Face the facts, folks, we're all hooped

It was ominous news for all of us, according to the papers this weekend. Indeed, so ominous that I believe none of us has a chance for a fulfilling life, and what we do or don't do, or take pleasure in, or don't take pleasure in is a-gonna kill us.

Yes, those weenie-wonks who take some sort of perverse pleasure in researching this stuff and then revealing their remarkable findings just to make the general public feel inadequate and fraught with despair can feel a smug sense of triumph in rendering life just a little bit worse.

Am I talking about Iran, Iraq, global warming or anything else involved assorted conspiring madmen and malcontents brimming with desire to take us out? Not at all. I am talking about the fundament of our lives. That is, our socio-economic status, our recreational pursuits, and our sexual activities.

In the first case, a report on the weekend tells us that our family-of-origin determines our future wealth potential. So, if you were born and raised on a hardscrabble dirtfarm somewhere, anywhere, your future destiny is, at best, a trailer park. On the other hand, if you were born a Paris Hilton (seen above in some sort of momentary difficulty, about which I don't choose to speculate), you know, brain-dead, ego and estrogen-driven, but filthy stinkin' rich, you will continue to be so, and so will your children and grandchildren. In other words, if your formative years were the wrong side of the proverbial tracks, your chances of being president or prime minister are pretty damn remote. Does a guy like Bill Clinton put the lie to that. Well, yes and no. He married shrewdly and had more connections than he always chose to reveal. Anyway, that's bummer #1 for the guys who relish telling you bad news.

Secondly, it's been a hot day. You've been working hard and haven't been getting much exercise later. What would be better than going down to your local municipal pool and taking a dip, or, if you are so privileged, dive into your very own backyard pool. Aha -- not so fast. That cooling-off exercise could cost you your life, for reasons other than the obvious, like getting drunk and then attempting to dive into the shallow end. No, you see, the assorted 'Dr. Bringdowns' are telling us its all about the crappy nature of the water, especially in public pools. All sorts of pee, sweat and other unimaginable stuff being deposited in those azure waters render that pool no safer for your health than bathing in the septic tank, these guys say. Yep, you can get anything from impetigo to meningitis, to almost anything you might consider. Better to just head home and get into bed, according to the bummer #2 guys.

Get into bed indeed. And hey, on the surface, this looks like a good one. If you get into bed, do not get into bed alone. Get into bed with somebody whom you fancy. Better yet, with somebody to whom you are either married or in a long term relationship. You have it here. Sexual intercourse is good for a body. I've always suspected that, and a London Daily Telegraph article is happy to so inform us. And, ideally, such encounters should be at least twice a week for optimum health advantage. Nice thought, eh? Makes up for the aforementioned bad stuff. Well, maybe not entirely so.

The British research team that released its findings suggested that while indeed intercourse lowers the blood pressure, increases self-esteem, lessens depression, and slaps the prostate into shape, the criteria of such encounters are very specific, the article goes on to say. It is only talking about basic, missionary-position, penile-vaginal sex (not that there is anything wrong with that). So, of no clinical value whatsoever is oral sex, masturbation, or anything else you might have a mind to do with the various fun spots God gave us.

So, how is this good news for people who are alone? No point in net surfing with a goal of self-amusement in mind. That's not going to keep you healthy, or alive. What about men with erectile difficulties? What about gays? What about new parents? Furthermore, activities of the 'Monica-Bill' sort will take you out just as quickly as doing nothing at all.

In reading the article, knowing that it wasn't April Fool's day any longer, I wondered who commissioned such a study. The Pope?

So, my advice for today is accept the fact you're a peasant, don't go swimming and, if you have a very special intimate friend, go at it like there's no tomorrow. Maybe there isn't.