Re: An Open Letter to the FDA or Whoeverthehell

1

Vibrators have warning labels?

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2

You should never say "my leg": it's "a leg."

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3

(Psst, gswift.)

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4

Note that I had absolutely no trouble finding that with google.

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5

Vibrators have warning labels?

No, legs do.

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6

damnit, all the more reason to respect and feed the trolls. Get your damn hospitality together.

Help, help, I'm being oppressed.

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7

Huh. I bet you never use a vibrator to rub the back of your neck while your head lolls back and you look all languid and satisfied either, like it shows on the box.

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8

Oh, LB, the interest you show can't be hidden anymore...be careful for I can't let my right wing friends know.

don't, don't you want me

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9

You're playing the 'bad '80s video' game now?

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10

I suspect that 'unexplained calf pain' should be understood as 'potential blood clot', and that's why vibrators shouldn't be used on them.

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11

That's exactly right -- the silly bit is the assumption that people are buying vibrators to massage sore muscles. (Oh, I suppose somebody must be -- I just figure there's not much need for the warning on the box of the ones shaped like pink torpedoes.)

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12

the silly bit is the assumption that people are buying vibrators to massage sore muscles.

They're not? But my wife told me . . . .

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13

I remember finding my mother's vibrator as a child and asking her what it was. (This was unmistakably phallic, a meaty cylinder of rubber manhood, so there is no question as to its intended use.) I presume a good mother would have told her son "it's nothing! go play with your toys!" and had that be the end of the matter, but my mother, hoping to preserve some sort of facade, instead told me it was for massaging your neck and back muscles, "like this" she said as she proceeded to demo on me. "Oh, that feels good", said I, innocent child that I was. Indeed it did feel good, so at my request we repeated the interaction time and again thereafter.

Sooner or later I grew up and discovered to my horror the real purpose of these devil-instruments. I lived in denial for a while ("some people may use them for that, but my mom actually uses them for massage. No, really.") Poor, poor innocence. Eventually I gave up this silly defense mechanism and admitted the truth to myself; lasting trauma ensued.

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14

13 explains so much....

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15

It's not that someone might be buying them for that purpose, it's that, having once bought one, someone might think, well, I have this muscle soreness, so why not? And probably to prevent slippery marketing tactics such as emplozed bz the hello kitty massager.

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16

Also, did anyone else think the link to the Fight Club quotes was completely random? What's the connection that I'm missing?

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17

16 - Airport Security Officer: it's a dildo. Of course it's company policy never to imply ownership in the event of a dildo... always use the indefinite article a dildo, never your dildo.

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18

Never say the dildo turned itself on.

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19

17 - Good lord I can be stupid. I read that quote several times and couldn't figure out the connection you were making. I get it now.

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20

I've invented a cell phone vibrator. You'd never lose it and no one would ever borrow it.

Is that an old joke?

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21

My very first ever vibrator was bought for me by this boy I had this weird only half expressed kind of sexual connection with while his girlfriend was away in France. It was pink and lame and made me feel numb. But that's not the point of this story. The point is that I was living with Clementine's rather prim, WASPish parents at the time, so imagine my chagrin when the dryer that was running during dinner stopped, and C's mom asked, "What's that sound?" There was something of a low thunder emanating from my bedroom. At first I couldn't believe that my little pink vibe was making all that noise, but I knew it was a possibility, so I tried to casually get up to investigate, but both of her parents followed rght behind me. The rumbling of the dryer had created vibrations through the wall that had knocked my vibrator over and turned it on, and it was in turn clattering on a wooden shelf, and the vibrating of the shelf echoed into the hollow wall and created the thundering sound. Rather casually, I reached beneath my clothing to turn it off without revealing it and said, "Oh, that's my back massager. It must have turned itself on." But the hysterical giggles I collapsed into a moment later ruined my until then artful handling of the situation.

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