Control contraceptives… with a clicker!


A remote control kid-preventer?

(No, darling. Birth halting rules are before or during. After is generally frowned upon.)

Mhmm. What you do is implant this device in your arm, tummy, or butt meat. Unlike a similar, current toothpick-esque implant that you can put under your skin for three years, this one’s an actual chip with Levanorgestrel – the same hormone you’d get orally in most birth control pills. The way it works, though, is kinda weird. The stuff’s stuck in an air tight seal, covered with platinum and titanium – which then dissolve after the impulse of an electrical signal. And you can set the ball rolling with a simple remote.

And while we won’t be able to control life with a clicker till probably a year or so (they’re still researching it), I’mma go ahead and say I’d just feel far too bionic-boning woman with all those alloys and currents up in my flesh for sexy time purposes.


I’mma pass on this one.

However, I know someone who might’ve found this pretty useful when she turned her stepmom’s diaphragm into swiss cheese at age ten in order to get a baby sister (Hi, you know who you are.) And that little anecdote also makes me wonder how many kids (who can use any new Apple device better than I can use my own iphone) might uncover this remote and do some life inducing damage. On the other hand, I suppose it’d be a cute (and quasi-weird?) way for parents to involve their old and boring kids in the process of “ordering” a new one from the stork like some OnDemand feature. Ya know, so they don’t feel less important when the new baby comes around and say things like this quote which is as timeless as it is eloquent:


-My sister. The day I was born.

Also, this will be good for the whorey collegiates finally free of parental tyranny and high schoolers who like to maintain a happy medium between being slutty and qualifying for Teen Mom.

Even so, remember ladies: pill-free Apri sounds great and all, but don’t eschew your latex barriers.

‘cause we can’t clap-on-clap-off the clap.

Not yet at least.

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