After undergoing my vasectomy in mid-September, I was given orders by my doctor to return in 10 weeks to offer a sample of my goody-goody gum-drops. And during that 10 weeks, I was also given orders to do my due diligence of evacuating my vas deferens.
A lot.
Like, basically ejaculating everywhere I go, all the time. Welp, this is the 10th week, and I’m delighted to say that I’m right on schedule. In fact, I’m a little bit ahead, thank you very much. The entire family is very proud.
Of course, much of this daunting task was able to be tackled via traditional means with my smokin’ hot lady-wife and the magical powers of imagination. And bath products.
That said – let’s talk about porn.
PORNOGRAPHY
Noun – (por·nog·ra·phy) /pôrˈnägrəfē/ • Printed or visual material containing the explicit description or display of sexual organs or activity, intended to stimulate erotic rather than aesthetic or emotional feelings. Induces boners. (Oxford Dictionary)
And looky there – it’s Greek. Who woulda guessed?
πορνογραφία (pornographia)
It roughly breaks down to “writing about prostitutes.”
I’d like to see his credentials.
Now, I’m certainly no porn expert. But I’m no novice either. And according to statistics, neither are you. At least 70% of computers with the internet visit a site of ill repute every month. I remember the first time I discovered the naked possibilities of the open web. It was Mother’s Day. I thought a spa treatment would be a swell gift for my dear mother. So, I googled, “facial.” KaBlooey! I felt as though I had unlocked some dirty secret wormhole in the universe. I looked around to see if somebody was playing a trick on me or something. It may very well have been the greatest day of my life. Anyway, I got my mom a gift certificate to Half Price Books.
Here are some things I learned during my recent “research”:
Pornography has incredible girth. Seriously, it’s a huge industry. It is estimated to generate upwards of $14 billion a year in the U.S. alone. That’s more than any of the major league sports. Although, I personally consider women’s volleyball to be crossover programming.
Pornography has thrusting power. It leads the way in determining the media technology and formatting of your entertainment. VHS, Beta, DVD, Blu-Ray, cave walls, etc. Booty-clarity has decided them all. (See anal bleaching)
Pornography is geriatric. It has been around forever. Exaggerated genitalia are on the walls of freakin’ caves. As soon as there was a printing press in the 15th century, there was a smut novel. As soon as motion pictures were developed in 1895, there was a smut movie (1897).
Sexy gravy boat you got there, Tiberius.
Pornography is in your face. It is everywhere. It spans cultures and languages and races and sometimes even species. Photos, movies, paintings, prose and cartoons have all been used. And, it is almost impossible to avoid on the internet. Try this. Turn off the safe-search on your browser and do an image search for anything. Really. ANYTHING. Somewhere, somebody has related it to boobies.
Most importantly, pornography is vast. Endless. It’s rather overwhelming. Whatever you want, it’s out there. Whatever you don’t want, it’s out there, too. Singles. Couples. Big groups. Little groups. Humongous crowds. Animals. Feet. Heels. Leather. Latex. Cheaters. Teachers. Gushers. Secretaries. Babysitters. Whatever.
Choose race. Choose age. Choose your favorite body part, position, nipple-shape or circumcision. Whatever.
Even the taboo gets taboo. Some sites advertise rape, revenge, incest and hidden cameras. Even puke, pee and poop. Whatever.
Furries are people in giant animal costumes. It’s like an orgy on stage at Chuck E. Cheese.
Hentai is hot Japanese cartoon action. With lots of tentacles.
Big Babies are grown men in diapers. Almost always overweight.
Look Ma. No self respect.
And, as they say in the industry, that’s just the tip. I could go on and on forever and ever and ever. But, whatever.
My big date with a plastic cup is in a couple of days. I considered showing up with a one-gallon milk jug full of yogurt, boasting, “Here ya go! 10 weeks!” But, my wife has convinced me otherwise. Instead, I will just turn in my single-serving size of hopefully sterile semen to the lucky boys down at the load lab. If I score a zero, then I go back two weeks later and turn in a second sample to a different lab for confirmation. If that is also a zero – it’s party time. No internet needed.
Oh, you might want to turn back on your safe-search.
Or not.
Whatever.
Sans Deferens 
