One of my more interesting unintentional content-inspirers posted something majestic today.
It came from this Facebook group (which has probably been around for ages, but since I live under a rock is totally new to me) called “Christians Against Drugs”. The site actually touches on sex and everything else fun in addition to the mind-altering goodies. And it’s so deliciously dripping in satire, that I spent a good five minutes meandering down the feed, reading posts about “injecting marijuana”. Unfortunately, though I’ve met plenty’a intelligent members from every religion, the response comments from self-proclaimed Christians taking this seriously seemed to serve as regrettable confirmation to anyone who thinks common sense and organized religion are mutually exclusive possessions. Because if the written sarcasm with all its intentionally misspelled and #doingitwrong explanaches about drug use aren’t enough to be seen as spoofery, then certainly the pictures would be a tip off:
(I feel like there should be a whole page of meth make-unders where Steve Buscemi is the end result for every one.)
Instead, I see post after post of over-their-heads replies.
And I don’t mean post-irony, either – which I adore and revere.
No, people really aren’t getting sarcasm anymore – which worries me. Because sarcasm, says science, is a sign of intelligence. And if this many people are this terrible at detecting it, what kind of a mind-Titanic nation have I chosen to remain aboard? And will my proximity to its commoner class with their collective consciousness catching hypothermia also lead me into this Hell of lobotomized thinking in which they live?
I mean, if my clitoris doesn’t first?
This was another gem – along with heating hash into a spoon like smack to smoke – that at least 70% (rough estimate with zero statistical tools employed; but I’m pretty intuitive, so just go with it) people replied to with non-sarcastic defensive information on how healthy self-sexing is. Oh, would that I were born with enough palms to blanket my face in times like these. Instead, however, I’ll try to have compassion for the ignorant by shining more than just the obvious “sex is good for you says science” light on it – and sharing this fun little fact I just heard on Huffington. It’s actually super obvious, but it’s one of those things that just made me have a head-cock-n-look-skyward aha moment. And that’s this: The clitoris is the only organ on any human body designed only for pleasure. The only one. Pleasure. And nothing else. And I get to have one. Men piddle outta their pipe in addition to sexing with it. And the burrow our walnutty G-button lives in, also serves as a collective chute for both babies and didn’t-have-a-baby-this-month. All of them serve multi-functions. But not the clit. Like a self-indulgent hairless heiress, the clitoris demands not to be bothered unless you plan to party. Let her sleep till noon unless entertainment is imminent. However, if you do invite her out, she can carry on for hours. Imagine. A life of nothing but pleasure and sleep. Almost makes me wish I were my own – though it is kind of a singular, oblivious, and narrow-minded way to go through life. But I suppose it’s no more narrow-minded than the zealots taking this new page I’m currently making an altar to, seriously.
Either way, I don’t think the Prime Mover would’ve installed bliss bells on our dirty doors if he didn’t want ’em rung.
Especially when the result would be worth earning that FamGuy karate assault each time.
In fact – as it’s the only human structure meant only for pleasure – it’s even worth PMS.
Oh, great.
Now I’m not even sure if I’m being sarcastic or not anymore.