Mmmmmm, mashed potatoes.

Well I suppose there are two aspects to sex, and one of course is to continue the species, and the other is that it is fun.  Well it has to be fun to get us to do it.  Up until humans, if you subscribe to the theory, as some do, though they are wrong, that the sole purpose of millions of years of evolution was to produce that apple of God's eye, the human natural, that whole reproduction thing was resolved by having the females go into heat.  As for the males one would suppose they were always ready, but they never got interested until the female went into heat.

As a city boy, I would have to lean on Beagles' barnyard expertise on as to whether or not animals enjoy having sex.  The only experience I have with this is having a female cat who went into heat, seven litters worth.  She certainly seemed amorous, but I have to tell you, it didn't look like she was having fun.

Nevertheless it is certainly an effective tool, and I guess it has the added feature of making sure that babies were made at the right time of year.

But for some reason that all went out the window when it came to the apple of God's eye.  Actually there are also those sex maniac chimps, but I believe they are not a step on the way to us, but rather a different path taken by the ape from which we both spring, but I'm not in the mood for wiking around this morning.

Well you wonder why Mother Nature didn't give us that going into heat thing.  It would make it easier for those of us who would like to solve the problem of too many babies.  Whenever the heat time came we could just send off the women to some island vacation, and then who knows what they would do there, but we men could satisfy ourselves by humping each other's legs.  Not a very tidy solution, but maybe it is so crazy that it just might work.

Then there is that other solution.  You never spent any time in a college dorm, but I imagine it was common knowledge in the army mess halls, and here I refer to saltpeter in the mashed potatoes.  Of course you could always skip the mashed potatoes, but that little volcano with the pat of butter swimming in that pool of rich brown gravy measured against the chance of any of us of actually getting any kept us licking our plates.

The thing is, the pill is right there, already invented, this puberty delay thing in the arm that you have to get permission to turn on, we don't have anything invented like that, and it's kind of Rube Goldberg, and it would really mess up society, probably worse than having a lot of babies.  But you seem to be preoccupied with this idea that the time spent thinking about sex would automatically be redirected into worthwhile pursuits, and I am not buying that at all.

And I was going to say that if sex was easy as asking the girl next door what she is doing tonight, then maybe we wouldn't be thinking about it all the time, but I'm not sure if that is true.