You know, this story just begs for clever things to be said about it, ranging from the cute to sarcastic, about the surgical answer to bunny Viagra. But honestly, today I don’t have the heart, which is sad because I’m sure I could normally think of an at least mildly funny thing or two to say.
I can’t make jokes about sex, of the bunny variety or not today, because I’m still too depressed and angry about the Stupak Amendment on the House health care reform bill. Because you see, when we start talking about weenies and the importance of curing erectile dysfunction (and don’t get me wrong here, my heart goes out to the guys that can’t get it up, because everyone deserves to have a decent sex life), then that inevitably makes me think of Viagra and all the jokes that go with it. And of course the cruel, ironic non-joke from several years ago when I was on a health insurance plan that made me shell an absolutely stupid amount of money out of pocket every month for my birth control pills, but would have covered my Viagra prescription if I were a man.
So yeah, it’s great. Save the weenies. The story itself is cute, funny, and honestly fascinating from the perspective of science.
But after getting punched in the face by yet another reminder that the reproductive concerns of women don’t mean – pardon the expression – dick in this country, I just can’t.