Posted May 20, 2008
By tseigler

The more I think about it, the more I feel let down by Walhalla’s educational professionals. My history textbook forgot to mention that the South lost the Civil War (excuse me, the “War of Northern Aggression”). That would have been useful information to me when I tried to update my passport.

Sex education consisted of looking at gross pictures of herpes patients, while the football coach sat at the front of the class and skimmed through month-old issues of “Sports Illustrated.” Think of the breakthroughs we students could have made if it had only been the swimsuit issue. Instead, I will never be able to think about STDs without associating them with TDs (touchdowns).

Popular culture has helped in my sexual education, I must say. Thanks to porn, I know that pizza delivery boys and copier-repair technicians can get laid simply by showing up. Girls don’t often make passes at guys who wear glasses, but such eyewear-based sexism doesn’t exist in men (hell, take the glasses off and she’s gorgeous!). And any time a man and a woman are together, soft jazz will emanate from an unknown source. At least until the masked killer shows up and chops them into bits and pieces.

Everything I needed to know about sex, I learned from watching Cinemax.