`SCIENCE has given to this generation the means of unlimited disaster, or of unlimited progress,” said Winston Churchill. We now know what he means, courtesy of Professor Barry Komisaruk.
The professor and his team of researchers at Rutgers University in the United States this week announced the discovery of a chemical in the body which produces the female climax – prompting speculation that an “orgasm pill” will be with us (or, rather, with the fairer half of humanity) within a decade.
Komisaruk postulates that his discovery might be exploited to produce painkillers. It will certainly be one hell of a way to cure a hangover. Not to mention a telling response to the time-honoured excuse: “I’ve got a headache, darling …”
But the professor appears not to have fully seized upon the magnitude of his achievement – and the potential it has for good and evil.
It begins with himself. Presumably, in the tradition of modern medical researchers – who have tried to claim copyright on man’s genetic map – he has patented his find. If so, what price a man who can guarantee the world’s entire female population an orgasm on demand?
The discovery also, obviously, has implications for (gender-specific) mankind. Taken in conjunction with cloning, it raises the question as to whether he has any purpose left in life. On the other hand, it does provide a means to overcome one of the burdens of polygamy; after Sunday’s roast he can now just distribute the pill.
But those who find mass-produced, chemically induced orgasms distasteful can take comfort in the words of Bertrand Russell: “Civilised people cannot fully satisfy their sexual instinct without love.”
Love me, love my pill?