A Name Spoken in Every Language

 By: Jimmy Hackett

We shall, in due course, come to see the measure of man as their actions. So defined by those moments amongst the pillars of stagnation and misery, when a select few chose the noble path of progress. Eye for an eye leaves the whole world in perfect balance.

Evil begs for explanation. But what explanation can be given for the relentless abandonment of pursuit of the good. Simply put…complacency. Too afraid to risk our comfort, we settled for the ancient purgatory of mediocrity.

Nay, send me the criminals, those unabashed free thinkers and do-it-yourselfers. That joyous species of man hellbent on discovering the future.

I entered this world a boy. I aim to leave a man. One step on that journey, a radical departure from whitey-tighties to boxer briefs.

As always, I ask the humble reader to join me. This time, we wander back to summer camp.

For most kids, summer camp is a time of adventure and fun. For me, it was a time of suffering. I hated summer camp. I belong to a select group of people who are not fond of doing things. I prefer the calm and simple life afforded to one within the confines of their own home. The notion of going out has never had much appeal, so the prospect of summer camp presented itself in a thoroughly daunting manner.

But aside from these concerns, there was another fear. The fear of undergarment bullying. Every boy begins their life wearing what are colloquially known as “whitey-tighties.” I was no different. I was a huge fan of the garment and owned quite a variety. In fact, as a youngster, several pairs had designs on back. To better see these designs, I would wear my underwear backwards. People often object that this negated the fold on the front for urination. But this presents no problem to a kid prepared to drop trow. And I was and remain ready to drop trow. But I digress.

Summer camp would be full of changing in front of people. And the possibility of a room full of kids laughing at my underwear as they strutted around in boxers seemed truly awful. I knew it was time to man up. So, I asked my mom to buy me different underwear.

To prepare for the transition to boxer briefs, I had my mom buy me a few pairs about a month before camp. Now, as I stated above, I have no fear of trouser-drop. But there’s a time and a place. I figured part of my transition to boxer briefs could include a transition to peeing without pulling my pants all the way to the ground. I won’t dwell too much on the specifics, but if anyone listening still pees the old-fashioned way, let me share some wisdom to help with the transition. When re-holstering, the key is the reverse hip thrust. But be careful. If you can’t get your penis into the cover of your pants, you may accidentally flash the whole bathroom. Practice makes perfect. And in my opinion, when it comes to picking boxers avoid buttons on the fly. At first, a button on the fly seems like a nice feature. But this makes peeing much more difficult. Trying to undo a button when you have to pee is like defusing a bomb. And rebuttoning looks awkward as hell. When in public bathrooms, you want to spend as little time with your hands in your pants as possible, generally speaking. Of course, there are always exceptions. As far as sizing, you do have to worry about your penis popping out when you switch to boxers. But with patience, you too will develop the keen eye for picking out the perfect pair.

Those few months of practice made a world of difference. To this day, I still pee without pulling my pants all the way down to the ground, and I am still wearing a more mature undergarment. You are only ever changing. The question is what you change in to. I decided to change into boxer briefs.