With global warming, Minnesota’s status as the Boy It Gets Cold There State is not even accurate, and what’s worse, it’s taken away we Minnesota males’ chance to demonstrate competence. After fourteen inches of snow, you go out the door and hear tires screaming and smell burning rubber and see Nadine the neighbor lady at the wheel of her Buick stuck in a snowbank and you walk over and tap on her window. She opens it. She looks crazed, in a rage, foaming at the mouth, and you say, calmly, “Let me help you.” And she gets out and you get in and you rock the car gently back and forth, and expertly rock it over the hump and out of the snowbank. She offers you money. You say, “No no no no. My pleasure.” You walk away.
You are a sensitive caring well-read progressive male with an interest in the arts but with no handyman skills whatsoever. This heroic rescue is the testosterone highlight of your year, the urban equivalent of rescuing a child from a grizzly. You also have a pair of jumper cables in your trunk so you can start a car with a dead battery, but a balmy winter such as those we’ve been having denies you these manly opportunities. Your only remaining guy skills are reaching things on high shelves or using a plunger to open a clogged toilet. Not nearly so impressive.
