Creamy, chewy Christ on a cracker! Grab a Kleenex and clutching pearls, Poor Impulsives!

Heavens to goddamn Mergatroid, my girlfriend’s a half-eaten cheeseburger! My boyfriend’s been plated and sucked clean of sour cream! Who knows who ate ’em first! Whatever will I dooooooooo?

Kids, Auntie Ta’s never steered you wrong. No, the sled’s not at all going to rocket down the hill, across the frozen yard and voooosh! into space, and you won’t even a little slam into the street and the snowbank on the other side. So hop on.

Let’s be completely honest. Your partner in chem lab makes your insides titrate, and it’s a different world now than in the exotic antiquity when your parents and I smoked pot with our gym teacher. They’ll deny it, since old age and sloth are a whole lot easier to live with than the memory of how we used to get tanked and drive the farm hills with the lights off, because the idea that you might scares all dainty shit out of them. And with good reason. We were young and stupid, but you are on camera almost every minute of your day. Are you under arrest yet?

Yep, your parents fight off night terrors imagining what theories you’re testing with that lab partner. They’ve become the kind of spineless ninnies they once despised, but the change is not irreversible. You can be brave for them. “But, Auntie Ta,” you say, “my parents want me to save myself for marriage. Stop laughing!”

Kids, please don’t make me tell you about how your parents learned special macrame knots at scout camp or about those parties in the prop room that involved a can of Spam and tap shoes. You’re going to date – preferably outside of your high school – and dating means coming into physical contact with another human being, on whom you will practice the little tricks that will make your adult sex life happy and well-adjusted. Cover up, pets! Just – don’t tell your parents, don’t get any diseases and don’t make any babies. They’re less hilarious than in the movies, and they’d remind your parents of the prom. Which reminds me: how’re your big brothers and sisters, anyhow?

Look, chances are super-good you’ll get nekkid and do the happy cha cha cha, then you’ll break up and feel heartbroken, and after that you’ll get nekkid and do the happy cha cha cha with someone else. You might not even be all that heartbroken, but anyway: the point is that worrying about where your Sweet Baboo has ba-been is a ba-big waste of time. Plus, what you’ve been safely up to is your own mmm-mmm-mmm biz.

Don your gloves and mittens, kids. You don’t have to lose your cool or your nerve when you get rid of that nonsense no one needs. So when your parents experiment with this crazy abstinence and shame thing, don’t forget it’s not too late for you to raise them right.