The Internet Is For, Well, You Know

This morning, devoted partner and I shared a meaningful moment. If you're a couple, then I'm sure you'll know what I mean. Those unexpected times when your love calls out to you, something funny in his or her voice, and says those six words every lover wants to hear,

"I just saw Brett Favre's (rhymes with) sock!"

Eagerly, I took the stairs quickly, the surprise and anticipation in my voice, "really?"

Apparently, there's a new tactic in wooing that the kids (who the hell am I kidding, Brett Favre is like 108) involving photographing your junk and sending it along. I know that this must work since I am forever lamenting the lack of junk photos in my inbox and encouraging devoted partner, and really anyone else, to snap and send.

For a moment, let's just get the unspoken out there so that others may be spared: don't photograph your genitals. Don't! If you absolutely must photograph your genitals, do not ever email them anywhere. Ever! Unless your genitals are being photographed by Herb Ritts, you will not be pleased by what happens after others see the picture. I myself felt no compunction mocking Brett Favre's absolutely average genitals. And this was long before I mocked his motivation for photographing them in the first place.

And let's talk about that, Brett. I'm a woman. I like the genitals of men. Under no circumstances do I ever want to receive an email from someone I'm not already sleeping with (and frankly, I'm not that into receiving one from someone I am sleeping with as, presumably, I already know what they look like) showing a disembodied meat puppet. This is an ego thing, I guess. You think women don't care about the rest of you as much as they care about your vaunted pokey toy. This is a fallacy. And the only kinds of people who send these kinds of pictures are gross people with whom, if we weren't already sleeping, we certainly wouldn't start and, had we started, might consider stopping.

Flowers are nice. They say, "hey I'm interested in having a relatively meaningless casual affair with you based primarily on how you look in a cheerleading outfit" without, say, being disgusting. Now, I can understand if you gave her the picture so that she could supplement her income by selling it, but I think you missed out on the part of the equation that necessitated other people seeing it (I'm thinking your wife, kids, grade school teachers, etc. oh wait, Wikipedia also informs me you have a grandchild - kudos) if the young lady was to reap profits. Would it have not been easier to simply let 10 grand fall out of your pocket?

I am not the only one, Mr. Favre, who has now laughed not only at your grand scale stupidity, but also at your decidedly NOT grand scale Leaning Tower of Pisa. In fact we're laughing at you more than we did when you said you were retiring. We're laughing at you because dumb is funny and you seem to have gotten enough dumb to keep us entertained for quite some time.