Subterranean Sex-Fiends

STEVE: Genitals: some people have them, others want to be them. For decades, scientists have found themselves utterly and sexilly distracted from their work by genitals, stimulating all attempts to further mankind to the point of flaccidity. And in spite of occasional, short-lived spasming spurts of brilliance here and there, the scientific community is otherwise quick to sleep the rest of the night without so much as a cuddle.

But what can possibly be done about genitals? Will genitals ultimately gain sentience and force the last remnants of humanity deep underground, so as to orgify itself into a new species of subterranean sex-fiends? What destiny might humanity have discovered among the stars had it not resigned itself to the erotic fate of ceaseless sexual gratification in the tacky and musky caverns and caves of the Earth’s crust while fascist genitals thrive in their futuristic dystopia powered by the heat of raw, unfettered human lust?

I have no answer to any of these and many other questions, even those wholly unrelated to fascistic, sentient genitals. But for only the cost of a private lapdance at Classy Lou’s Erotic Dancing Emporium, we might just be able to prevent the full-priced admission of humanity into a prison of our own sticky bits.

I’m Reginald J. McTicklePickle, and I really, really need money.