First, I’d like to thank you all for commenting and voting on yesterday’s post. I really appreciate the feedback. If you haven’t read it yet, give it a shot: I’d love to hear your take.
Now for today’s post: Ginger Sperm.
Some of you may have heard by now (after all, it’s pressing news) that red-headed sperm donors are now being turned away from the world’s largest sperm bank, Ole Schou. Apparently the demand simply isn’t high enough so the bank isn’t taking offers for ginger juice. There are some obvious jokes to be made here: Eric Cartman is winning, something about red fiery sperm being to much to handle, and (as jakennicksmomma aptly noted after I tweeted the story), the mention a certain article made regarding sperm selling like “hot cakes” is ripe for comedy and disgust.
But I’d like to focus on a heavier matter weighing on me: How could you not like redheads?!
My entire life I’ve wanted to be a hardcore redhead. The flaming hair, the pale skin, the freckles spreading over the body like an adorable infection. I dyed my hair red for a very long time, convinced that it automatically made me more attractive. Because it did. Redheaded women are absolutely fantastic. Exhibit A: Christina Hendricks.
I’m sorry I didn’t insert an actual picture of her. I was afraid her ridiculous rack would shoot out of the page and smack you in the face.
Exhibit B: Jessica Rabbit (same concern).
Now don’t get me wrong: some redheaded genetics can get funky. Sometimes you end up with a gnarly-toothed, patchy-faced little hellion, but isn’t that a risk we take with every procreation?
I need to do something to address this issue – a call to action of some sort. We can’t possibly have redheaded men running around thinking their sperm is only good in Ireland. Their sperm is good everywhere. Because everywhere it goes, it brings the hope of another sultry vixen or fair Irish maiden or a wood nymph.
I suppose I shouldn’t just focus on the reds of the female persuasion, but it really does build a better case than redheaded men. It’s rare that I find myself attracted to a redheaded man. Prince Harry was cute for a while, but he’s really more of a blonde these days. And then what – the Weasleys? I’m not sure I’d be building much of a following for my cause.
Perhaps I’m looking at this the wrong way. If redheaded sperm lead to redheaded vixens, then I suppose it’s okay that folks aren’t willing to invest in sultry hotness continuing to breed in the human race. Because with less vixens comes less overall stress about my not stacking up to the Christina Hendricks’ of the world. There will be fewer of her.
Seriously, are her boobs even possible?
So here’s to the slow phasing out of those of the redheaded persuasion. You were good while you lasted, gingers. And let it be known that I was one of your few lone supporters during your stay with the human race. In fact, one of the reasons I’m with Dave is because he has a bright, brazen red in his beard and I have a lot of hopes tied up in that for him to provide me with beautiful redheaded hellions.
Eureka! Yes – I alone shall carry the ginger torch! I’ll pop out redheaded boys by the dozen. And when you realize that no fiery red sperm is to be found but in Ireland, I will be your only domestic provider of redheaded glory.
That’s right – my boys will carry within them the hope for the ginger race.
I knew I had a high calling on this earth. ♣