Raised Spirals

Raised Spirals

On a crisp winter night in a cozy Peoria watering hole with ten close friends, we hovered over ten glasses of pure Discovery Juice. While pondering life, liberty, and the pursuit of something, we intellectually full-circled to what intrigued us the most...then, at that moment.

The mysterious condom machinery bolted to the walls in the restrooms suddenly morphed to enigma status. We agreed to accept them into our collective subconscious and solve some riddle about them.  Admittedly it required another stiff swig of Discovery Juice to get into the mood...kinda the opposite of Arnold Schwarzenegger pulling the orb from his nose in Total Recall...and we were up for the task.

Over the extra round, the machines became archetypes. We seemingly could think about them as one in group consciousness. They engulfed us in a comatose hypnotic state just by looking at them, even when we were not relieving ourselves a collective thousand hundred times over the last twenty years. In short, they were PERFECT total waste of time conversation fodder.  So, here were the questions upon which we agreed: 
  • Who is in charge of them? Where is this person?
  • Is there a goldmine of coins waiting for us to roll in?
  • Were the contents ahem, still useable after all these years?
  • Where do thinking people go with this information?

Who is in Charge?

It seems simple, but the machine had not been resupplied from the mainland for 18 years. It seems that upon purchasing the bar, the owner was doing what owners do one day and an unknown "supplier" walked in. He vanished into each restroom and shortly reappeared.  With his booty in tow, he counted and handed out the owner's portion and announced, "I'll return in a year." Eerily, he was never seen again. We concluded, that assuredly his profit over the years in the business created quite a financial moat for his future and he needed no more money. 

A Goldmine of Coins

None of us knew how to work a crowbar. End of segment.

Now for the Ahem, Contents

The same brand of science that led us to discover global warming proved more than sufficient among we curious ones. Between us, we coughed up 50 cents and turned the handle. The truth popped out. 

It appeared quite legit.  But we had agreed upon the science. On to the proof...

We uncorked it. Dry, seemingly flexible, it appeared real. There were no try on volunteers, though. It seems there was quite a concern for the effects of latex manufactured well before the discovery of novocaine if anything went wrong. Our collective science genes kicked in as we rallied around the task and the next best test for prophylactic efficacy became protocol. 

It WAS SO COOL!!! This test we remembered from high school football game after parties was finally useful.  It passed our inspection.

The Thinking People Question

After all of this our brains hurt a bit and we realized that where we go with it is not as important as the fact that we accepted the challenge and accomplished what we did. It was the process, not the final outcome that shaped who we are. Process baby, process.


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