In the coital assembly line of love making, every second counts... a moment wasted is a moment in which one of the girls standing in the line that starts at the bed post might suddenly get sober. Yet the prophylacticization process takes so long: valuable time flushed down the toilet before its used, flaccid twin. A condom must be fished out of a drawer, torn open, turned inside out, applied. Surely, science can perfect the process.
Yet science has not. There is no robotic pneumonic cavity installed in the bedroom wall for automatic condom application. The spray-on condom remains MIA. In fact, all science and industry have managed to do to speed up the process is the Condo-M, a $28 Pez Dispenser of johnnies that merely saves the time one might spend rooting around in one's wallet for a non-mummified specimen, or rooting through the bathroom trash can for a "fresh enough" specimen.
I'm disappointed. So is Wired's Charlie Sorrel: "It makes your bachelor pad look like nothing so much as a pumping production line," he scorns. I don't follow.