Pride Post – To Cut Or Not To Cut. It’s Not Even a Question

By Joshie Jaxon 

This isn’t a normal Pride Post. It’s not a piece on gay culture. It’s more like my Balls to Cancer post, in that it’s more about overall male health. I’m not a shy person. I’ve stripped myself bare before the world, both literally and figuratively. I’ve spoken about my coming out, my cancer scare, my struggles with depression and suicidal thoughts, but this one seems almost more personal than those. Today I’ll be touching on a subject that sparks controversy, discussions, and uncomfortable feelings. I’m going to talk about the impacts of circumcision. If such subject matter offends you, I don’t particularly care. If the worst thing that’s happened to you is you got offended by something on the Internet, consider yourself lucky. I know my mom hates when I cover subjects like this. If you’re reading this, you may just want to stop here. 

I’ll preface my story by stated that I don’t fault my parents for what they did. They were young, and it was the early 80’s. Like many American males, I was circumcised as an infant. It wasn’t for religious reasons. My family has never been big on religion in general. It was an aesthetic choice, made by my parents at the time. They wanted me to be “normal”, and to look like everyone else so I wouldn’t get picked on for being different and standing out. If only they’d known the person I’d grow up to be. I pride myself on being different from everyone else. I see things they don’t. I prefer it that way, and wouldn’t change it for the world. My circumcision on the other hand, is another story. This was something permanent that was done to my body, and I wasn’t consulted or given any kind of say in the matter. How could I? I was a newborn. A doctor took a scalpel, removed a piece of my penis, and I can never get it back. One of the first messages I was given in life was that I was unacceptable the way I was born, and I needed to be altered so that I could better fit in to the world in which I lived. Fuck that. 

Now, I know what most people say about this topic. They’re babies. They don’t/won’t remember it. That’s great and all, but it doesn’t change the fact that my body was mutilated for some Americanized standard of beauty/normalcy. Allow me to counter that particular argument. Say that anything that happened to you today, anything at all, was completely forgotten by morning. Now, say you were raped. Say you were stabbed. Robbed. Mugged. Got knocked up. Whatever. Morning comes. You don’t have any memory of that happening to you. Does it erase the fact that it did? No. You now have to live the rest of your life dealing with repercussions of actions you may have had no part in, let alone memory of. Bottom line, I don’t remember being cut, but I live with it every day. 

Most of us don’t think much of our genitals, except when we need to pee, they’re in need of medical attention, or they’re giving us pleasure. Growing up, I certainly didn’t comprehend the extent of what had been done to me. I knew how I looked. I knew how my peers in the locker room looked. There was nothing that screamed I was physically “abnormal” in my life. Flash forward to the Internet age. Aside from having access to a literal world of information, at an intellectual and educational level, we also have access to people and pornography from all over the globe. With so much exposed flesh, it isn’t hard to notice that not everyone has the same “style” genitalia that you do. You begin to question why. At least I did. 

I know for some, circumcision is a religious thing. I’m not here to bash religion. Whatever you do to yourself or your children is between you and your god. That being said, most religions I’m familiar with state that we’re made in god’s image. That means god, assumed as a male, would have a foreskin. It’s a safe assumption that he was never circumcised. One, who would have done it? Two, who would he have had it done for? Three, he’s freaking god. No one is gonna go up to the almighty and say, I’d hit that, but your penis doesn’t look good. Bitch, he will smite you. Boom! 

I’m not straight, or a parent. I’m not trying to start a fight here, but I don’t think that women should have a say in what happens to their son’s genitals. Yes, that includes single/adoptive mothers. It isn’t yours to decide how it should look/function. At the very least, let him decide when he is old enough to understand the consequences of that action. Think of it this way, ladies. Would you want your husband/fathers deciding to have you or your daughter’s clitoris/labia/etc removed, strictly because he said so, cause you’d be “normal”, and you just had to live with it? Spoiler alert, the answer is hell no. You already don’t want men affecting your right to choose. Your body, your choice, am I right? Of course I am. Why aren’t your sons give that same respect? It’s their body, and should be their choice. Short of medical need/emergency, there is no earthly reason to destroy a piece of your child, simply because they won’t have memory of it, so who did it really hurt? 

I can tell you exactly who it hurts. Each and every one of us. Some men are cut so tightly, that when they hit puberty their erections are painful because there isn’t enough skin there to accommodate the expanded form. Others have sections still connected, while others have so much of their frenulum removed that they experience very little pleasure from penile stimulation. All of this senseless loss, for nothing. The only reason that Americans decided that uncut/intact men were bad, is that societal pressure warped the way we view the male form and what is considered normal. Many go through life feeling cheated, mutilated, betrayed, and incomplete. As I stated, most of us don’t think about it, and are able to function, but there are others, like myself, that are aware of exactly what happened to us, and there’s no way to go back. We’re out of the Matrix, and see the world for what it is. 

There’s a growing section of the male population that is working to restore that which was taken. There are products like the Sen Slip and ManHood, that are designed to help restore sensitivity to the head of the penis, since it has been worn down from years, even decades of exposure to clothing rubbing on it. Think of it like your feet. If you go barefoot everywhere, your skin gets rough to accommodate, whereas if you’re always in slippers/socks/shoes, your feet may be super sensitive. Other guys take matters into their own hands, and spend years trying to regrow and restore their foreskin, some going as far as to have surgery. We’re so desperate to feel whole, to feel complete, to feel like the men we were intended to be. Please, I implore you, before you have your son’s penis permanently altered, do your research. Don’t do it simply so they can “look their dad” or “fit in better”, or because “that’s what’s expected”. At least be honest and say that you don’t want to deal with the maintenance until they’re old enough to do it themselves. None of those are reasons to destroy a child that had just entered the world. Ask yourself, if they were cutting you, wouldn’t you want a say in it? 

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Top 5 Tuesday – Spaceballs

By Joshie Jaxon 

Greetings, geek fans! It’s been forever since we had a countdown on our site. I decided a good way to bring those back, as well as cover an entire movie without breaking it into multiple parts, was to countdown the best moments of classic films we all know and love. The first to get the Joshie treatment will be the Mel Brooks classic, Spaceballs. I’ve loved this movie since it was new, though probably shouldn’t have seen it at that age. Oh well, it made me the Joshie I am today. I’m gonna try and stick to a top 5, but as there are numerous great moments in this one, I may throw in some extras. Let the geeks begin! 
Honorable Mention – “I’m trying to conduct a wedding, which has nothing to do with love, please be quiet.”

That priest entertains me. That’s the sort of religious official I’d be. You know, if I had religious powers. Which people don’t want me having, so the point is moot. On with the list. 

 

5- “Why didn’t anybody tell me my ass was so big?!”

Towards the beginning of the film, President Skroob is advised that Dark Helmet is closing in on Princess Vespa, if he’d like to observe. The commanderette offers to beam him to the room. The president isn’t too sure, but she assures him that Snotty beamed her twice last night, and that it was wonderful. Giggity. He agrees, since it worked on Star Trek. However, when the president arrives, his head is on backwards. He looks down, moves his jacket, and asks why no one told him his ass was that big. Pause, I’d like to point out that were President Skroob a power bottom, as I’ve often thought he is, this would be perfect for him to get plowed, and still be able to kiss his partner. What? Some people collect stamps. Who’re you to judge me? Anyhow, they offer to beam him back. No, this time he’s going to walk. Right into the next room. Classic. 

4- “Ludicrous speed, go!”

After Lone Star has captured Princess Vespa from the Spaceballs, they use their hyperjets to get away. Dark Helmet says they need to catch them. Sanders orders the crew to prepare for light speed. Helmet says light speed is too slow, and they’ll need to go straight to ludicrous speed. The colonel says he doesn’t know if the ship can take it. Helmet retorts, “what’s the matter Colonel Sanders, chicken?”. I love KFC humor. You just know the character was named that for this single joke. Sanders orders the ship to prepare for ludicrous speed, and buckles in. Helmet does not. He orders ludicrous speed, and immediately regrets it. If he hadn’t grabbed the console, he’d be at the back of the ship. They pass Lone Star, and Helmet demands they stop. Sanders says they need to slow down first. Bullshit! Stop this thing, I order you! Stop! Sanders pulls the brake, and sends Dark Helmet flying into the front of the ship. It’s a good thing he was wearing that helmet. 

3- “That was my virgin alarm. It’s programmed to go off before you do.”

After landing on the desert moon of Vega, Lone Star and Vespa are sitting by the fire, while Dot Matrix and Barf sleep. Vespa is cold, and Lone Star gives her his jacket. She sniffs it, and her face is priceless. He says the cold doesn’t bother him. He must be related to Elsa. Maybe that’s where, spoiler alert, his royal heritage comes from. Vespa can’t find Druidia in the night sky. Lone Star points it out. He asks why she ran away from her wedding. If he must know, she wasn’t in love with the groom, but she’s a princess; she had to marry a prince. Vespa realizes that love is one luxury a princess cannot afford. She can learn to live without love. Love isn’t that important. She can be fine the rest of her life without love. Without physical contact. Without being held. Or kissed. All the while, they’re inching closer and closer together until it goes off. No, not Lone Star’s pocket blaster. Dot’s alarm. She calls Lone Star a sex fiend. Please, Star Lord and Kirk are bigger players than he is. 

2- “No, sir! I didn’t see you playing with your dolls again.”

After acquiring Vespa from Vega, Dark Helmet got his action figures out and is having a little pretend time. His Helmet figure is going on about how he can have his way with her. No, she hates him… And yet, she finds him strangely attractive. Of course, Druish princesses are often attracted to money and power. He has both, and she knows it. Oh, your helmet is so big. It’s at that moment the door opens, and we get a great, just got caught by the parents while touching yourself moment. Helmet scrambles to get his figures out of sight. Knock on my door! Knock next time! Did you see anything? No, sir, I didn’t see you playing with your dolls again. I laugh every time. 

 

1- “My hair! He shot my hair! Son of a bitch!”

After fighting their way to the castle, beyond the goblin city. Oops, wrong movie. Kidding. This is my favorite scene in the entire show. The heroes are making their way outside, under a barrage of laser fire, which because they’re Stormtrooper parodies, can’t hit anything, except the lock on the broad side of the Winnebago. Can’t get in the other door, it’s locked. Where are the keys? Inside. Great! Lone Star says to hold them off, and hands Vespa a blaster. She’s not shooting that thing, she hates guns. Then a laser hits her. “My hair! He shot my hair! Son of a bitch!”. Vespa cocks the gun, and shoots every single trooper. Barf speaks for us all, “holy shit!”. Vespa asks how she did. Not bad. Not bad, for a girl. Hey, that was pretty good for Rambo. I love that scene so much. I laugh out loud and cheer. She just kicks so much ass. You go, Vespa. Girl power! 

There you have it. My favorite Spaceballs moments. Did your favorite make the cut? Feel free to comment. Geeks will always triumph because cool is dumb. Until next time, stay geeky, and may the Schwartz be with you!