I'm learning to like 'em more, along with every other human idiosyncracy. Besides, it makes a kind of sense, the idea of some resonance occuring in one's gusset. Timber timbre. Flangent thrumming.
Tuning fork in loins just makes me think of that chess cheating scandal with a vibrating butt plug.
Just like in Asimov's "Monkey's Finger".