TED BERG: I’m not going to lie: I’ve always been a bit intrigued by sperm banks. I mean, they pay you… for that?
Apparently. And I’m not sure exactly what the qualifications are, nor whether I meet them, but I can guarantee you this much: I’ve got no ethical hangups about the ramifications of donating my seed to a sperm bank. Zero. I’m no Kirk Maxey.
The way I see it, somebody’s going to father all those children, and it might as well be me. I’d much rather there be 400 little mes running around than 400 little versions of that asshole from work.
This guy Maxey’s bitching because he’s got 400 kids he didn’t know about? Whatever, dude. Shouldn’t have donated your sperm. I’d be glad to have a small army of offspring, going forth and perpetuating my genes, doing right by my ancestors in the Darwinian sense. That’s a whole lot of reproducing for not a lot of work, plus the ultimate upside is no one’s even expecting me to raise the bastards.
Am I worried about sending forth my children, without my guidance, to be raised by incompetent parents, as Howard suggested on Tuesday’s Perpetual Post Radio? Mildly. But nature, when your nature is as awesome as mine, can trump nature, and I’m confident that my stock could triumph over parental adversity and grow into productive, reproductive adults without much effort.
Am I at all concerned that, as Zoe suggested, a concentration of my half-related offspring living in the same area might lead to some of them unknowingly mating? Hah! That’s just the next step toward creating a whole new subspecies consisting entirely of my inbred progeny. To be honest, it would really save me a lot of work.
I figure I’m a reasonably smart dude, I can play a couple instruments and I have a great head of hair, so that’s got to make my semen worth something to a couple hundred eager couples. On the other hand, I haven’t exactly been kind to my body, plus I’ve got multiple auto-immune diseases, plus I’ve got a brutal family history of cancer, stroke and heart disease. But on the other hand, you should see my hair.
DAVE TOMAR: I admit, the idea of a super-army of Ted Bergs is extremely compelling. I guess I’m just worried that my inbred mutant progeny could be exploited for the purposes of evil. I’m pretty sure that’s how they make Mouseketeers. There are like 60 Jonas Brothers and they just replace them whenever one gets ugly, overdoses on Meth or runs off to join a Satanic cult. I wouldn’t want my genetic stamp on that kind of putrescent human misery.
But this is only secondary to my greater reservation, which is a relative interest in masturbating only in the comfort of my own home. For one thing, I’ve never been anywhere besides my bathroom that has floor and ceiling mirrors. Just between me and you, this is really the most psychedelic way to see your own grundle.
It’s not just that though. It’s the austerity and the clinical nature of the whole thing that gets me. I mean, rubbing one out in a bank is one thing, but in a medical facility? It just seems wrong. There are better ways to get paid for doing this where you never have to leave the front seat of your car.
Also, for my purposes, I generally find the typical sperm bank media collection to be intensely lacking. I don’t want to get into a whole psychoanalytical thing about this but I do have certain needs. I didn’t have a lock on my door as a child so my best opportunities for self-exploration invariably came when I stayed home ‘sick’ from school.
I grew up wanking it to afternoon classics like Mr. Belvedere, What’s Happenin’? and The Price is Right! Honestly, I don’t think I can even get it up if I’m not invited to “Come on Down.” And then of course, those Sally Struthers earn-your-degree-at-home commercials would come on and it would be like your mom knocking on the door. You manage to finish, but it’s a half-mast distracted finish mixed with no small amount of Freudian guilt and maybe the fleeting impulse to sign up for a home gun repair course.
Without that sensation, I’m as flaccid as a priest at the Playboy Mansion. So with respect to sperm banking, I’d be flattered at the invitation but I would just as soon decline. My idle seed is destined for tissue wads.