“When you sit on a bicycle seat, you are sitting on the artery,” researcher BUSM’s Pedram Salimpour said. “God did not mean for you to sit on a bicycle seat.”
I must have been out sick from catechism that month or may have been imprisoned during one of the church’s later inquisitions because I don’t remember that commandment. I know I missed the 11th, which was when Ronald Reagan said: “Thou shalt not savage thy fellow Republicans.” I think Reagan was actually there with Moses when that was written. I certainly don’t remember reading the 12th, “Thou shalt not sit on a bicycle seat.”
It seems more Jewish than Christian, although I can imagine both Jewish moms and Catholic moms saying, in a rather grating, nasally tone: “Jimmy. Don’t sit on that bicycle seat. You don’t know where it’s been. Here. Put these napkins over it until your grandmother can knit you a nice, embroidered slipcover.”
Not that I have a bone to pick or anything with good Dr. Salimpour, but aren’t you sitting on your artery every time you sit? I mean, I have the answer to my own question. Of course you are.
Salimpour noted: “Researchers examined cyclists who suffer from impotence and believe they know how it happens. When someone sits on a narrow seat, too much weight is borne by the perineum, the area between the anus and the scrotum in which the cavernosal artery is located.”
Cavernosal artery’s connected to the, leg bone. Leg bone’s connected to the, scrotum. Scrotum’s connected to the, you know, this reminds me of a story.
A long time ago, two boys were dilly-dallying on their way to school. They soon realized they were going to be late, late, late and took a shortcut across the big field. The first boy climbed a treacherous fence and made it over with a minimum amount of scrapes, but the second boy didn’t fare so well. He got caught plumb in the middle of a fence post and couldn’t extricate himself. So the first boy runs all the way to school, bursts in the back door panting and sprints up to the teacher. “Mrs. Wiley! Mrs. Wiley!! Me and Bobbie Joe McCallister were crossing the big field and Bobbie got his (in lieu of the word that goes here, we’ll just switch over to a few moments of Muzak: “Strangers in the night, exchanging glances. Strangers in the night, exchanging pantses …” Thank you. Back to the joke.) stuck on the post and he can’t get off!!!”
Mrs. Wiley bent over and calmly said: “Billie. We don’t say that Muzak-enducing word. It’s not polite. We say, ‘rectum.’”
“Wrecked him!?” repeated Billie. “Damn near killed him!”
Who said vaudeville’s dead?
Anyway. Boston, the School of Medicine, not the columnist, sent out a questionnaire to 1,025 runners and bicyclists, asking if they had not had an “inability to develop or maintain an erection for intercourse in the past six months.” Of those numbers, 1.1 percent of the runners reported impotence, while 4.2 percent of the cyclists said they had trouble doing the Anthony Weiner.
Evidently, there are a number of ways to treat bicycle-induced impotence. Tube-topped Antelope Valley hookers come to mind, along with Viagra, oysters, baby talk and, of course the obvious, quit sitting on your artery while you’re riding a bicycle. Of course, Bicycle Magazine notes that a revolutionary new bicycle seat design might be the answer.
They have several models, all of which look suspiciously “… something like a toilet seat,” Salimpour said. That certainly will advance the cause of bike-riding nerds everywhere a thousand years.
Dr. Salimpour calls it: “ … penile numbness from nerve damage.”
Me?
I’ve got a buck for anyone who can look someone in the eye and solemnly repeat the phrase, “… penile numbness from nerve damage” without snickering.
John Boston has earned 119 major awards for writing stuff. Besides The Mighty West Ranch Beacon, his work appears in the prestigious thebostonreport.net just about every darn day. His commentaries represent his own opinions and not necessarily the views of any organization he may be affiliated with or those of the West Ranch Beacon. Read Boston’s daily blog, his Daily English Muffins, the Adventures of Job Hunter and more of John Boston’s award-winning commentary on thebostonreport.net