These ones are just as dumb, if not dumber than the Morons Against Stirrups from my other post. Now the pap test is romantic and sensual. It's just that our male gynos are so good at hiding how romantic and sensual it all is. Good thing this man is here to explain it to us.

Oh. My. Lords. Of. Kobol. More Meatbonnets.

Dig another pit, then help me push these cockfarts in and cover them with dog shit.

And thanks to RemediosVaro for linking this in my previous post. I saw it mentioned on the Meatbonnets Against Stirrups site, but never got around to clicking on it and reading anything.

Omg. I just can't with these derpwipes.

Knowing the female sexual arousal system responds to a warm, romantic setting, the male gynecologist creates a stark, unromantic examination scene. The intimate and sensual nature of the pelvic exam must be concealed by the harsh office atmosphere. The gynecologist knows how to play the game, to reassure, to distract and to confuse the unwary patient. The exam room is brightly lit, the doctor is in uniform – a sterile white coat – conversation is guarded and business-like; an atmosphere of warmth and sociability is avoided. Obligingly, a third person joins the scene – a nurse-chaperone whose presence is necessary because the participants cannot be trusted alone. Knowing how explosive the examination is, if another person – the chaperone – is witness to the event, somehow the sexual dynamics are neutralized, or so it is implied. Common sense would suggest that if the exam is so loaded with emotion, the exam should not take place at all. The presence or absence of a third person is basically irrelevant and the sterile atmosphere is merely a smoke screen.

Instead of such a sterile scene that conceals the true intimate nature of the event, consider an alternative – the gynecologist’s office with a romantic atmosphere. The waiting room has plush seating and dim lighting; coffee, perhaps even wine, is available, and soft romantic music is playing. In the exam room a mood-setting lamp in each corner replaces the harsh glare of overhead fluorescent lighting; romantic music wafts through the tastefully appointed room. The doctor appears in a fashionable jacket and slacks, with a friendly conversation and loving pats on the knee and shoulder preceding the main event. No chaperone intrudes, for the doctor performs alone in order to enhance the sensuous mood. NO! you say, this will never happen, and of course it won’t. The male gynecologist, like a deceitful chameleon, hides his true nature in a disguise of confusion. He needs the glare of lights, stark surroundings, and abrupt nature to confuse his quarry and complete the intrusive exam. The medical profession is acutely aware of the sensitivity of the female to a romantic setting; the stark atmosphere of the modern gynecologist’s office gives the female patient reassurance. All is well!

So the image that exists in this sterile office scene, played out a quarter million times each day, is that the hapless, naive patient lies on the exam table completely nude under a skimpy gown and sheet, feeling flushed and somewhat breathless for the event. The male doctor has just uncovered the female patient’s breasts (often only one breast is exposed at a time, as this is thought to defuse erotic thoughts), viewing and examining each thoroughly. Then the crucial moment arrives and he asks her to scoot down to the edge of the table, thereby gaining clear access to her most private parts. After an external exam, he penetrates her vagina with two fingers, and, when necessary, also enters her rectum. For most women it is a searing, humiliating moment – like none other.

The similarity of this physical intimacy to husband and wife making love at home is striking – a nude female in recline, a male offering soothing words, a brief interlude of foreplay with breasts, positioning the female in a provocative and advantageous manner, penetration of her vagina, followed by resolution and reassurance. Only two men have such access to the woman’s genitalia – her husband and her gynecologist – one her lifetime lover and partner, the other a complete stranger.

Oh. My. Lords. Of. Kobol. More Meatbonnets.