The Story Of O

By Tony Kornheiser

Sunday, April 13 1997; Page F01
The Washington Post

There is a certain sort of news item that comes across a newspaper editor's desk maybe
once in a lifetime, an item that compels him to drop whatever else he is working on and
hammer it into the paper, fast.

Here are two examples:

1. A team of burglars, quite possibly in the employ of the president of the United States, is
caught attempting to break into the headquarters of the president's political rivals and plant
wiretaps, setting into motion a sequence of events that might lead to a constitutional crisis
unequaled in the history of the republic.

2. Scientists develop an "orgasm pill" for women.

This second story moved on the wires early last week. Responding with the sort of
levelheaded restraint and canny skepticism for which American journalism is famous, editors
gobbled it up like a Tootsie Roll at a fat men's convention. The New York Post called it the
Thrill Pill, and said it would be available "soon," though later in the story they said it would
take 12 years, making you wonder how the paper would define "momentarily" -- by 1999?
Within minutes the paper had a team of reporters in the streets, asking women passersby
whether they would take it. Ordinarily, these Inquiring Photographer stories seek out random
New Yorkers, most of whom look like Ralph Kramden or Moms Mabley. But this particular
feature seemed to focus exclusively on people who looked exactly like either Tea Leoni or
Tyra Banks.

The story had everything you'd want, including this quote from one of the researchers: "If we
are able to study the transmitters that are in sensory nerves to augment their actions, then it's
possible to mimic their actions." A quote like that, which nobody understands, is crucial to a
story about an orgasm pill, because it gives scientific gravitas to an article that might otherwise
seem a trifle sleazy.

Make no mistake about it, this was a science story. Some of the research was done on
laboratory rats. That must be so cool -- watching rats have orgasms! (Although I imagine
there are lots of women out there who feel they've already seen that.)

Anyway, this story had everything editors look for in an important story -- sex, orgasms,
women, women having orgasms while engaging in sex -- with one small exception. The
reason that you did not see this story in The Washington Post is that we checked it out and
discovered that the story was absolutely correct except in regard to three facts:

1. There is no orgasm pill.

2. For women.

3. And probably never will be.

What gets me is that no one who ran with this story -- it was all over the radio news, too --
bothered to ask some pretty obvious questions. They were speculating on bizarre
hypothetical situations, stuff like, Imagine how much fun it would be to have Orgasm Pill Day
at the ballpark. How would you like to see the seventh-inning stretch that day? -- without
asking how an orgasm pill could possibly, you know, work.

My first reaction was that this pill would be bad for men. If we men were no longer needed
to dependably bring women to orgasm with our irresistible, manly ways -- what need would
there be for us?

"This may come as a shock to you," my friend Megan told me, "but you aren't needed for
that. Fortunately for you, there are many, many bookshelves that need installing."

I assumed that women would welcome an orgasm pill. My friend Liz, who has barely any
time for herself, being a working mom with two small kids, said she might take the pill while
she was doing the family laundry. "And I'd have both hands free to fold," she said happily.

But Liz said what women would rather have was a pill that would do things that men weren't
good at. "Like tell you if your skirt and blouse matched, or that this is the most delicious
dinner ever." Or "My biggest flaw is that I don't listen enough to what you say, dear."

On reflection, though, I think an orgasm pill for women would be good for men. Because
now, after a satisfying sexual episode that typically lasts, oh, 35 seconds, a man wouldn't
have to waste time cuddling with a woman and pillow talking to her to convince her she was
more important in his life at that moment than, say, a 12-piece Chicken McNuggets Value
Meal. He could just flip her a pill and grab the clicker and get back to the NBA game on
TNT before the end of the third quarter.

To me, the most obvious question about the original orgasm pill story, the thing that should
have made it suspect on its face, was: How can you reliably time it?

Let's say it takes 20-30 minutes to hit. So you plan it to kick in, say, toward the end of your
lunch hour. But, see, let's say you ate a grilled cheese sandwich. Dairy products are murder
on the digestive process. So you've had this uneventful lunch, and now you are due back for
your afternoon appointment . . . testifying before the Senate Judiciary Committee on your
nomination to be a United States Supreme Court justice.

And there you are on the stand, and Sen. Orrin Hatch says, "Miss Jones, we are not
concerned with your politics here; that would be inappropriately partisan of us. We are
concerned with questions of constitutional prerogatives, such as whether the Constitution
protects unborn babies from murderous assaults by filthy subhuman godless heathens. Would
you not agree, Miss Jones?"

"Yes."

"And would you also agree that even as the Constitution guarantees the separation of church
and state, it encourages the freedom of religion?"

"Yes. Yessss."

"And furthermore, Miss Jones, don't you think that reinstitution of the phrase `under God' in
the Pledge of Allegiance can be construed as a return to the sacred moral and ethical values
that this country was founded on?

"Oh, God, yes! Yesssss! YESSSSSSS!"

"Thank you, Miss Jones. Er, there is no cigarette smoking permitted in this committee room."

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