FDA Approves Abstinence

weetie, the Food and Drug Administration went beyond its usual scope to approve abstinence last week, endorsing the political stance by rejecting over-the-counter sales of the "morning after" birth control pill known as Plan B. Plan A apparently being wait until you're married to bone.

Over-the-counter sales of Plan B were denied despite recommendation of an advisory panel, whose suggestions are almost always accepted by the FDA. The Plan B pill is a contraceptive tool intended to be taken within 72 hours after sex to prevent pregnancy, and has an 89% effectiveness. While less controversial than the more famous RU-486 contraception, which is taken orally to induce abortion, critics can be heard from their moral high horses critiquing the pill for encouraging promiscuity without the punishment of pregnancy.

Pro-Choice lawmakers and women's rights organizations have blasted the proposal's rejection, suggesting politics have guided the decision more than science, and the Bush administration has maneuvered the FDA decision to curry favor with its conservative base. The FDA claimed its decision was formed on the lack of research on girls 16 and under who take the pill, and not on cowardly bowing to special interests.

The FDA formalized its position Friday by releasing an official approval of abstinence.

"We find abstinence to be one hundred percent safe and effective at preventing pregnancy," said the decision. "All of our studies on the subject find that sex is way over-rated, and people who won't be your friend if you don't have sex aren't the kind of friend you need anyway. While some opponents say abstinence is for squares, our research shows that abstinence is the method for kids too cool to play the peer pressure game."

Critics have charged the FDA with exceeding its authority and entering the realm of politics with Friday's decision, as well of being complete dorks. The FDA ruling went on to acknowledge that while the Plan B pill's over-the-counter sales could ostensibly prevent thousands of unwanted pregnancies, that abstinence was the only sure-fire way to prevent "the bad reputations and normal feelings of guilt associated with underage pre-marital sex." Thus concluded the report: "Abstinence… yay!"

Some have called for the resignation of acting Commissioner Lester Crawford and acting director for the Center for Drug Evaluation and Research Dr. Steve Galson, or at least signed confirmation the decision wasn't politically motivated. Galson previously headed a research group for the Abstinence Foundation performing a study on how the use of condoms reduced all feeling in the penis and the connection between teen-age sex and the holding of low-income jobs.

While the FDA has not closed the door to approving the over-the-counter sales of Plan B, it has significantly stalled the approval until, say, after the November election. If political motivation can be proven in the case, it will be more hard times for the FDA. The agency has faced recent scandal for letting so many male enhancement commercials ruin dinnertime television and approving over-the-counter sales of Placebo, the world's wonderful cure-all pill.

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Few things on this earth are more vile than a topped-off pair of Pampers with the space-age plastic ass all pooched out from an unfortunate run-in with some cruel infant's monstrous movement. Of the things that are more vile, a packed diaper exploding on a porch in the hot Texas sun and mayonnaise sandwich day at the old folks' home are the only two I'm permitted by law to mention here. But there is one creaky sunken battleship from the annals of viledom that I can resurrect here, just to see retired parents get that far-away look in their eye and that fire-away feeling in their queasy gut. An invention that will live in household infamy for all time:

The cloth diaper.

What few remember, and even fewer believe, is that before the disposable diaper came along, babies, the elderly and the fabulously lazy shat their days away in low-tech cloth diapers, not much different from the shammy you use to dry your car today. Actually, smell that shammy before you use it again, just a tip. But the kicker, the part that will really roast your oats is this: because of shortages caused by over-harvesting in the shammy forests of South America (as documented in Dr. Seuss's whistle-blowing novel, The Lorax), you couldn't just use the things and then throw them away. You actually had to find some way to wrap your mind around washing these horribly soiled crimes against nature, and then press them into service once again. I know, I know, and let me be the first to say it: history is gross.

The man who liberated us all from this ammonia-scented hell was an unassuming young fuddydud named Arthur Ringbaum. Ringbaum was a fast-rising idea man in the Proctor & Gamble Company, and at the crisp young age of 32 had already enjoyed numerous well-advertised successes. He had invented the three-dollar enema, and it was his idea to shoot rabbits out of a cannon to make sure makeup was safe. Ringbaum would have been known as the MacGuyver of product design, excepting for the fact that the show didn't exist in that day, and its star, Richard Dean Anderson, was but a quizzical swelling in his father's Sunday school trousers at that point.

But it would have been an apt comparison nonetheless, as Ringbaum was famous within the company for turning executive incompetence and planning blunders into hot, in-demand products. Legend had it that when presented with hundreds of decapitated horses' heads from a recent train accident, Ringbaum created the hobbyhorse, which became a huge success after the dead horses' heads were replaced with stuffed-felt facsimiles.

None of his past successes would prepare Ringbaum for the fame and adulation that the invention of the disposable diaper would bring him in the early 1960's. He became a worldwide celebrity who was loved universally, except for the people who mailed him soiled cloth diapers pinned to harsh notes questioning why he didn't think of it sooner, dammit.

In early April of 1960, Proctor and Gamble executives were faced with a dilemma. They had a huge amount of plastic left over from the poofy plastic chef's hat craze that had failed to take off as expected the year before. Fearful that they might have to resort to feeding their families big bowls of shredded plastic, the executives turned again to Ringbaum, who was still riding high on the success of his "meat thermometer," a regular thermometer made more profitable by the addition of the popular word "meat" to the packaging. Ringbaum took one look at the thousands of surplus plastic hats and he knew it. They were screwed.

But while having his ass kissed in London later that week, Ringbaum stumbled across an idea that was just crazy enough to work poorly. He rushed back to Proctor & Gamble headquarters and ordered to have all of the plastic hats filled with confetti left over from the planned parade to celebrate the success of the chef's hat division, which, for obvious reasons, never took place. After punching a few thousand leg holes and debating for months over the product name ("Snugglers," "Growlers," and "Ass Wraps" were all considered, but ultimately rejected), Pampers were released to the general public. They were an instant hit, and after print ads clarified that they were for use on babies, sales really took off.

The original Pampers had to be duct taped onto the baby's skin and only did their job for about forty seconds, but the prospect of never having to wash a nasty diaper again, not to mention the convenience being able to fling a bag of putrid scat onto your hated neighbor's roof on a moment's whim in the middle of the night, won over consumers regardless. Over the years the diaper has been improved in countless ways, with its absorbent core gradually refined to contain tissue, cardboard, pulp, liver & onions, and ultimately a super-absorbent chemical gel that will one day destroy us all.

What was a happy story for parents the world over turned out to be a sad one for Arthur Ringbaum himself. He never again reached the dizzying highs of his success with the disposable diaper, and his subsequent inventions such as the Vacuum Corral, the Coin-Eating Pope and the Couch Potato met with limited public interest. In 1988 he was shot dead outside his Maryland home by a West Virgina woman who had just the week before found out about disposable diapers. Sadly, he never lived to be old enough to enjoy the ultimate fruits of his labor, if it's not too disconcerting to refer to adult diapers as fruits. The New Jersey Division of Solid and Hazardous Waste currently has plans in the works to open a new landfill in his honor.

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Here's the facts, folks: I did not, nor have I ever tried the Waffle Messiah.

Any implication that I did try the Waffle Messiah, or in any way endorsed the Waffle Messiah or purchase of that kitchen appliance, was unintended.

I did not at any time mean to encourage that someone should actually purchase the Waffle Messiah or that it would be a welcome addition to any kitchen. When I made the statement during the infomercial that "it would make a welcome addition to any kitchen," I was, in fact, referring to a Mr. Coffee machine though I had made no previous reference to it. The fact that I was standing in close proximity to the Waffle Messiah and gesturing in what some could consider to be the direction of the Waffle Messiah that lay on the counter in front of me was purely accidental. Just a bad camera angle as I was actually gesturing in the direction of the restrooms off-camera, where I was planning to go once the taping of the infomercial was done.

The following statements I did say were intended to refer to the Waffle Messiah:

"It cooks so fast!"
"How much is that thing?"
"You can't get a waffle iron for less."
"Does that mean it's healthier?"
"And we'll tell you how to get one by calling this number."
"It's white!"
"Classic design."

The following statements may have been misconstrued to refer to the Waffle Messiah when in fact they were referring to Mr. Coffee, my co-host of the program Brad Winchell, or something I was thinking about in my mind:

"Makes 'em delicious!"
"I'm convinced!"
"Grease-free cooking!"
"And it's 100% safe!"
"I'd buy one!"
"I love it, Brad!"
"Sure makes you think."
"Classic design."
"Order one now."

I do not claim complete innocence in the recent Waffle Messiah fiasco. In fact, I allowed the production and multiple airings of an infomercial that intentionally misled the viewer to believe I, Clarissa Coleman, beloved celebrity and former star of Who's Your Daddy?, in some way supported or encouraged the buying of the dangerous Waffle Messiah product. My heart goes out to all those kids in the burn ward and I pray, metaphorically, for their quick recovery.

In the meantime I encourage anyone feeling down about the whole thing to go out there and pick up Time-Life's 70's Groove-A-Funk Collection featuring all your favorite hits, though I should clarify that when I say "all your favorite hits," I in fact have no way of knowing what your favorite hits are and the phrase refers to generally favored songs of the 70's era.

Caveat emptor.

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