"Cialis, viagra, levitra, and other erectile dysfunction medications generally belong to a class of chemical compounds called phosphodiesterase inhibitors or PDEs. Due to their ability to induce vasodilation - - or the dilation of blood vessels - - these compounds were originally developed to address cardio-pulmonary indications, particularly hypertension or 'high blood pressure.' Their value in targeting erectile dysfunction was a happy and serendipitous byproduct of this original intended use.
Today, some may take cialis, viagra, and levitra for granted. However, it's important to remember that these drugs were the fruit of decades-long research into chemically-supported sexual enhancement. Many other candidate drugs and compounds fell by the wayside during this long search.
For instance, in the 1960s, a small pharmacology developer named Manning-Smith pursued an alternative approach to chemically-supported sexual enhancement. Manning-Smith, located near Bloomington, Indiana, in the small town of Hadleyburg, explored the therapeutic relation between psychotropic drugs and sexual health. In what we might today recognize as something akin to "microdosing," Manning-Smith developed a precursor form of lysergic acid diethylamide (LSD) specifically targeted to the neural system supporting human erogenous zones. (At the time, other psychiatric researchers were experimenting with LSD as an adjunct therapy for alcoholism, anxiety, and depression.)
Due to contraindicative animal studies, Manning-Smith shuttered its psychotropic-erogenous program in the early 1970s. In the only known report on the program - - a pre-publication study accepted by the journal, Human Sexuality and Chemistry - - these contraindications included: deletion of executive function, super-heightened sexual response, and hyper-euphoria. It is estimated that over the course of its research program, Manning-Smith may have produced up to 4,000 gallons of its LSD isologue. The fate of this enormous chemical inventory has never been determined. Manning-Smith subsequently focused on the cognitive-enhancing effects of apoaequorin, a protein found in jellyfish. The company declared bankruptcy in 1981."
- Historical Approaches to Pharmacology: A Textbook
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Rutherford Samuel Johnson hated his name. So, at age twelve he declared that henceforth he would only respond to the name "Sammy." Rutherford Senior was disappointed but within a few years even he found himself addressing his oldest son as Sammy.
Unfortunately, Sammy's rebellion didn't end with his name. At fifteen, he was apprehended by Indianapolis police while spray painting an obscene image on his school's exterior. A year later, Indiana State Police pulled young Sammy over as he sped, unlicensed, in his parents' car through Greenwood, an Indianapolis suburb. When Sammy was discovered on the day after his eighteenth birthday in flagrante delicto and half-naked with a classmate - - Mary Beth Myer - - in a school coat closet, the judge offered Rutherford Senior a choice: send his son off to the military or enroll him in 24/7 supervised home care. Rutherford instead proposed that Sammy be sent to live on his parents' farm - - located in Hadleyburg, a small town near the Illinois-Indiana border. The judge, who proudly recalled his own rise from lowly farmhand to doctor of law, approved.
Three days after walking out of the courthouse on a bright, sunny morning in 1974, Sammy Rutherford found himself on a Greyhound bus heading west through the corn and soy fields of Indiana. As befits any budding juvenile delinquent, Sammy quickly found a seat in the smoking section of the bus, sharing a bottle of cheap vodka and a carton of cigarettes with a Vietnam vet (hardly older than himself) on his way home to Danville, Illinois.
Buzzed and stinking of nicotine - - but thrilled by his seatmate's tales of hot nights of coitus and cocksucking in Saigon, Sammy stumbled off the bus in Hadleyburg and into the welcoming arms of Mom and Pop Johnson. Sammy mostly slept on the short ride to the Johnson farm.
The Johnsons were proud, god-fearing Methodists who could trace their lineage and property deeds to Indiana's original settlers. Pop Johnson - - like all the other Johnson men - - was tall and broad. Unlike his son, the insurance adjuster, Pop was bronzed and layered with ropy muscle. His wife, whom he'd met at a dance at the Oddfellows Hall in a neighboring town, was petite and gifted with an especially robust figure for a woman in her late fifties. Folks around Hadleyburg who knew the Johnsons knew one thing for certain - - Pop Johnson was the muscle of the operation, but Mom Johnson was the brains. Other folks, mainly the men and boys who loitered on Hadleyburg's main street, also appreciated Mom Johnson's buxom figure when she and Pop visited town to shop and socialize.
"Well, Lucinda," Pop said to his wife as they drove from the bus station on the day of Sammy's arrival. "What are we gonna do with this young hellion?"
Lucinda Johnson pursed her lips.
"Pop," she finally answered as her husband navigated the big old Chevy onto the long dirt road that served as the farm's driveway. "We're gonna have to work him hard." She paused and glanced at the tall, lanky figure draped across the rear seat. "We're gonna have to work him so hard he remembers his name is Rutherford Samuel Johnson and that he's the Lord's grateful child."
Pop nodded, admiring his wife's honesty and straightforwardness.
And so began the reformation of Sammy Johnson. Grumbling and groaning, Sammy rose every morning at dawn, Monday through Saturday, and joined his grandpa in the fields around the farm. Tilling, planting, cultivating, and harvesting - - within the year, Sammy had become a farmer. He picked up a dark tan, drove the tractor in spring, walked the rows of soy and corn in summer, and delivered the crops to the processors in autumn. Sundays found Mom and Pop's grandson on the hard pews of Holy Redeemer Methodist Church, squirming under the endless droning of the local reverend.
The first few months were tough for young Sammy - - who spent most of his nights in sweaty dreams of hot rodding through downtown Indianapolis with Mary Beth Myter on his lap dressed in nothing but panties and bra. Yet, after that first season, as the cool autumn days gave way to the long winter nights, something changed in Sammy. The dreams of Mary Beth and speeding cars faded. There was less grumbling and complaining. He came to enjoy the work. He grew to respect his grandparents and their way of life, even if he never learned to forgive Reverend Adams and his yammering.
There were physical changes as well, of course. The hard work of farming transformed Sammy's gawky teenage frame into the tough, muscle-packed body of a man. He grew out his sideburns and kept his thick dark hair short and neat. He walked with new confidence and a straight back. More and more, he came to understand what it meant to be an independent, honest adult - - unafraid of responsibility and duty.
Mom and Pop Johnson recognized Sammy's transformation and applauded it, even if Mom Johnson sometimes worried that her pride in their work was a sinful vanity. Rutherford Senior thanked his parents every time they talked by phone or he visited in person and shook his son's firm hand. Visiting the farm at Christmas that first year, Rutherford even offered to take Sammy back to the city with him after the New Year.
"No thanks, dad," Sammy responded in his deep baritone. "Mom and Pop need me." He met his father's eyes. "Besides, I like it here."
Rutherford Senior nodded, choking back tears of gratitude and relief.
Spring came to the Johnson farm and the work commenced again. Sammy woke at dawn every morning and sprang out of bed, hungry for Mom's big breakfasts and eager to help Pop prepare the fields. For his eighteenth birthday that year, the family organized a big picnic at the farm and Mom and Pop and Rutherford Senior gifted Sammy a bright red Ford pickup truck.
"You'll need that for the bales," Pop said with a chuckle. "And also to pitch woo at them young ladies in town."
They all laughed and ate and drank until everybody stumbled off to bed.
That spring, however, odd things started happening around the farm. It was Pop who first noticed the change in the goats. One morning while Sammy tuned up the tractor, Pop fed the sleepy creatures. They barely stirred from their pen when he banged the feed tray. At first, he thought they were sick, but after a few minutes they rose and galloped first to the watering trough, drinking and slurping until the trough ran dry. They hardly paused to graze at the feed before the billy goats began chasing and mounting the nannies. The animals spent the rest of morning copulating wildly. By noon, they were all once again fast asleep in the pen.
"I'll be damned," Pop said to Sammy as they watched the goats panting in their sleep. "I guess now we know why they say 'horny as a billy goat'."
Both men chuckled and headed into the house for lunch.
The same pattern continued all week - - the goats rising from a drugged sleep to copulate madly, then collapsing for the rest of the day. Pretty soon, the chickens got in on the act as well, with the roosters and hens rolling in lust-driven, feather-flying balls for half the day.
At first, Pop was happy. More copulating meant more offspring. Then, he grew concerned. Was it possible, he asked himself, for animals to diddle themselves to death?
"Mom," he asked one morning as he sipped his coffee at the breakfast table. "You noticed anything off about this well water?"
Lucinda flipped the eggs in the frying pan and turned to her husband.
"Well.... no.... " she answered slowly. "I mean it tastes about the same to me. What about you Sammy?"
Sammy looked up from his plate.
