"Say, boss. The boys down in plastic injection want to know what to do about Ken."
"Do?" the boss asks.
"You know," the junior exec shifts in his chair, "unit or no unit."
"More like Ken or Kant," Thompson quips while swirling his Glenlivet. The men chuckle. Thompson was always a card.
In the pre-CAD era, 5-axis NC was done by hand. Old-world artisans sculpted block aluminum water-cooled precast molds that would soon be stamping out an army of Ken dolls like the Truman administration battling the Reds in Korea. They had to get it right the first time.
"Well, what did we do with Barbie?" the boss asks.
The junior exec is puzzled. "What did we do with Barbie what?"
"You know," the boss motions, "down there."
The men look to each other nervously. Some pull out gold Dunhill lighters and begin to smoke.
It was the '50s. The only people who knew female anatomy were communists and jazz musicians. As far as polite society was concerned, it was pure Indian country. The Bermuda triangle.
One of the execs finally dares to breach the awkward silence. "So, lunch?"
Americans are terrified of many things -- cholesterol, programming a VCR, the metric system -- but nothing more so than sex. Not the act, as our billion-dollar porn industry will attest. Rather, teaching children about it. We have entire government agencies (FCC) and nonprofits (MPAA) manning the perimeter, forever vigilant about keeping Elder Knowledge away from the little ones. I'm told this state of affairs baffles Europeans, who apparently have orgies spontaneously erupting at the dry cleaners and grocery store. (Interposed England has largely maintained its Victorian modesty, efforts of the rock n' roll notwithstanding. Indeed, during my time there, the English made LabKitty feel like Smoove B, and I assure you I am not what anyone would consider "funky.")
It is a quirk of our national psyche, and one that looks all the more strange once you stop to look at it. A population without sex is not long for this world. You may recall this as the plot of Children of Men. We can also put it into simple math: n(t) = n(now) ⋅ exp(-rt), which goes to zero for any value of n(now) and r. (I'm neglecting Allee effects and asexual reproduction in the model; the latter appears to have only happened once and continues to be a point of some contention.)
Here, I made a plot.
Sex is required for life, no less than cholesterol. The only thing standing between humanity and extinction is babies. It doesn't take a global epidemic or a killer asteroid or a Sarah Palin presidency. Just all women of reproductive age shrugging and saying: Meh, no thank you. In about two score years we would pass the point of no return.
Still, I suppose if little Suzy were to disrobe her Ken doll and find, you know, parts, it would open a can of untoward questions. LabKitty's childhood was no different. Getting my parents to acknowledge sex would have been like trying to get Rainman on an airplane. To this day, my mother and aunt proudly boast they walked out of Young Frankenstein because it was "inappropriate." If the Internet ever makes it to Circle Pines, it will literally kill most of my family.
Footnote: Oddly enough, Barbie has boobs, and I assume her target demographic typically does not. Or at least classic Barbie does, a feature for which Mattel has been taken to task as creating unrealistic expectations in the tender psyche of our nation's youth (as if owning a Dream House in this economy doesn't). I'm not versed in the current state of Barbie's mammalian physiology as -- believe it or not -- this is not a topic that occupies my waking moments to any significance.
I am cognizant of how awkward "the talk" is without ever having been on either side of the exchange. Yet, as with any unpleasant task, it is possible to farm out the job to professionals. While I cannot imagine you would want LabKitty explaining the birds and the bees to a roomful of impressionable children, there exist persons in the world who can handle such an enterprise with grace, dignity, and good humor. Alas, along with preparing a 1040, here is a topic fringe groups frantically work to keep verboten in the American public school curriculum. Odd, that. Your child may never accumulate enough assets to require the long form, but eventually puberty will come knockin'. As the current system stands, sooner or later it comes down to fate. This benefits no one except Billy Joel.
Failure to prepare is preparing to fail, as the Scouts say. It creates what engineers call an open-loop system, characterized by erratic behavior and instabilities, which likely explains, among other things, America's billion-dollar porn industry. LabKitty does not seek to take the silver spoon, or other things, out of their mouth. However, a gaping hole in the educational system about something so basic, so fundamental, so necessary to human nature creates a craving that will be filled with ignorance if knowledge is not inserted instead. Here, my double entendre generator is starting to overheat, so I will proceed to the denouement.
It is possible to teach a child something. It is impossible to teach a child not-something. And so the conundrum. We keep our children balanced on a knife edge of innocence, a precarious tightrope walk hoping some errant breeze does not blow an offensive word or sound or picture into their peripheral vision. Keeping them safe until they reach the other side. The other side of what, I do not know. Call me a hopeless romantic, but until Apple announces the iWomb we're stuck with gamete fusion, blastocyst implantation, differentiation & growth, dilation & contraction, and, finally, fetus expulsion. With all of the attendant challenges and difficulties, none of which is made better by ignorance. I refuse to believe this cannot be addressed sensibly, honestly, and with benefit to both our nation and our nation's children. All it takes is the will.
Are you a Ken, or are you a Kant?
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