Impotence: The Limp Canary in the Mine

Turn on your television. Just for a moment. Leave it on any channel for, say, 10 minutes. Notice anything odd? Any of the ads surprise you? No, not the ones for "green" cars that are miraculously good for the plants and animals (what the fuck is a green car? A green car! Jesus, we're stupid). And not the ones for this or that so-called food that exhausts your intestines with an unsettling vigor. No, I mean the ones — and there are multiple products — that help limp dicks get it up.

What the fucking fuck? What is wrong with these people? Why are these ads so prevalent? Because we are an impotent fucking culture, literally. Our hard ons are being systematically bred out of us.

We're made to sit very, very still for 10 hours a day in front of a glowing screen, ensuring our bodies and brains atrophy. In order to maintain our attention on said screen, we get Starfucked with cafe latte after cafe latte — which is to say, we drown our coffee in loads of fat and antibiotics which drain our bodies further of any whiff of vitality.

When we finally get home, there is no respite from the fray. We are greeted by our deranged spouse who has had the identical day to yourself because, these daze, everyone works — and is proud of it! the madness of it all! And then come the even more deranged children who have been forced to memorize idiotic nonsense while they sat in their chairs for 8 hours — why are they sitting? They're kids, for fucks sake, they should be playing with mud.

But you know what? Your day ain't even over yet, bud. You can't just kick back, smoke a joint, and sully the ass of your sweet wife. Nope. Thanks to technology, you are always on, as they say. Your Crackberry whines and wheezes, your computer screen blinks and beckons. No doubt, there is something more important than fellatio that must — must! — be dealt with. Capitalism knows no bounds.

Come sleep, sleep doesn't come. You turn to your wife for a little nooky to help usher slumber but she's dead asleep, 10 mgs of Ambien pumping through her lifeless body. And so you follow suit, only now you have to take 20 mgs.

You wake to the same nonsense as everyone readies themselves for another day of sitting still and being inundated with shitty food and asshole co-workers.

And soon you begin noticing that you're not having any morning wood. Everyday of your life, you woke up with a nice juicy hard on. Now it comes less and less. Maybe I'm getting older, you think to yourself. But is 38 that fucking old?

No, dick wad, you're losing your hard on. It's being bred out of you, out of us all. Sex — desire — gets in the way of capitalism, gets in the way of sitting still for 10 hours a day in front of a fucking screen, surrounded by other morons doing the exact same thing. So no wood for you. No wood for any of us.

Sure, they pump porn down the pipe to make us think our lives are still sexual, that our bodies are still sexual. And so we sit even longer in front of the fucking screen, desperately tugging our half-limp cocks to another anal cum shot video and with each stroke, your hard on wanes just a tad more.

Still, we have to breed. We must have workers. Oh, but our cocks don't work. Enter Viagra. We need a goddamn fucking pill to get it up. And not only is there no shame in it, not only is it not something we try to keep quiet, we broadcast it far and wide on every fucking tv show.

The signs are not subtle. We sent the canary down the mine and it came back, sure, but it came back with a limp fucking dick. And we're too fucking impotent to do anything about it.