I keep running into those moments. You know the ones. The kind of things that make you feel like you’re the most permissive libertine who ever walked the earth. Three in a row, today, and still counting.
So, my day began with co-worker complaining about the parental controls on her computer. It seems that 10 year old granddaughter found a joke. And actually, it’s kinda a funny joke.
A priest goes over to an elderly parishioner’s home. They go into the living room to talk, and he can’t help but notice… There is a crystal bowl on her organ, and floating in the crystal bowl is a condom. Well, it takes him most of the visit to find the courage, but as he’s leaving, he very delicately brings up the topic. What do you have in this bowl? he asks. And the elderly woman replies, Oh, it’s the most wonderful thing. You place it on your organ to prevent disease, and it works! I haven’t been sick all winter.
The woman I work with was not amused. And she didn’t want to explain that to a ten year old!
I had to ask which word the kid was having trouble with. Condom or Organ? And either way, I guess I don’t see the problem. She thinks the problem was “organ.” So, tell her it’s another word for penis, says I.
The shocked silence that followed was so loud, even I couldn’t miss it. She does know they have penises, doesn’t she? Well, yes, but–
Nope. I’m a hippie. Apparently, there’s a quota of body-part-words children are allowed to learn, and sorry, kid. You’ve hit it.
I ran into a random vending machine in the bathroom conversation. The little girl was asking what the vending machine was for. And the mother was dodging the question, as if her life depended on it.
But what’s in it?
Something for grownups.
Sudden and obvious interest. What?
I know, but what?
A single moment of panic, as the mother looks for any available exit, and then realizes that even chewing her own arm off won’t get her out of this one. Then: I DON’T KNOW!!
(BTW: Frantic lobbying for condom machines in every bathroom in the world goes here. ‘Cause I’m a hippie.)
I think I’ll always have trouble with the idea of information as taboo. Problems with the idea that knowledge about something results in people doing that thing. After all, I have fairly detailed information about bowel re-sectioning,but I’ve never felt the need to whip out a knife and try it at home.