by Mark Morford

Created on: November 29, 2008

Female Orgasm: Proof Of God

Science can't explain it, evolution can't understand it and men can only lie there in awe

Women have orgasms because they can. Women have orgasms because it's the right thing to do.
Women have orgasms because by and large they refuse to launch monstrous ultraviolent illegal soul-deadening wars over oilsucking phallocentric powermad landwhoring BS powergrabs and therefore they fully deserve all the inexplicable otherworldly cosmically infused clitorally energized pleasures they can get.

Did you catch that keyword? That note of strangeness? It was right there, in the word inexplicable. Because apparently, as far as science is concerned and despite the obvious reasons I assert above, no one really seems to know exactly why women have orgasms at all.
Observe, won't you, a book by a soft-spoken scientist named Dr. Elisabeth Lloyd, from Indiana U, that basically claims there is no justifiable evolutionary need for the female orgasm whatsoever, that it really serves no known biological purpose and that it's becoming, therefore, increasingly obsolete and redundant and more or less unnecessary.

Note how much fun Dr. Lloyd must be at parties. Or on a date.

After all, the book concludes, the clitoris merely exists to create excitement to promote reproduction, but the female orgasm is merely a weird biological afterthought, a remembrance of things past, a wisp of a hint of something that came long before that maybe only our ape ancestors could fully appreciate and make good use of, mostly for generating a more potent, primitive urge to make little furry ape babies.

But now witness, argues the book, the heartbreaking number of modern non-ape women who have tragically low or nonexistent sex drives but who still feel absolutely compelled to pop out a nice brood of offspring. The female orgasm, clearly, ain't for procreation. It has no effect on the transport of sperm. It doesn't drive maternal desire. So, if the urge to orgasm has no connection with the urge to procreate, why do women get them at all?

This is the great thing about science. It gets all flabbergasted and confounded and scrunchy when confronted with things it doesn't quite understand and that it can't quite figure out and that don't fit into neat categories, especially if said things are astounding explosive events that make women moan and writhe and gasp and grin and feel their deep inborn prelapsarian connection to just about all of eternity, in the space of about 17 seconds.

There is no

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