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Ribbed for your pleasure
Aug. 24th, 2002 06:41 pmI realize that I have a reputation for being private, even cryptic, but you and I know that I've always been straight with you on the subject of international conspiracies. For that reason, and that reason alone, I have to impart to you a theory with dire implications:
The profligate number of condom varieties is clearly a right-wing plot to stop people from having sex.
It's obvious when you think about it. Colors? Flavours? Different sizes?! Dear God! It's latex! It stretches!!!
Picture with me for a moment: Person A and Person B decide to sleep together, and being responsible they schedule it in advance, building in time to purchase a prophylactic. Together, they walk to the convenience store.
Person A: So. Sizing. What's that about?
Person B: Well, you know, people. They're different sizes.
A: Are they?
B: So I've been told.
A: You haven't made a detailed examination, have you?
B: Possibly I have and possibly I have not. I don't see as it's your business anyway.
A: Although I am beginning to question the foundation of our relationship, I will press this line of investigation further. Doesn't latex stretch?
B: Well, yes.
A: I mean, don't condoms arrive as little disks which stretch to fit as opposed to, say, plate armour?
B: Yes. But you have to pick a size.
A: Is there a sizing chart? Am I to assume that "average" is actually "small" and "large" is actually "average"? Is the measurement made while tumescent? Is it based upon length or girth? O answer me please, you who is so knowlegeable on the subject of condom sizing!
B: Look, there's no need to take your frustrations with the Trojan company out on me. I sense a terrifying pattern whereby I become a scapegoat for your various perturbations with life.
A: Let's see other people.
B: Yes, let's.
Although you can clearly see that the purchasing of condoms can dissolve the relationship before sex occurs, an eagle eye will spot a glaring fallacy in the composition of the above dialogue. That fallacy is the assumption that Persons A and B are actually willing to walk into a convenience store together and there engage in such a debate. In reality, they will instead be daunted, both together and seperately. They will spend several weeks walking by the convenience store, looking in the window, sighing, and continuing on to the smoothie stand.
In fact, this stage might last several years, until they say "fuck it, let's get married and have kids rather than dealing with this entire condom issue." After all, although kids might be a hassle and a major financial investment, it prevents one from having to speak to an underage clerk who still wears colored bands on her braces. Also, she's your kid sister's best friend.
The alternative might seem to be shoplifting. Unfortunately, retailers are one step ahead and train five security cameras on the condom rack, all of which will send photos to your mother. Travelling in the right circles, you might even be exposed to the special line of Hallmark cards which vary from "Isn't that sweet; your son's all grown up and he bought his first condom," to "Your daughter is a disgrace and the entire church sewing circle is gossiping about her."
So effectively the conspiracy comes from two angles: on the one hand it takes out the bashful suburbanites who are embarrassed to make the purchase, and on the other it eliminates the gutsy free-thinkers who are paralyzed by the baffling number of options. End result? No safe sex, allowing God's Wrath to punish those who, dare I say, copulate recreationally.
The profligate number of condom varieties is clearly a right-wing plot to stop people from having sex.
It's obvious when you think about it. Colors? Flavours? Different sizes?! Dear God! It's latex! It stretches!!!
Picture with me for a moment: Person A and Person B decide to sleep together, and being responsible they schedule it in advance, building in time to purchase a prophylactic. Together, they walk to the convenience store.
Person A: So. Sizing. What's that about?
Person B: Well, you know, people. They're different sizes.
A: Are they?
B: So I've been told.
A: You haven't made a detailed examination, have you?
B: Possibly I have and possibly I have not. I don't see as it's your business anyway.
A: Although I am beginning to question the foundation of our relationship, I will press this line of investigation further. Doesn't latex stretch?
B: Well, yes.
A: I mean, don't condoms arrive as little disks which stretch to fit as opposed to, say, plate armour?
B: Yes. But you have to pick a size.
A: Is there a sizing chart? Am I to assume that "average" is actually "small" and "large" is actually "average"? Is the measurement made while tumescent? Is it based upon length or girth? O answer me please, you who is so knowlegeable on the subject of condom sizing!
B: Look, there's no need to take your frustrations with the Trojan company out on me. I sense a terrifying pattern whereby I become a scapegoat for your various perturbations with life.
A: Let's see other people.
B: Yes, let's.
Although you can clearly see that the purchasing of condoms can dissolve the relationship before sex occurs, an eagle eye will spot a glaring fallacy in the composition of the above dialogue. That fallacy is the assumption that Persons A and B are actually willing to walk into a convenience store together and there engage in such a debate. In reality, they will instead be daunted, both together and seperately. They will spend several weeks walking by the convenience store, looking in the window, sighing, and continuing on to the smoothie stand.
In fact, this stage might last several years, until they say "fuck it, let's get married and have kids rather than dealing with this entire condom issue." After all, although kids might be a hassle and a major financial investment, it prevents one from having to speak to an underage clerk who still wears colored bands on her braces. Also, she's your kid sister's best friend.
The alternative might seem to be shoplifting. Unfortunately, retailers are one step ahead and train five security cameras on the condom rack, all of which will send photos to your mother. Travelling in the right circles, you might even be exposed to the special line of Hallmark cards which vary from "Isn't that sweet; your son's all grown up and he bought his first condom," to "Your daughter is a disgrace and the entire church sewing circle is gossiping about her."
So effectively the conspiracy comes from two angles: on the one hand it takes out the bashful suburbanites who are embarrassed to make the purchase, and on the other it eliminates the gutsy free-thinkers who are paralyzed by the baffling number of options. End result? No safe sex, allowing God's Wrath to punish those who, dare I say, copulate recreationally.
