Scientists, in laboratories all over the globe, are busy thinking of new and hilarious ways to make mice fucking even more pointless. But don’t laugh too hard at blank shooting rodents, because science’ll be coming for your testicles next!
Since the invention of the penis approximately 47 billion years ago man has been desperately trying to devise ways to control them. They are godless fornication machines, guided only by impulse and an unyielding quest for personal gain and satisfaction of their unquenchable desires. Hell bent on destroying all those that possess them, whether it be through their devilish creation of distilled, fermented spirits used to bend the will of their symbiotic hosts, or their ingenious invention of the internet which they use to transmit their images around the globe to all of those who would marvel at their grandeur.
At the moment there are only two proven methods of male contraception: prayer and butt sex. And if you ask any homosexual couple trying to have a child, they’ll tell you it’s nigh impossible to impregnate each other, try as they might, but science still isn’t sure if it’s the power of the prayers of people who hate other people despite their own god telling them not to hate anyone, or just the simple fact that the homosexual uterus is located just below the left lung, too far for the penis to reach through either of the homosexual’s two favorite orifices… try as they might.
Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on the proclivity or selfish laziness of whom you ask, heterosexual procreation is much more easily achievable. Almost anyone can do it. But that seems to be the problem. And rather than continue on as we have for the last fifty years, allowing the ladies to take almost complete responsibility for repelling the seminal onslaught on their innards, science says that gentlemen should have more contraceptive options than simply genital mutilation or specially designed poison coated miniature trash bags.
So armies of spooge hating scientists around the world are experimenting with all sorts ways to keep testicle tadpoles from getting from point A to unfertilized egg B. With experimental “solutions” including stopping and restarting sperm production in mice, bombarding scrotums with ultrasound waves, removing proteins that keep sperm cells from being able to penetrate eggs, and blocking vitamin A. You see, apparently as this article seems to suggests and I’m not interested enough to look for confirmation of, “life wigglies” as I so childishly refer to them, are composed solely of vitamin A. So just know, if you ever take any supplement that contains vitamin A, you’re swallowing semen.
In India they’re testing an injectable synthetic substance that “sabotages sperm as they leave the testes and lasts for years”. I don’t even know what that means, or have any idea of what it COULD mean. I didn’t realize that a sperm cell had so many moving parts that you could simply loosen a bolt or two and it’d fly apart, slam into your urethral wall and explode in a tiny, tiny fireball.
As for what’s already on the market, in addition to the customary permanent snip and latex straight jackets there’s also apparently other “hormone gels and implants that can make men temporarily infertile” available in America “for other purposes”. I’m going to chalk up the “for other purposes” in their description of these currently available temporary infertility gels and implants as some sort of error in translation from what ever language is native to this jizm hating propagandist, because aside from preventing unintentional impregnation, I’m not entirely sure what other purposes temporary infertility could serve. I can’t even think of any ridiculous explanations for a statement as seemingly nonsensical as this one. And when I can’t think of a way to properly ridicule the stupid thing that you just said, it makes me angry, and frightened, and then angry again. Because I don’t know if you’re the smartest person in the world or if you’ve just invented a new stupid that will surely kill us all.
Me, I’m a traditionalist. I don’t need any fancy doodads and rigmarole to make sure I don’t end up a with a miniature version of myself that only seems to take pleasure in shitting on me. I personally employ the time tested “paint the naval” technique of birth control, which, in doing actual research on the subject I have found when done properly has almost the same effectiveness as any other form of over the counter birth control. Of course, when done incorrectly the failure rate sextuples, but I just have a hard time understanding how the “thorax frosting” method could be done incorrectly. Maybe I’ve lived a sheltered life, but I’ve never been surprised by the culmination of my own pelvic efforts. At no point in my life have I ever suddenly, and without substantial forewarning experienced an eruption of mount baldy that’s caught me completely unawares… But I guess I just understand how my personal workings and doings present themselves, and apparently that makes me special.
So science: leave my gonads alone! Let the ladies handle the parenthood prevention, because left in the hands of those completely ruled by their more powerful apendage, contraception will be less than pointless. I can’t be trusted to not to forget to put my watch on before leaving for wok, you think I’m going to remember to spray my groin with vitamin A killing lasers every morning?
Besides, what me and my seed do is nobody’s business but mine and who or what ever I decide to shellac with it.