Saturday, November 14, 2009

A Man Without Fear.

Like most of you, I laugh at the teens in our library who (almost) wear saggy, baggy pants. Their pants are so low off their hips and below their asses that it seems like gravity gave up doing its job: Do you really want those pants to fall all the way down and see what's going on under there? Didn't think so. (That was gravity's response.)

As librarians, we are keen observers of social trends. And there is no modern trend more perplexing than youths who wear saggy baggy pants, pants down below their asses, so low that one needs one hand permanently affixed to his crotch just to keep them up. And if after I wait on him at the desk, he tries to thank me for my help by releasing his grasp and extending his crotch hand to shake mine, I will pretend I'm busy attempting to dislodge a tick from my ear. Sorry, typo, rear.

But since I've been observing them, I've learned from their exposed-fanny wisdom.

Aside from the prison message saggy pants is supposed to represent, I could see no useful purpose for the style. I've since learned to understand The Tactical Advantage of Droopy Drawers.

I grew up during the Decade of Extremely Tight Pants. I remember being asked once at school about who poured me into my pants that morning. Another day, a car full of girls slowed down to reach out and spank my ass when I was walking down the street minding my own business.

It was common back then for guys to punch each other in the nads. I guess it was funny to gaze upon the grimacing face of the punchee. And laugh. And tight pants produced a spectacular level of testicular vulnerability which other dudes found irresistible.

I was punched in the groin so many times as a kid, I fear I have not been able to produce a single viable sperm since middle school. Take that, paternity test. I don't know if women get this because a woman is far less likely to sock another woman in the boob than anyone, man, woman, child, or dog, is likely to whack a guy in the balls.

I so fear being punched in my family jewels that before I go out to greet the latest hostile patron who's demanding to see a supervisor, I shove a hefty paperback down the front of my pants in anticipation of a possible nutsack salute.

So I've been thinking about the saggy pants. And now I realize that all that space between your juevos and the crotch of the pants creates a very good buffer region for absorbing the force of a knee to the groin. It's like the pants block any attempt at scoring an accurate hit. The same with a ball grab, or monkey-steals-the-peach attack (do an image search); the pants offer superior defensive protection.

Now I think I will forego the paperback codpiece in favor of just pulling my pants down about six inches lower (did I say six inches? I meant eight, um, would you believe ten?). And that should keep me safe.

Sure, then everyone will able to see my underwear (and even my sexy tramp stamp), but seriously, who doesn't love Hello Kitty?