Forget Masculine Toilets and Wonderbras. Get Your Balls-Up!

In a recent monologue, Stephen Colbert took aim at interim Attorney General Matt Whitaker’s business dealings. The target of his humor was the masculine toilet, a product of World Patent Marketing, on whose advisory board Whitaker sits. (No word on whether he also sits on their product.) The bowl of this loo is extra deep, so that a well-endowed man doesn’t have to worry about dipping his junk into the water.

Colbert took an added swipe at Whitaker, claiming he also has a product called Snowballs. This underwear was purportedly designed to keep the family jewels cool, thereby improving potency. All of this reminded me of an article I wrote in 1994. It was the height of the Wonderbra™ craze, long before #metoo and #timesup. Undergarments were marketed very differently for women than they were for men (plus ça change…)

It’s time to take a look back at my masterpiece. It was never published. Once you read it, you’ll understand why. Warning: whether you’re a woman or a man, pee before reading. Sit, stand or straddle; I don’t care. On that note…

I’m weary of this media fuss over the Wonderbra et al. I can’t keep up with it. It’s not that I disapprove of women who want to appear sexy. It’s just that I’ve reached that stage in my life when I don’t want parts of my anatomy thrust under the nose of anyone who wouldn’t recognize them in the dark, bereft of their accouterments.

I don’t think the media would be so obsessed over structural enhancements to parts of men’s anatomy. Sisters (I said to myself), it’s time to fight fire with fire. Which naturally brought to mind Jerry Lee Lewis and his “Great Balls of…” Which in turn inspired my new product—an engineering marvel to rival the most wondrous of bras. I challenge the media to give this product the same attention it has afforded the Wonderbra and all its clones.

Introducing Balls-Up, for great balls! (Play it again, Jerry Lee.) This uplifting piece of gear is made of 100% natural fibers and is guaranteed hypoallergenic. It consists of 69 separate pieces, all carefully French-seamed for durability. Balls-Up comes in four sizes—M, L, XL and Oh, Really? (Size S was dropped after test-market research showed no one would buy it.)

This is not just another athletic supporter, although that same test-market research did show that jocks are just itching to get their Balls-Up. By a 2-to-1 margin, they favor the Lap Cat model, which is extra-durable to protect from claws, spikes, fingernails and other penetrating objects.

We at Balls-Up are more sensitive to the variety of men’s needs than the makers of Wonderbra are to women’s. Our motto: If you’ve got the balls, we’ll get them up right.

Are you part of that 6% of the population who have only one testicle? You’ll be glad to learn about our Uniball model, available in both “dress right” and “dress left” versions. This streamlined Balls-Up has an invisible counter-weight and an attractive racing stripe. The design is under consideration for a pending exhibit at the MOMA.

Worried about static electricity in winter with your Balls-Up against the metal parts of your zipper? No problem! We have seasonally available an anti-stat model, which uses no elastic at all and has a built-in fabric softener dispenser with variable time-release. (Think about that a minute...)

Are your testicles oversized relative to your penis? Check out our Glider model, with its unique Frank Lloyd Wright construction featuring cantilevered cups. It’s showcased in the December issue of Architectural Digest. The patented anti-chafing design comes in two materials—ultra-gel (coolant) for summer wear and lamb’s wool for winter.

No matter what your body type or lifestyle, there’s a Balls-Up that’s perfect for you. With our money-back guarantee, you can try the model of your choice RISK-FREE for ten days. If you don’t enjoy having your Balls-Up, just wrap it up and send it back to us. We’ll return your payment, no questions asked. No snide comments on Post-it notes. No presumptions about your sexual orientation. No inclusion of your name on any mailing list of those who have opted for droopy balls. Just your money back, plain and simple.

Brothers of America, be as bold as the sisters who are flaunting their endowment mercilessly and ubiquitously. Show that sexy Creative Director in the Wonder bra that you’re a real man. Get your Balls-Up! Challenge her to “Look me in the fly and tell me you love me.”

Ed Note: One of the original Wonderbra ads showed a man mesmerized by a babe’s boobs. It had the tag line: “Look me in the eye and tell me you love me.”

Copyright 1994 and 2018 Elaine M. Decker

Retirement Update - Potpourri of Thoughts

Full disclosure up front: this post has no central theme. It’s a potpourri of thoughts gathered at the end of my first month of retirement. Just to pique your interest, topics range from termites to adultery.

First a report on the last few weeks. I’m no longer going into my former office. I still occasionally help out from home, but no more than most volunteers do for the organizations they support. I seem to be getting up a bit earlier than I did the first few weeks off. I guess I’ve finally caught up on my sleep.

More importantly, I have far more energy now than I did those first weeks. I think it’s because I’ve been getting exercise and aerating my blood. (This reminds me that I need to aerate the lawn.) With my focus on clearing out the house, I’m up and down multiple flights of stairs all day. While I’m disappointed that I haven’t been out walking now that the weather is nice, I feel I’m meeting my health needs with my built-in Stairmaster.

Most trips, I’m carrying something, usually in the down direction, since the basement is where I’m organizing items to sell. The boxes of books are hernia-makers, and the days when I’ve carried a few of those, my right knee bothers me at night. Mercifully, that’s why God invented ibuprofen, so I’m able to power through the discomfort.

I can feel that my body is more fit, too. This is a good thing, since at my annual checkup just before I started packing in earnest, my weight was the highest it’s ever been. I expect a dramatic downturn at my next weigh in. (Stay tuned…)

Although I’m spending most of my time on the house, I still pay attention to the important developments in the world around me. Here are some news items I’d like to share, along with my spin on them as I continue to adjust to retirement.

At a bank in northern India, termites ate $225,000 worth of banknotes. This was blamed on lax staffers. Less widely reported is that they were sitting around telling sardarji jokes. I think it's more likely that the termite control wala was transferred to the customer service phones in the south.

I’ve not uncovered any damage of this nature in my archaeological digs throughout my house. The worst thing I’ve found is a carton of packing paper that one of my cats seems to have made into a nesting place. The box has been in the basement since 1992 (recycled from my move here from New Jersey,) so any one of five felines could have been the culprit.

I can tell you are shaking your head that I’d still have packing material from the move to Rhode Island almost twenty years ago. Actually, it’s come in handy in my decluttering process, and I’ve saved some serious cash. Have you priced bubble wrap lately? It must be a petroleum by-product. I'm thinking it could replace the dollar as the international unit of currency.

If you really want to scratch your head, consider this. Some of the things I’ve packed up went back into the same cartons in which they made the trip up here. (They were all carefully labeled.) Remember: I was a Virgo before they concocted that new Zodiac.

Another news tidbit is one you may have heard. A conservative religious newspaper removed Hilary Clinton from the photo where the national security team was watching the bin Laden raid. They believe any photos of women can stir sexual desires. Seriously. Have they ever actually seen a woman in a pantsuit? They give men credit for way too much imagination.

And finally, going from the ridiculous to the sublime… A Time magazine article on the 400th birthday of the King James Bible shared the following piece of arcane trivia. Apparently there was a typo in the 1631 edition. As a result, the seventh commandment instructed: “Thou shalt commit adultery.” For those who are so inclined, from KJB’s mouth to God’s ear, so go for it.

For my part, I’m hoping someone unearths a version that dictates: “Thou shat imbibe freely of Barolo wine and indulge heavily in Godiva chocolates.” Amen to that.

In Praise of Politics-Free Zones

I was one of the organizers for my recent 55^th high school reunion in New Jersey. Just 40% of our class went on to college back then. In addition to college prep, the school provided vocational and skill-oriented tracks such as auto mechanics, shop, industrial design, beauty culture, secretarial and home economics. The committee members knew that the political leanings of our class range from far right to far left, even just among the six of us. We agreed to declare the event a “Politics-Free Zone.” We posted notices and made an announcement at the beginning of the Saturday night dinner.

I’ve spent much of the past two years alternating between semi-depression and extreme stress. The last thing I wanted to do at my high school reunion was get into arguments about politics. My best friend from grade school (also on the committee) is one of those who hold views one hundred eighty degrees opposite from mine. We’ve managed to stay civil on our Facebook posts and not let these differences affect our friendship—an increasingly rare accomplishment. The fact that we see each other only every few years probably helps, but still…

So it was with some trepidation and a higher than normal stress level that I reached this milestone event after a four hour drive that should have taken two and a half hours. The committee had a brief confab about whether we needed to publicly state no politics, since that was posted on two of the information boards in the room. We decided to do so, but low key, emphasizing that we’re all adults.

Now that the weekend is in my rear-view, I’m happy to report that there was no shouting, no physical violence and no sniping as far as we could tell. Everyone seemed to have an enjoyable time. We shared stories of various trips from one end of the globe to another. Some folks focused on their grandchildren, with photos to support their pride-worthy accomplishments.

Two recent widows who were there had been reluctant to come. I told each of them that she wouldn’t be the only one having had a recent loss. (We had a recent widower, too.) They were able to share their struggles over what to do after so many years with one spouse, and how they were finally emerging from the fog of grief. They were glad they decided to make the trip. The class had invited a handful of our teachers who were still around to be our guests. The event offered the chance for everyone to meet on more level ground at this point in our lives.

I arrived home after a stress-free two and a half hour drive, feeling as though I’d had a mini-vacation. As I thought about the weekend, I realized that a big part of my upbeat mindset was that I hadn’t turned on a TV for three days. I had no conversations about politics or the upcoming election. There were plenty of other things to discuss. Who was still playing in a band or had recently taken up an instrument again. Who had retired but was brought back by her company as a consultant, making more than when she was on staff and with dental benefits, too. Who recently became a vegetarian or is trying that Paleo diet.

There was a lot of talk about joint replacement surgeries. My husband (who had his second knee done three days after the reunion) found someone to chat with through most of Saturday dinner—the husband of one of my classmates. I think they discussed the economy and world trade—perilously close to politics in my opinion, but apparently not in theirs. Everyone agreed that the “no politics” rule made it safer to approach old friends to ask where life had taken them.

As you enter into what is often the most stressful season of the year, I urge you to declare your holiday "politics free". You can make a lovely little sign with holly and berries on it. And if Uncle Biff insists on getting into it with Aunt Edna, tell them politely to take it outside. You’ll thank me by the time you’re doing the dishes.

Copyright 2018 Business Theatre Unlimited