or were stolen, so I may have to replace them with the 2nd generation style.  My sense of humor.  Anyway.

You may already know that I have two Chihuahuas in the house: Bo, the Epileptic Chihuahua, and Camo.  Camo we got as a puppy a few months before we got Bo.  Camo is a handsome devil and he knows it; he is also a tyrant and a hormonal teenager.  He terrorizes Bo constantly.  Bo was fixed long before he came to live with us, and he’s always on drugs, so he pays Camo no mind unless he’s near his food.  Lately, Camo has been ‘overly attentive’ to Bo, leading us to again discuss (with vehemence) having him neutered.  (Unlike our other pets, Camo was never fixed, because friends had expressed interest in him siring pups with their dogs.)

Which brings me to this: Neuticles, Testicular Implantation for Pets. Yes, you read that right.  I thought Mr. Stuck was pulling my leg when he mentioned it.  I had to look it up for myself.  Sure enough, over half a million pets have been ‘Neuticled’ since 1995.  Heck, they even have the below photo of the abundantly breast-tacular Kim Kardashian and her beloved Rocky as testimonial to how wonderful they are.

rocky-kardashian-dog
Rocky Kardashian, proud owner of a pair of Neuticles.
Photo credit epicplasticsurgery.com.

You can get a whole range of sizes, from jelly bean on up to real bull.  No, I am not going to get Camo implants.  To me, that’s money better spent elsewhere, and ridiculous, besides.  But apparently it is perfectly reasonable for 500,000 other folks out there who may never have had their pet’s procedure done without implants.

To be fair, the company sells ear-stiffening implants and eye implants for pets, as well.  I never realized there was a market for any of these things.

Shows what I know.

 

 

A Remembrance or Two.

photo credit: The National Guard

 

I remember April 19, 1995.  I remember where I was when I heard that the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, had been bombed, resulting in the deaths of 168 innocent people and injuries to nearly 700 more.  I was stunned.  Finding out that it was a domestic terrorist act was even more of a shock.

I remember so many thoughts and emotions during those initial days; one morning about a week later, words came and I wrote them down.  I never gave it a title, just the date:

4/28/95.

From the soil of hate and vengeance
sprang an evil unforgiving,
Which sowed acts of pure maleficence
And death among the living.

It was in the hearts of cowards
that this wicked plan was hatched;
The result of their conspiracy
was tragedy, unmatched.

Broken lives and broken bodies,
broken spirits there abound
And for those who lost their loved ones,
broken hearts are all they’ve found.

In the midst of this disaster
stand the hearts and hands that mend:
Easing pain, allaying suffering,
bringing comfort and a friend.

It is through the tears of empathy
that we see beyond despair
And stand resolute and strengthened
by the faith that bonds us there.

If we think there’s more to living
than this brief time here on Earth –
If we look on death as not as much an end
as a rebirth,

Then the hope that’s deep within us
gives us peace and springs anew –
And we’re blessed with understanding
what it is we’re here to do.

Fast forward six years, to the horror of four coordinated attacks on September 11, 2001, claiming 2,977 victims and injuring several thousands more  Everyone knows what happened that day and how our country changed as a result of it. 

photo credit: PeterJBellis

Again, I was stirred by words that came to mind, and I revisited the 1995 piece. 

9-11-2001

From the soil of hate and vengeance spawned an evil unforgiving
Deep within the hearts of cowards it was hatched,
Manifest in purest malice, sowing death among the living –
A conspiracy of tragedy unmatched.

Broken hearts and broken bodies, broken spirits, broken lives
Heroes fallen, image burned into our minds –
Though grief and sorrow haunt us, human dignity survives,
What was rubble now becomes the act that binds.

In the middle of disaster, dust and ashes, twisted steel
We have empathy to see beyond despair,
Forgetting for a moment how detached we used to feel —
Standing strengthened by the faith that joins us there.

If we know there’s more to living than this brief time here on Earth
Then within us hope and peace will spring anew
If we look on death as not as much an end as a rebirth –
Then we’ll understand what we are here to do.

I remember trying to explain to my young sons about what happened; of course, there was no way to explain ‘why.’  I’m sure most, if not all, parents found it difficult.  You want to comfort your children and make them know they’re safe.  You want to keep the bogeyman and nightmares away — but sometimes, you can’t.

Number Young Son, six at the time, was frightened when he’d hear an airplane near our home.  There is a small private airstrip nearby, and we see and hear small planes on a regular basis.  It took a long time to convince him that planes weren’t going to crash into our house.  I remember Number One Son being very angry about it and wanting to hurt the bad men who hurt the people in those airplanes and buildings.

Time has eased the memory, as it is wont to do, but the utter shock of that day still rings in my ears.  Personally, it brings back memories I don’t want to entertain.  I pray we never experience that kind of a day again.

photo credits: The National Guard and PeterJBellis