We’re heading into stormy seas. Turbulence, quicksand, minefields, a bear trap, a maze of mirrors. The most dangerous place in the universe for any man with half a microgram of sense: a public discussion of the anatomy in the nether regions belonging to non-men, in other words women (AAAHHH-OOOO-GAAAA!!!!! WARNING!!!! DIVE!!! DIVE!!! AND BRING ME SOME MORE EXCLAMATION POINTS!!!!!!!!)
Why are we here? Well, for some time I’ve been thoroughly annoyed by most of the commercials we see on the evening network news. These ads involve all sorts of TMI issues, or what we might also call “oh geez, do I have to watch this during dinner?” Including but unfortunately not limited to: bladder control, constipation, low testosterone, and of course erectile dysfunction.
Let’s start with that one. Did you ever notice how all the women in the ED promotions are thinner than a fly rod (no joke intended), and are smiling, dewy-eyed, laughing, and positively glowing at the merest hint of ED becoming EF? Note to the makers of these concoctions: if you’re really trying to alert users to negative consequences, just skip the “warning” about an E lasting four hours or more, which for many of us male types is actually like the green flag at Daytona. Right now, I just know there’s some dude out there who’s about to respond, “Only four hours? Last week I…”
Now: there’s also an ad for something that’s supposed to cure the post-menopausal problems that lead to the female equivalent of ED. I am absolutely not making light of this or its seriousness. But this one comes with the usual laundry list of side effects and reasons not to take it, including “if you think you’re pregnant.” Rewind. Post-menopausal and pregnant? That’s either disclaimer madness at its worst or a bad case of “Who let the intern review the copy?”
This ad also refers to “Conjugated Estrogens.” With a nod to one of my spiritual and humorical (?) mentors, Mr. Dave Barry: wouldn’t “Conjugated Estrogens” be an absolutely incredible name for a rock band? (Joke intended.)
Going by the sheer volume of such ads, you’d think the entire middle-aged population was obsessed with these ailments to the exclusion of everything else. I know these are real problems, but remember, folks: we’re actually not the first ones who’ve ever had them. Just listen to Lightnin’ Hopkins sometime back in the last century, talking about how “My Starter Won’t Start This Morning.” Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to go reset my timer for four hours and 27 minutes.