You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.™
Female Viagra.
It’s the little pink pill.
It’s a controversial drug designed to treat low sexual desire in women.
Is it the antidote to “I have a headache?” Will it light the fuse to sexual dynamite in the bedroom?
The elixir of choice use to be red wine or a shot of Yaegermeister.
Now it’s something called Flibanserin.
Sounds more like a ski run at the Matahorn than a sex pill.
Viagra, the little blue pill, increases blood to a man’s nether region. It is like a pulmonary catalytic converter churning a cold engine pumping fresh oil into the man pistons and gorging the male spirit with a viscosity not before realized.
The little pink pill doesn’t work that directly.
If it did, it would be inserted into said region and the liberation of desires would be immediate.
But like so many things with the fairer sex, nothing is simple, nothing is direct, nothing is scripted according to plan.
Women are complicated shades of sunlight, mixed with pronounced rumblings of unexplainable thunder.
That means they are everything all the time and there is no way to gauge when everything all the time is going to rear its ugly head.
While Viagra heads south, the little pink pill heads north, sending drugs to infiltrate a woman’s brain.
I’m not sure what the drug does once inside a woman’s head.
It probably joins a book club and drinks red wine for a while.
Maybe it matches wall paper and couch cushions.
Perhaps it makes their fat, hairy husbands look like Tom Cruise.
Perhaps it hypnotizes them into thinking their partner’s sex organ is a salami hanging in a Brooklyn butcher shop.
I really don’t know. But studies say it increases a woman’s desire.
I think a wall poster of Channing Tatum will do that.
It’s controversial and there are health concerns.
Men have known this for years.
Viagra can give men an erection for 4 hours and send them to a hospital where they will be embarrassed forever.
“Would the guy with the stiff Johnson go to exam room 9 please.”
What are the side effects of the pink pill?
Perhaps a woman will finish first for a change. Maybe she’ll see images of unicorns and princess hats.
More study is required.
Viagra is a force. It is world-wide. It is part of the universal lexicon. Viagra has a theme song and an advertising campaign that runs incessantly on any given football Sunday.
You know the ad: The mid-life cowboy on the Harley taking charge of his life. He’s a smiling, stubble faced man, rolling down the road. He’s in control of his own sexual universe and confident enough to stop at the local diner and order a cup of coffee knowing his erection is good for 4 hours. His landscape is blue and he’s got the world by the proverbial balls.
What would the little pink pill look like on film in a 30 second ad?
A woman runs through a field of pansies. She is wearing a long scarf that suggestively flows around her supple bosoms. She is in slow motion, prancing like a ballerina. Behind her is a setting son of pulsing, rhythmic energy. She is singing as she runs, each octave more pronounced, more sharp than the next. Then the spot ends in a tidal wave of pink that floods the screen.
Wow. Anyone got a cigarette.
And I don’t even smoke.
Whooooo!
The little pink pill. A sensation of satisfaction.
Will it work? Will women take over the bedrooms of this world like never before?
Marriages could be saved, relationships rescued.
What happens when blue pill and pink pill join forces.
A neutron burst of purple passion.
What will this new generation of pharmaceutical sexuality look like?
A porno film or sexual train wreck.
Stay tuned. This promises to be interesting.
Life’s Crazy™