Another sort of fob


Now that we own a 1999 Taurus in addition to out 20-year-old Accord, bless its soul, I carry a fob in my pocket of the sort that shoots out invisible space rays and locks/unlocks doors, pops trunks and makes a racket.

It didn't take me long to realize that I did not have to remove the fob from my pocket to unlock the doors and that not doing so would save me literally dozens of calories a year.

And so now I leave my hands in the warm cavity of my pockets and unlock the car doors.

On paranoia:

I try not to think about the fact that if my car radio can pick up a station nine car-hours away, those same radio waves are piercing my body day and night. As well as the waves from every yahoo's cell phone. To say nothing of those evil microwave ovens.

And now I am polluting the world with more waves--and mere inches from my reproductive organs?

What sort of child may #2 be if my testes are fully foberrated?

Ah, to be a Neanderthal! And to worry about nothing more than proper club maintenance!

It's a dangerous world for the modern man, I tell you. Dangerous for him and his children.


  1. Don't get a job where you travel my friend; the space rays at 38,000 ft. are not as filtered up there.

    Space Rays.

  2. Yes, one should be very careful about foberating one's testes. I suppose I should be more concerned than most. Or maybe it's already too late.

  3. This is the one you said you were thinking of writing a couple weeks ago, isn't it? That's beautiful that you ended up posting it right after my post about Fob.

  4. .

    The timing was pretty good. But the other reason I posted it today was your email reminded me of the topic.

    Ah, how the stars align.

    (To the destruction of healthy sperm everywhere.)

  5. Perhaps, then, there's more to astrology than we first thought.

    I will never go to FOB again without thinking of my testes.