Comments on: Where is modern science?! http://www.ewav.com/2005/09/01/where-is-modern-science/ We put the naked pontificating in clog dancing. Fri, 04 Jul 2008 17:55:48 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.5.1 By: Scott Christensen http://www.ewav.com/2005/09/01/where-is-modern-science/#comment-73 Scott Christensen Sun, 04 Sep 2005 22:21:13 +0000 http://www.ewav.com/ncd/2005/09/01/where-is-modern-science/#comment-73 I learned something today. Thank Michael! The British have tiny dicks. I guess that's why they were so violent during the 1800s. A typical small man reaction. I learned something today. Thank Michael! The British have tiny dicks. I guess that’s why they were so violent during the 1800s. A typical small man reaction.

]]> By: msf http://www.ewav.com/2005/09/01/where-is-modern-science/#comment-71 msf Fri, 02 Sep 2005 07:50:36 +0000 http://www.ewav.com/ncd/2005/09/01/where-is-modern-science/#comment-71 I said "fucking diseases". Heh heh. I said “fucking diseases”. Heh heh.

]]> By: msf http://www.ewav.com/2005/09/01/where-is-modern-science/#comment-70 msf Fri, 02 Sep 2005 07:49:50 +0000 http://www.ewav.com/ncd/2005/09/01/where-is-modern-science/#comment-70 Amen, brother. Hate the bloody things - they just obliterate performance, not even to mention spontaneity. But it's really hard (erm, difficult) to be a successful libertine without them. One thing I've found that helps is I've started buying the larger ones. Now, I don't want to stand up here in front of a billion web surfers and claim I'm extraordinarily well endowed or anything, but I will just say that I find the larger ones easier to deal with. [Interesting side note - they don't sell them in Britain, as far as I can tell. This led to a very un-British moment of vocal frustration, when I was fruitlessly scanning like my ninth condom aisle for Trojan Magnums, and I exclaimed - aloud - "Jesus Christ, doesn't anybody have a big dick in this country?!"] The real solution, of course, is curing, once and for all, these fucking diseases. We've already got decent birth control - which a "French letter" is not - and which is a huge step. It was only a generation or two ago when having sex basically meant procreating. Can you imagine that? In another generation of so we'll look back similarly horrified at the time when having sex basically meant significant risk of catching some horrifying disease. In'shallah. Oh, do you know the old comedy sketch, where the guy comes out of the clinic with his arms raised in triumph, gleefully shouting, "Syphillis! I got SYPHILLIS!" (Because, if you don't get the joke, that one is cureable. Which, importantly, it didn't used to be.) I've had a couple of close calls myself - really, it's a bloody miracle I've gotten this far with my sexual health intact . . . and that's probably all the billion web surfers need to know for today . . . Amen, brother. Hate the bloody things - they just obliterate performance, not even to mention spontaneity. But it’s really hard (erm, difficult) to be a successful libertine without them. One thing I’ve found that helps is I’ve started buying the larger ones. Now, I don’t want to stand up here in front of a billion web surfers and claim I’m extraordinarily well endowed or anything, but I will just say that I find the larger ones easier to deal with. [Interesting side note - they don't sell them in Britain, as far as I can tell. This led to a very un-British moment of vocal frustration, when I was fruitlessly scanning like my ninth condom aisle for Trojan Magnums, and I exclaimed - aloud - "Jesus Christ, doesn't anybody have a big dick in this country?!"]

The real solution, of course, is curing, once and for all, these fucking diseases. We’ve already got decent birth control - which a “French letter” is not - and which is a huge step. It was only a generation or two ago when having sex basically meant procreating. Can you imagine that? In another generation of so we’ll look back similarly horrified at the time when having sex basically meant significant risk of catching some horrifying disease. In’shallah.

Oh, do you know the old comedy sketch, where the guy comes out of the clinic with his arms raised in triumph, gleefully shouting, “Syphillis! I got SYPHILLIS!” (Because, if you don’t get the joke, that one is cureable. Which, importantly, it didn’t used to be.) I’ve had a couple of close calls myself - really, it’s a bloody miracle I’ve gotten this far with my sexual health intact . . . and that’s probably all the billion web surfers need to know for today . . .

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