Whizzbang aka Dumbstruck the Wonder Pup and I try to take a walk to the park every day. She gets to sniff around and I get outside. The park is a few blocks away and we pass the apartment complex and the undeveloped future apartment complex along the way.
A week or so I spied what appeared to be a condom wrapper slightly torn with the inside goodness limply hanging out. One gets to think when one walks and I began thinking why that particular item would be sitting there, unused, partially torn and abandoned. After I got over my momentary sadness at, well, the sadness of it all, I started thinking what could have happened to bring that little gold wrapper of hope to the edge of a sidewalk, forlornly torn, and forever unrolled.
But first lets examine the "thing itself", a phrase we faux philosophers use to objectify our area of study. The thing itself is a condom, or if you prefer: bag, happy-hat, daddy-stopper, jimmy or jimmy cap, sheath, rubber, and raincoat. They are not expensive but they are not cheap. This particular brand, a Trojan Magnum, costs somewhere around 90 cents and should not be confused with those you can buy for a quarter in seedier restrooms. This is a high-end thing just to be tossed aside, to be scuttled and left to nature and perhaps the blade of a mower.
Of course, that 90 cent purchase depends on your particular driving habits. Maybe a 17 year old wouldn't get as much bang for the buck as a 50 year old. Youthful exhuberance and experience is crucial for safe and fulfilling driving. Naturally, your two-time vasectomized blog writer isn't fully aware of all the ins-and-outs of these vulcanized delivery systems, but maybe with a more objective study we can make sense of it and maybe determine why it landed in this spot, unused, unwanted, and apparently, unneeded.
What are the possibilities?
- too big
- too small
- owner couldn't read instructions
- owner could read instructions but didn't understand
- poked hole in with teeth when trying to get it out of package (see above)
- she said she wanted children
- he said he might want children...depending on what happens
- a seagull at the Tradewinds Resort swooped down and grabbed a shiny gold thing on the outside patio table of a Canadian tourist hoping for a beach not infested by the Red Tide, sunshine, warmth and a receptive wife
- dog ate the homework and hidden condom in the backpack
- always take the condom out of your pocket before Mom washes your jeans
- kid thought it was chocolate and ended up with a stupid balloon
Usually in cases like this I refer to good old Billy, that famous Friar of the village of Ockham, who postulated that slicing away all the assumptions and could'as and would'as will best give you the answer. Nowadays we refer to him as William of Ockham, or more to the point, Occam's Razor. He said the simplest answer is usually the right one.
So what is the answer to this cosmic question? Quite simply: Boy likes girl. Girl likes boy. Boy wants to shag girl. Boy makes reservations at the Tradewinds to impress girl and get it on with her. Boy didn't read instructions and bites into rubber. Girl says I don't want kids. Boy says he'll go along with whatever she wants. Girl meanwhile says its too small. Boy says its too big. Seagull swoops down and grabs shiny gold package. Drops it just north of Sinkhole Estates where Mike and Whizzbang take their walks. Kid walks home from school and sees what looks like chocolate and puts it in his pocket. Kid takes it out, dog grabs its chews on it while Mom walks in to get dirty laundry and puts it back into his pocket. He takes his pants off to get washed and Mom finds pack and then gives her son the eternal "what for" for having it and wait till your Dad gets home young man. Boy still likes girl back at the Tradewinds and for her part, like him, too. The rest we can imagine. Yep. That's exactly what happened. Thanks Mr. Occam.
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