With three of my spawn already roaming the Earth, the Wife and I have discussed more permanent methods of contraception, particularly those aimed south of my navel. The idea of vasectomy is not particularly appealing, but given the reports from cousins, friends, and co-workers who have all had it done have been overwhelmingly positive, it’s the most likely route we’ll be taking.
Today I read about a new, reversible vasectomy method under development. The concept is simple: the doc installs a radio-controlled valve that opens and closes to allow or prevent the passage of sperm from the testes. One click you’re shooting blanks, the next you’re locked and loaded.
Not a bad idea in principle, but I’m not convinced remote-controlled genitalia is such a swell idea. In particular, I’m not sure I want to knock my wife up after the neighbor opens his garage door. The article says the remotes are keyed to the valve, but that’s what they say about garage door remotes. Not to mention doorbells; a past neighbor and I drove each other nuts one month because both of us chose the same jumper configuration on our wireless remotes. If the remote’s packing RSA encryption, maybe I’ll feel a little more comfortable, but otherwise they can pound sand.
Codes aside, do I really want someone else in control of my nads? “Hey Doc, the wife and I are thinking we’d like another shot at twins. Can I borrow my clicker?”
What if the doctor’s office burns to the ground? What if some ditzy nurse loses the database of which remote belongs to which sack? What if some prankster got a hold of my clicker, or worse, held my clicker for ransom?
“Drop $20,000 in a paper bag under the 28th Street bridge at midnight or I open the floodgates!”
I don’t know about you, but $20k to avoid another few years of diapers and another $100,000 or so to raise a child to age 18 is probably worth it. Not to mention getting control of one’s manhood back.
Good luck with that experiment, doc, but I think I’ll take a pass. The Earth needs no further fruit from my loins, and I can live with 24 hours of feeling like I just took a nutshot if it means my wife won’t have to get gutted.
I’d also rather deal with a little snip than having to cook my boys once a month. Yow…