Some enterprising teenagers invented a new condom that turns different colors if you have a sexually transmitted disease. Isn’t that festive? My guess is that it is not the condom-wearer but the condomee who would insist on this particular brand. “Put this on,” he or she will say, “and let’s have a look-see before we take this sucker out for a spin.” This just builds on the natural tendency of a person about to be on the receiving end of a penis to want to check the item for odd coloration or accoutrements. One might not know what one is looking for specifically but it’s like examining leftover meat in the refrigerator. If it’s a little green or bumpy, you might want to skip it.
There are all sorts of possibilities for the condom, if you think about it. They could add a little sticky strip at the base for lice. It might turn pink for chlamydia, say. Or green for the clap, or yellow for herpes. If the condom turns black and the dick falls off altogether, you could be dealing with a zombie. If the condom bursts into song (and it’s always going to be Rock of Ages, Cleft For Me), you’ve got a Baptist on your hands. But if nothing happens (and the condom doesn’t fall off, which is a bad sign all its own), you’re good to go.
Puts me in mind of the Mood Ring. This was a cheap ring with a fake stone in it that turned colors and was supposed to reveal the mood of the wearer. If the ring turned red, the person was hot to trot. Mood rings were purchased only by girls younger than 13 who wanted any excuse to giggle and point at each other and shriek. No male ever bought such a ring. Male teenagers had a much more reliable indicator of horniness. It worked something like the buttons that pop out on your Butterball turkey when it’s ready, only, in many cases, a little larger.
There were all sorts of color-related things we were supposed to keep track of back then. The various colors of roses were all supposed to have specific meanings, and you’d better know the code before you buy flowers for someone. And there was a thing about wearing yellow on Thursdays, which meant you were–you know. I never knew, but I nodded as though I did.
If the boys’ condom invention pans out, there’s a much broader market to tap out there. They could develop party hats that turned colors. Everyone is issued a hat when they walk in the door, and folks could mingle accordingly. They could turn one color for Amway distributors. Another color for people who want to know if you’ve accepted Jesus Christ as your savior. A third for people with a phoneful of photos of babies, dogs, or vacations. And a fourth for folks who’ve had recent knee surgery.
I always feel a little like running for an exit, screaming, when someone whips out their iPhone to show me a picture of something. Invariably, it doesn't stop at one. Not only do I have trouble seeing the small screen (and don't care enough to take out my readers), but they seem to expect me to oooh and aaah over whatever I am looking at (which most times I can't even see), so I make an attempt at the appropriate sound. Usually it's a baby, and frankly, they all look alike to me. So do dogs and scenic views, for that matter. In an earlier era, these people would be inviting you over for dinner so that they could show you their slides.
Oh god. Guess what my dad did for post-dinner entertainment for our guests? Hauled out the roll-up screen and the slide projector and showed his mushroom photos, pausing appropriately between each one as he intoned the Latin name. To this day the smell of the screen–it did have a smell–brings back a wave of futility and despair.
I will never look at Butterball turkey in the same way again.
Pops out really quick, too.
I was going to ask Mr Google what a Butterball is/was, but thought I'd trawl comments first. Also, that thing about yellow Thursdays…I'm not A 'merican so I don't always know what you guys are talking about.And sometimes, that can be a good thing…I bailed out when Wiki got to the bit about criticisms. So the popping buttons are still a mystery.Oh well, Johnnies a a thing of the distant past, so it probably doesn't matter.
If the condom bursts into song (and it's always going to be Rock of Ages, Cleft For Me), you've got a Baptist on your hands.
That woke me up with a belly laugh. Off to make the coffee. Thanks.
That's what I most like to hear.
All we had in the old days was sausage casing. My how times have changed!
Made of sheep intestines, I hope?
"And a fourth for folks who've had recent knee surgery."
Or ANY kind of surgery, really. That reminds me, would you like to hear about my eye surgery AGAIN?? After talking about it for two months I was finally ready to wind down 🙂
Eye surgery. Eye surgery. Uh, no. Isn't that why we all have an extra eye?
My first thought was the mood ring, and my comment was along the same line as you took it.
Yours turned red, didn't it? You sly dog.
Jesus Christ*, I wish you'd warned me about that picture!
You're pardoned. There's really no excuse for my including it, but it WAS public domain.
What colour would your party-hat be Murr? Dedicated listeners NEED to know.
It would have to have multicolored dots. I can offend people any number of ways.
I am still trying to figure out what is in the second picture (my mind is running wild) below the soldier poster. Ummm,…I just cannot say what I think, so Murr?????
I don't know. My retinas went on strike the minute I put it in.
Looks to me like a negroid penis with herpes blisters.
Well all right, it looks like that to me too.
I third that! Just wondered if I was seeing things.
I still have a mood ring somewhere, the little instruction sheet said if the ring turned blue, the wearer was happy and serene. Every time I wore it, that ring was cobalt blue. I must find it, see if it still fits.
I wonder if mood rings ever just wrinkle.
2nd picture definitely reflects poor hygiene. Boys should be taught to remove their pants before ironing them.
There's more than one way to take the wrinkles out of pants, and boys know it.
That second picture? I saw it, but I really can't look at it long enough to figure out what it is, and I don't even want to try.
You're better off just skipping over it.
the attorneys I work for are always showing me phone photos of their kids (and videos) – I think this is the only way some of them see their kids
I hope they pay you enough for that. When I was growing up, there'd be about three photos a year of me. Of course, I was the fourth and last child, so nobody gave a shit at that point.
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