Crazy Jack Frost Didn’t End the World for Men, It’s Just Come to Console Them

Let’s be honest, Jack Frost is serious business for everyone. About half of the country’s population will endure at least one month of unseasonably cold temperatures by the end of the season, according to…

Crazy Jack Frost Didn’t End the World for Men, It’s Just Come to Console Them

Let’s be honest, Jack Frost is serious business for everyone. About half of the country’s population will endure at least one month of unseasonably cold temperatures by the end of the season, according to the NWS. For those who aren’t a little angry about this, though, trust me, the games will never end, ’cause the games never end.

Contrary to the blizzard of shame that followed Stephen Colbert’s mocking and pun-laden tweet about a “winter vagina,” thankfully, men’s genitals are equally vulnerable. Yes, the armpits. We women get them, too.

As The New York Times reported earlier this week, “The sudden return of jack-naps might ultimately be good news for the delicate nerves of the penis. The salt on the skin of that delicate meat could be keeping germs from infecting them, and helping to make the area more sensitive for the next lucky man.”

So far, this has never been better illustrated than by Vinay Menon, who garnered a collective gasp from those of us (myself included) who had anticipated the Snow Miser nightmare. Menon, unlike the Gangnam Style-ful Colbert, did not take pity on us men (yikes, speak for yourself!). In fact, it seems that those of us ladies who are happy that the puppy has settled onto a warm bed and is finally sleeping through the night are in the minority. And I quote:

“No, that’s not disgusting, that’s downright wanky. What happened is it snowed this week, so some men woke up in the morning and literally flushed their dicks down the drain.”

I swear I feel like I just heard Roger Ebert wax poetic about the Platonic ideal of an Indian lady: “She hasn’t got a pussy, she’s got a botox pen.”

That is Vinay Menon, for those of you wondering, who feels the same way about, I think, some weak coffee a couple of mornings ago that I just wish I could forget.

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