According to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary, an inference is “the act of passing from one proposition, statement, or judgment considered as true to another whose truth is believed to follow from that of the former.” In light of this definition (as much as I’d like to own an unabridged copy of the OED I don’t have a tractor trailer to cart it around in), I am pleased to announce that, by inference, my semen is exemplary.
Okay, so follow me down the rabbit hole here before calling the Internet Police. Now, yesterday the wife and I received a call from the doctor, giving us the very welcome news that her MaterniT21 blood test came back with flying colors. For anyone who isn’t familiar with this particular blood test, it was developed as a screening test to ensure early detection for possible chromosomal abnormalities in a developing fetus – particularly for cases of Trisomy 21, 18, and 13, which is more commonly known as Down Syndrome, Edwards Syndrome, and Patau Syndrome respectively, and are the Big Three when it comes to birth defects.
I’m overjoyed to announce that our child, which as of today is more than 15 weeks along its gestational period, has an absolutely clean bill of health. Everything came back negative, the kid is developing exactly as he or she should be at this point, and the wife and I are extremely relieved. Not only that, but based on the fact that our child is indeed developing properly, I can infer from these genetic results that my semen is both potent and genetically stable, making me quite literally a sexual tyrannosaurus.
That’s right, you heard it here, folks: keep all fertile females at least six to ten feet away from my genitals at any given time to reduce the risk of spontaneous impregnation. My loins are powerful, capable of contributing perfect genetic material at a moment’s notice, though not more than twice in a row without at least ten minutes’ worth of recuperation (based on empirical data gathered during exhaustive research studies).
However, I am available for birthdays, bat mitzvahs, quincenearas, and sweet sixteen parties. You know, in case you want to inject some genetic superiority into your family tree.