7 Comments on Chlori-Nation

(One person will understand this post.  If you are not that person, feel free to go away.  The sooner, the better.)


I have a (female) blogger friend who describes sperm as ‘bleachy’ and, not being a woman prone to sputtering on chlorination, she chooses not to swallow any.  Ever.

She and I have tried (in vain) to explain the concept of bleachy sperm to a mutual (male) bloggy buddy, but he’s convinced we’ve been exposed (heh) to the wrong types of guys.  Namely, the ones who work at the Clorox plant.

Despite the fact that dull whites are one of those pesky annoyances that go along with doing laundry, I do not use Clorox.  (Nor do I use the gentlemen who work at the Clorox plant.)  So his argument is moot.

However, I think between the two of them (‘them’ being my bloggy buddies), the current state of the human condition can (maybe, possibly, perhaps) be explained.

Let’s pretend for a moment that the human gene pool is a bit chlorinated.  (If your imagination needs fodder, I invite you to stroll your local Wal-Mart at noon on a Saturday and examine the Wal-Martians.  You won’t have to pretend.  You’ll simply recognize said chlorination as fact.)  How do you suppose it got that way?

Bleachy sperm.

But what, you are wondering, is bleachy sperm, Feve?


It’s sperm that smells like bleach, of course.


Simple biology (or chemistry or just plain cause-and-effect) dictates that what goes in the body affects what comes out.  And what comes out is bodily fluids.  All kinds of bodily fluids.

Urine, for example, is not supposed to be dark yellow.  If you are drinking enough water and throwing other healthy sustenance down your gullet, it should be almost clear.  Likewise should sweat.  And neither should be particularly smelly.  That said:  Ever smelled the sweat of a man playing basketball the morning after a beer bender?  *Shudder*  Not exactly bleachy…  But neither is it a garden of roses.  So:  good stuff in, good stuff out; garbage in, garbage out.  Toxins (excess sugar, caffeine, alcohol, etc.) in, toxins out.

If the toxins out come (heh) in the form of bleachy sperm and subsequently become toxins in (as in, in utero), I submit (heh) to you that the result is (once again) toxins out (i.e., future Wal-Martians of the world).

Which brings us back to our (oh-so-hard-to-believe) supposition that maybe (just maaaayyyybe) the human gene pool is slightly (only 90%) chlorinated.

And it’s all the fault of bleachy sperm.


I admit that, as a theory, it might need a little work.  But I think my hypothesis is sound.  Perhaps I should experiment…

Besides, someone needs to figure these things out.  Might as well be me!  😀

7 thoughts on “Chlori-Nation

  1. archer1972

    I think the Wal-Martian theory can be explained by lots of inbreeding. Either that or people being conceived through bedsheets. Or maybe too much country music exposure at an early age.

    If sperm was bleachy there would be a lot of sparkling clean tonsils and uteri out there lol.

  2. Bill

    They don’t have much luck testing for DNA on motel sheets. There’s too much from too many people. Might be an argument in favor of bleach. But toxins in equals toxins out sounds right. I have tasted my own and spicy food comes through {pun intended}

  3. Indigo Byrd

    I’m not sorry I read this Feve, but its kind of killed my mood. What I find especially fascinating/scary/ is the comment above by Archer1972 – does this mean the chlorination theory is universal? Because it seems to apply here in Australia too… I hadn’t thought about the motel sheets/dna stuff either, that is rather challenging (might take my own next time at least I know who’s been sleeping in my bed.)
    Indigo Byrd recently posted…FigsMy Profile

    1. Mrs Fever Post author

      Hmmm… Well, shared intimate surfaces can be a bit frightening, no doubt.

      There was a television show, made in the earlier 2000s, called Monk – in which, a no-longer-sane-enough-to-be-a-regular-police-detective character, Monk, solves a variety of crimes as a PI, both in spite of and because of his severe OCD. He has a variety of phobias to boot. The things he’s afraid of sometimes seem laughable on the surface, but if you really think about it, he’s RIGHT to be afraid. We all would be if we put some little gray cells to work on the problem{s}.

      I have a touch of OCD myself, so I have to make a choice: I can worry it to death (‘it’ being ‘whatever horrificness I’ve mentally honed in on for the moment’), or I can find a way to laugh about it. (Or, like today with the graffiti, I find something calming or smile-inducing to counteract the upset.)

      This post, now several years old, was just my way of finding some humor in the sometimes-horrendous humanisms that would otherwise stress me out. 🙂


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