Why?

Don't get me wrong, I love my people. I love the south and 96% of everything about it. I adore the way we talk, our kindness, our sassiness, our collective sense of humor. I love southern food, southern ways, the southern sense of honor. I love our lush landscape, our architecture and lack thereof, our tortured writers of gothic tales and the fact that we stick our lunatics right out on the front porch for everyone to see. I detest the stereotypical southerner's bigotry and am thankful that, in reality, it's not nearly so common as yankees believe. Neither is our generally presumed stupidity as pervasive as the stereotypes would lead one to believe. And there is nothing on this earth as fine as a ripe tomato sandwich on white bread with Miracle Whip(yes, Miracle Whip).

I drive a Mini and a Dodge Ram Pickup and I love them both. Heading to auction yesterday evening in the Mini, I encountered one of my people, actually a whole gaggle of them, encased in an immense Dodge Ram Dually with extended cab and bed. It was a monster of a truck. Driving a truck myself, I do not, of course, judge truck people. I need mine for my business and assume that Joe Willie in his big green monster needed his for something.

What I judge is this:

And I can only ask why. Why would a man hang testicles off the back of his bigass truck? I wouldn't hang a rubber vagina off my little Mini Cooper. Do I need to see dangling testicles as I'm speeding down the road. All due respect, testicles aren't the most attractive of body parts. There's a reason God made men to wear pants and that's to minimize any chance exposure of these unattractive objets to the world at large. Cover them up. They can be great fun, but please don't hang them off your bumper. Don't. Just . . . don't. Please.