I got thinking about balls today. Specifically, those belonging to Brett Favre.
Don't get me wrong - I don't usually spend a lot of time thinking about or picturing the scroticular region of men, not to mention future Hall of Fame quarterbacks. But this is different - I have no choice to think about them, because, simply put, people won't shut up about them.
In case you haven't heard, the Minnesota Vikings quarterback supposedly sent pictures of himself playing with his own personal Twin Cities to a woman associated with his former team, the New York Jets. Frankly, even more disturbing then the image of a fully engorged Favre is the fact that he was only wearing a pair of Crocs at the time. Seriously? Crocs? All of the money in the world eventually passes through your hands and you're wearing plastic shoes? The players union may want to get involved in this.
Here's where things get...um...sticky (Oh, shut up.). Supposedly the woman on the other end of this didn't want or even ask to see his Viking. Now, I've met plenty of beautiful women in my time, and while I may have wanted to send an unrequested 8x10 glossy of the Wonderstick, I do have that little voice inside my head that says, "Hey, Schmuck. Horrible idea. Why don't you go get a burrito instead?". I would, and everything turned out for the best. Brett, however, apparently doesn't have that voice, or maybe he simply doesn't like burritos. Either way, he decided to go all Ansel Adams, pushed send, and now that's all ESPN will talk about.
Here's what I keep focusing on: 1) Favre is only a few months younger than me; and 2) Favre is a grampa. Brett and Deanna Favre's oldest daughter gave birth to a son earlier this year. A grampa.
Think about your grampa. Now, think about your grampa's balls.
Go ahead. I'll wait.
Look, I'll give you that Favre is in pretty incredible shape for a 41-year-old man. Of that, I'm sure there is no doubt. Still, no matter how great of shape you may be in, it's still a picture of a grampa's balls. I mean, pictures of balls in general are nothing to write home about. Let's face it, male genitalia is pretty goofy-looking as a rule. I've seen a lot of naked females in my time, and there are few things as beautiful as the naked female form. They're like fingerprints - all completely unique. Penises, on the other hand....well. Never have the following words left my lips: "Wow. That is one fine looking cock you got there, Chester". I mean, I hate to get all profile-y, but you see one, you've pretty much seen them all. I think it was Calvin Coolidge who said, "Feh, a penis is a penis is a penis".
My grampa was a great guy, and we did a lot of stuff together. We painted, went fishing, watched great movies (watching "Blazing Saddles" with him remains one of my all-time best memories), all sorts of grampa/grandson activities. However, not once did I see his balls. Never did he whip out the babymakers and say, "Take a look at these wrinkled sonsabitches. That's something else, huh?". I did see my granny's boobs once by mistake, and let me tell you, there is no amount of bleach available to get that image out of my mind.
Now, I'm not saying that you can't or shouldn't be a sexual being as you grow older. In fact, I'm hoping it's the exact opposite (If there is any positive to be taken from this whole thing is that us over-40 types still like naked fun time, even if no one else is there). Still, you can be sexual and not be a complete tool. For some reason, it still has not sunk into anyone's head: regardless if you are a teenager or someone a few months away from joining AARP, when you send naked pictures of yourself across the interwebs, they are going out EVERYWHERE. I'm not knocking the practice - if that's what gets you going, more power to you. But you can't then be surprised, shocked or embarassed when your crank gets the front page of the Star-Tribune.
Favre and the Vikings will be visiting his old stomping ground, Green Bay, this weekend. Hopefully, he'll spend more time Sunday throwing balls than photographing them.