by SASKATCHEWAN KOLONOSCOGRAD, Alternate Reality News Service Religion Writer
Automation is coming to the world's seventh oldest profession (it's in a statistical dead heat with camel whisperer, although both are well ahead of golem manicurist): ritual circumcisionizer. And, the National Union of Mohels is very unhappy about the development.
"Vat? You vant you should take food from my children's mouths" cried professional circumcisionizer Arthur Moyle. "Little Simcha - only thirty-seven years old and just about to get her first pair of braces! Oy! And, Gennadi, always so fond of his scalloped cabbage rolls! Okay, so they're not babies, already! Still, that it should come to this - it's a zachen vei!"
When I asked him if that was the official position of the Union, Moyle, the Steward of Toronto Local 555 answered: "Oh. You want an official comment. Give me a moment to put my NUM skullcap on."
After affixing a yarmulke to a wisp of white hair on his head (which looked suspiciously like a sideburn that had been subjected to an extreme comb over), Moyle continued: "This is just another example of technology being used to - you should pardon the expression - 'screw over' decent, hard-working labourers. What is this world coming to if a man can't make a good living removing the foreskins of innocent children?"
Finn Rasputin Doyle, founder and CEO of International Redundancies, the North America (and France) distributor of the circumcising machines (known in countries in which English is not the predominant language as the Wash and Whack and Wash), argued that, while technological change often resulted in economic change, lost jobs were often offset by newly created jobs.
"Like yours?" I asked.
"What?" Doyle responded. "Are you trying to take food out of my children's mouths? Little Ewan - only forty-six years old and just about to get his first pair of -"
I had heard it all before - recently - so I waved him off and moved on to exposition.
The Wash and Whack and Wash technology started with a very different purpose: cleaning a man's p...ersonal parts after they had done their business at a urinal. The AI-enhanced stall sent a stream of water at the user's p...rivate member in order to clean it off. Then, a jet of warm air was sent to dry it off.
At this point, the machines (in France and parts of the world where English was not the primary language) was called the Whiz and Wash.
"It was important for us to keep the double W in the name," Doyle reminisced, "as an homage to the company's founder, Juan Diego de Flores."
Initially, the Whiz and Wash washed for 10 seconds, rinsed for 10 seconds and blow dried for 20 seconds. Clinical trials showed that men were not happy having their p...willies exposed for 40 seconds after finishing their bathroom duties. When asked why, 69 per cent of subjects said that they were worried they could catch a cold. When asked the same question when hooked up to a lie detector, 89 per cent reluctantly admitted that they were afraid they would be tempted to compare sizes with men in adjacent stalls. Not that they had any reason to worry, you understand (one of the unexpected findings of the study was that 100% of the subjects believed their p...johnsons were larger than average), they just didn't want to, uhh, you know, embarrass the other guy. Yeah. That's it. They didn't want to embarrass the other guy.
So, the version of the Whiz and Wash that went to market featured wash and rinse periods of five seconds each and a dry spell of 10 seconds. To ensure that it worked, the heat and intensity of the air during the drying phase had to be tripled, so, just to be on the safe side, the company quintupled it. As the men who used the urinals soon found out, this resulted in an unexpected side effect known in the industry as "dermal abrasion," although to the men who had experienced the effect, it was known as "where the hell did my foreskin go? I don't care that my [EXPLETIVE DELETED] [EXPLETIVE DELETED] smells like lavender - where the [EXPLETIVE DELETED] is my foreskin!"
As they teach in Harvard Business School, "When life gives you lemons, lay off half your staff and rebrand as a soft drink manufacturer!" International Redundancies - whose CEO was apparently paying attention in class - has had some success marketing the Wash and Whack and Wash to cash-strapped Synagogues. But, what of the human cost?
"...Hymie, little Heimelach," Moyle was saying. "He's only 31 1/2, but he is already wondering if he will have a parental nest to return to when his used lip gloss trading start-up goes bankrupt! How can we allow our children to live in such uncertainty, already?"