Suicide (E)-Mission

Sperm cells of the world, listen up. Allow me a moment of your time. I would not intrude on your busy migration schedule unless it was very important. Might I appeal to your sense of decency before your mob makes that collective run for the big fleshy globule in which you seek to gain admittance?

I hate to put an unfair burden on you tiny swimmers, but science has proven that this whole thing starts with you and so I’m going right for the root of the problem. I never like to bear bad news, but almost none of you will make it into your intended destination, the waiting female egg. To use a rather morbid joke, it is a suicide emission for all but one intrepid gamete. Cheer up though. For most of you the work will be over. Afterwards you can kick back and relax, knowing that nothing more is expected of you. It’s Miller Time, as we say here on the outside.

Now, since that is the case, let me explain that we’ve got a little problem on our side of the “fence.” While you may think it is over and done with once you embed yourselves in that fleshy egg and start dividing and multiplying like a frantic mathematician, for us the problem may only be beginning. As you know, traffic is a nuisance. I need only to cite the fact that there are 250,000,000 of you little tadpoles swimming for your lives every time you are unleashed up a rather narrow birth canal and into an even narrower fallopian tube. We fully formed humans have traffic too, and believe me it is just as bad on the outside and getting worse.

I live in a city called Atlanta, but it might as well be anywhere else. New York. Los Angeles. Chicago. Miami. You get the picture. You could end up in any one of these places as well and when you do you will be surrounded by a lot of people that were once little sperm like yourself. You may find too, much to your horror and dismay, that a lot of them are as crazy as shit-house rats and don’t even want to be here.

For example in my town, a few weeks ago, a tiny teaspoon of ejaculate that over the course of many years morphed into a chronically unstable woman drove her car straight into oncoming traffic on an extremely busy highway because she wanted to shut her brain off. You can imagine the mess she created.

A few months ago a mentally unstable airline pilot crashed an enormous plane because he wanted to shut his brain off, a brain that was so sick that it felt the need to take 200 or so other people along with him. He left nothing but a recording of eerily controlled breathing. I can’t make this stuff up.

A few years ago two tablespoons of deluded little puddles of protein eventually set off big bombs during a marathon. You little fellows would like marathons. It is a competition that is right up your alley. There is only one winner, but all involved can take great pride in the accomplishment. Those two tiny puddles of protein that set off the bombs are pretty much dead now, one way or another, which would have been better had it happened before they got the bombing idea.

Most recently, a frail, deluded man-child bearing a striking resemblance to an enormous sperm cell (look at yourselves in the mirror and then magnify that by a trillion trillion) killed eight innocent people at a church because his meager brain was so totally confused, impotent and angry. How ironic, considering how much of a rush his tiny sperm cell must’ve been in as it raced up the birth canal twenty years ago.

I could go on, but I think you get the picture. All of these confused, violent humans were once little versions of you guys swimming as fast as they could in order to fertilize an egg and become a person. Needless to say these people have been a complete waste of perfectly good ejaculate. I’m sure with almost a quarter of a billion other candidates, we could’ve had a better result. So, tiny sperm cells, we need your help. If you would be so kind as to identify, profile if you will, certain potentially problematic swimmers in your group, you’d really be saving all the rest of us a whole lot of grief. We need innovators and visionaries. We need resourceful and resilient intelligence. We don’t need angry little creeps. We don’t need ruthless selfishness.

So…if you notice any of your fellow spermatozoa bragging about their superior genetic information while acting all lazy and dopey, keep an eye on them. If any of them wet their bed, or try to start fires, or torture small animals, or whatever the microcellular equivalent of all that is, you need to run interference. In addition be on the lookout for plotters, malcontents, sociopaths, abusers, misogynists, bigots, sadists, bullies and xenophobes. If you notice a sperm with anger issues, a sperm that has bouts of mania followed by periods of depression, a sperm that shows tendencies toward any type of violence whatsoever, then it is time to form a blockade. What I’m saying is keep an eye out for the troublemakers. Any gamete trying to sabotage the pipes down there–epididymis, cremasters–is just going to make a big old shit-stinking mess of the bigger world in the ensuing decades if they happen to escape. Inguinal hernias don’t just happen. It means you’ve got some undesirables trying to tear the place down. Today’s warped urethra is tomorrow’s mass murder.

Furthermore, any of these little buggers seem too eager, like they’ve got an agenda, and the rest of you are going to have to take action. You put them in the back of the line with some LeBeau-style zone blitz to confuse and neutralize them. I’m no microbiologist. You guys work it out. Today’s premature ejaculation is tomorrow’s terror plot.

With any luck the bad ones will be reincarnated as something other than a human. Maybe they can come back as a pine cone, something in which very little is expected of them. They can just lay around in the grass and that is that. How nice does that sound? I’m almost jealous. Once the offending gamete is identified, you may want to have some faction just dive bomb the little miscreant. Knock him silly until his disorientation is so severe he’d be lucky to locate his own tail. A punch drunk sperm cell will probably just shuffle off in any old direction like the town drunk. It is important to buy yourselves a little time. Whichever one of you is lucky enough to form into a human will be extremely grateful you did.

Happy Fourth of July

More Alembics to come.

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