It’s a Sunday morning here in Los Angeles. I think God is at the beach, because there is no bigger congregation. “O’ mighty Pacific! Let your sewage wash over me! Praise my third eye because it burns like Hell’s fire!” Start up the generator!
I must be infatuated with Hermaphrodites. I seem to reference this nature documentary weekly where Hermaphroditic sea slugs have a penis joust to see who gets to be the dude. A fascinating pants off dance off where the loser gets to crawl around the sea floor as someone’s baby’s mama. “Oh! You got me! Now where is my welfare check!” I wish I had both genitalia. I would never leave the apartment. Though, I guess that would get old at some point. “So, you’re saying you’ve never had a job?” “Not one. But I guess it’s probably time to get out there and make something of myself. You know, accomplish my dreams and what not.” “Yes, Mr. Douglas, but your eighty-four years old. Excuse me, but could you please take your hands out of your pants.” “I can’t! I’m a hermaphrodite! You need both hands.” On my tombstone it will read, “Here lies Aaron Douglas. He had to go to heaven because his hands were never idle.”
Let’s talk about the amazing Clownfish. They live a life referred to as “Sequential Hermaproditism.” This is what happens: There will be a group of, say, four Clownfish that live in a sea anemone. The biggest one is the female with the second biggest one the male. The rest are deemed to be ball-less. That is to say, they have no gonads. Scientific term, people. Now, if the female dies, the male will grow bigger and become the female and the biggest ball-less Clownfish will grow a pair. Which completely fuckin’ ruins “Finding Nemo” for me. So, Albert Brooks part should have been played by Monique and Nemo should have been played by Pee Wee Herman. And, eventually, they should have got it on! “Now I see why the call you Pee Wee! Well, get that tiny thing over here and let’s do this!” “Yes, Large Marge.” I’m disappointed in you, Pixar. You could have made a real classic.
Plants will do this as well. Usually when there isn’t a partner around for miles. For instance, Marijuana growers will plant a female-only field. They do this because the females will grow more smokable material. The female plant will start to “stress” because it isn’t being pollinated and produce a shit load of pistils, which is the smokable part. But, because of the lack of males around, a female will turn to a male like a butch lesbian at a Brownie camp. “Oh, Gawd, Margaret. All of our reproductive clocks are running out of time! What are we gonna do?!” “I have an idea. Everybody stand back! This might get messy!” “What are you doing? Do you have to fart?” “Shut up, and let me concentrate! Eerrrrrrggrghghhhhrrhhghhdooosshhh! “Hey, everybody! Margaret pushed out a penis! Yeaaaa!” “Shut up, bitch! Now go make me a sandwich.” Where there is a will, there is a gay woman who really wants a penis. Hey, Chaz Bono.
Check out this quote I found on the interweb: “Have you ever wondered why he takes on the form of a woman? According to several sources, Saturnus slash Satan is a hermaphrodite being – taking on the forms of both male and female.” Yes! Satan the shapeshifter has both a ding and a dong! Where was this information when the fear of Satan was hammered into my head by feeble-minded boy lickers! Imagine the different nightmares I could have had! AND, imagine how hard I would have tried to obey the word of God with the knowledge that not only could I burn in hell for stealing a Snickers bar from the corner store, but Satan himself would fuck me in the ass while suffocating me with his gigantic knockers! No wonder priests don’t like Satan. He has a vagina.
And what about the mythological creature Hemaphroditus? According to the Greeks, he was a strikingly handsome young boy who was attacked by a nymph named Salmacis. Salmacis was so lustful for Hermaphroditus that, during her unwanted attack, she asked the gods to never let them part. So they became one and the first Hermaphrodite ever was born. How much wine did the Greeks have to drink to come up with this one. Amazingly creative. I only wish couples would have to truly join themselves on their wedding day. For one, divorce would go down, and two, suicides would go up. So we kill overpopulation at the same time I save on my christmas shopping. “Here is your christmas gift. Go ahead and open it. Yep, it’s a rape whistle/ beer mug. Enjoy!”
It turns out there is no human that is a true hermaphrodite. These people are referred to as “intersexed.” They are ambiguous in their gender and are unable to reproduce, unlike the sea slugs. Which is disappointing. But, it’s probably best because that would be a psychological train wreck for anyone who had the power to both seed and by seeded. You would have twice the stress and pressure from both sides of the gender lollipop. “Wait, are you pregnant? You bitch/bastard! I’m pregnant! Oh, how could you, Pat. You pig/slut!” Actually, they could be asexual. The ultimate case of incest. “Wow, Robin. Your child would look just like you if it wasn’t for the extra hand growing from its cheek. High five, little Satan!”
I don’t know why, exactly, but I feel little off now. Maybe this is all a bit much for us to take in. Of course, I have spent around four hours in the hermaphrodite zone, researching and writing this thing, and you will spend around ten minutes reading or listening to it. You’re welcome. Everything I do, I do it for you. Thanks, Bryan Adams and your vagina of a song.