LOCK UP THOSE LOINS
The solution to the population problem may be found in chastity belts, crotch guards, and ravenous rubbers.
In Slapstick, a novel by Kurt Vonnegut, the People’s Republic of China has found the key to solving the world’s population problem: Miniaturize everyone. This way, everything will come in huge packages: land areas will be wider, food items will be humongous, and resources will be available to sustain humanity for more lifetimes.
In the non-fiction world, however, that machine would take quite some time, not to mention the moral and legal discussions that would probably take place at the halls of Congress and the Senate, and the patent of the invention.
So, we the faithful have to reckon with the ongoing argument of whether to keep the population down by planning our sex lives, or whether to simply refrain from getting any. Of course, Catholic guilt tells us that abortion is a godless act and will lead us to burn in hell.
Even Hollywood has made references to condoms as evil things. Satan’s wicked rubber got its spotlight in the 1996 movie Killer
Condoms. Here, in a New York hotel called Quicky, condoms are carnivores that bite off the penises of those who wear them.
Let’s empower ourselves, our braburning mothers said. Our bodies, our selves. Yet, while reproductive rights are everyone’s concern and duty to weigh in all kinds of views, from the liberal to the conservative, the government and church seem to be treating women as perpetual adolescents. “Here, you must have these bowl-full of free condoms or else you’ll get pregnant in an instant!” the clinic staff intimidates us. Or, “You’re a bad person if you use an IUD” preach religious groups. It’s a continuous tug of war.
Last year, the Philippine court approved the Reproductive Health Law, a welcome development according to the government as it aligned with the UN’s post-2015 Mil- lennium Development Agenda. And here lies some condom redemption. The future will look even brighter if Satan’s rubbers gear up for domination.
No more AIDS, no more unwanted kids. Not Utopia yet but at least we’ll slowly solve the problem of congestion along with the government’s lack of competence or resolve to provide its taxpayers with basic services.
Meanwhile those who are against the condom law will continue to wield their Bibles and declare that this is simply unacceptable. Ridden with Catholic guilt as the majority in this country still are, could there be a happy marriage in this? Perhaps women should just close their legs to end the argument? Chastity belts could become fashionable again. Imagine the preventive sex lock as a coitus controller.
The congregation can chalk up ideas on how to make it stylish again. “Ay, we should tap the help of our top fashion designers and mount an exhibition on chastity belts. These things could be elegant and comfortable given the right twist and embellishments! Our women will want to keep their hymens intact with these designs.”
The chastity belts could be showcased during fiesta night—right after the parade of dazzling crowns and capes worn by relics. Sales of the chastity belts would go to the unwed and pregnant women who realized too late that this beautiful life processes called birthing and motherhood would entail costs.
Call it the chastity tax as proceeds of the belts would also benefit the babies turned over by their mothers to an infant care/ adoption center of sorts. Oh, babies are too cute! This country is just too in love with little ones—let’s not be pessimistic. Sooner or later, they’ll find a home and a family that could really raise and love them. Im-
Our pious socialites can set this noble trend by posting their selfies wearing chastity belts of the day. Steampunk chastity belts—love it!
posing a “child-free policy,” even a “one-child, one-family rule,” would raise more hell than franchising condom bars. Hey, we invented the super extended family.
(But let these baby centers ensure that the mothers are duly registered lest a foundling one day decides to run for president.)
Our pious socialites can set this noble trend by posting their selfies wearing their chastity belts of the day. Steampunk chastity belts—love it! And after husbands and lovers have philandered, a woman can declare peace in her heart after rediscovering faith and that new lock for her beaded belt. The better to secure one’s precious gear, of course, and resolve to lead a life of virtue.
See, those chastity belts will work two ways: Slow down population growth and discourage spouses from rogering another woman. Well, this is assuming the condom law has been scrapped and the chastity belt law has turned into a Republic Act at least.
Don’t smirk just yet, the Philippines continues to have the most archaic laws, including tolerating rape in marriage (Article 266 in the Anti-Rape Law of 1997), decriminalizing squatting (Anti- Squatting Law Repeal Act of 1997), and getting arrested and being fined at least P500 if you’re a widow who remarries within 301 days since your husband passed away (Section 351 of the Revised Penal Code ), to name a few.
On another platform, we could take our chastity belt mission to beauty pageants, thus helping improve its bad rep as being mere flesh matches. Instead of a swimsuit category, organizers could make it an opportunity to present the belts as symbols of feminine perfection: pure, full of grace, and subservient.
And what about the men, you ask? Well they could, if they want to wear male crotch guards. In fact, go online and you’ll see a proliferation of products, sold wholesale and cheap by Chinese dealers. The problem here is that they’re categorized as sex toys, as cock cages—a prelude to a night of unleashing some jailhouse f-ck. Instead of paving the puritan path to abstinence, it got lost in translation and turned kinky instead.
Well, send in the carnivorous condoms then. Perhaps that’s when equality will truly happen. Women would not be ensnared into having sex, would not get pregnant, would not be jailed if they abort a child, or would not be prejudiced for being an unwed mom.
Meanwhile, the men will fear being snacked on by ravenous rubbers.