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HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM Erectile dysfunction is ascendant, so to speak. The Super Bowl displayed a trifecta of impotence potions as the makers of the three main drugs –- Levitra, Cialis, and Viagra-- all ponied up millions to advertise. Obscured by the debate about some of the cringe-making disclaimers – “if erection persists for more than four hours seek immediate medical attention” – has been the obvious question: why are erectile dysfunction drugs advertised on the Super Bowl at all?      Professional football has long been the high altar of American maleness. Everything about it celebrates warrior culture, physical dominance, and raw aggression. The same is true for NASCAR, another venue that impotence drug makers see as fertile ground. What’s going on here? Aren’t the wimps and sexual no-shows supposed to attending the Philharmonic and reading Spinoza? Shouldn’t Eli Lilly be sponsoring “Masterpiece Theater” rather than wasting its money on the NFL, and, as an aside, do Mike Ditka’s self-confessed problems correlate with the arc of his coaching career?      Popular culture often does offer a different perspective on where to look for real men. In “Something About Mary,” Tom Green’s high school football hero can’t get it up, while nebbishy Ben Stiller makes Cameron Diaz happy. And the drumbeat message of nearly every Woody Allen film is that beautiful women ultimately turn to short, whiny guys for ultimate fulfillment. Unfortunately, the message from popular culture is tainted by conflict-of-interest because it’s dweeby guys who make the television shows and films celebrating the sexual virtues of dweeby guys.      Nature, as always, offers crucial insights. Studies of chimp DNA have shown that while the alpha male and his aggressive pretenders are bluffing each other and fighting battles, junior and low-ranking males are regularly making assignations with the desirable females. Since there is evidence that female chimps choose the fathers of their offspring, and since reproduction is the only score that counts for evolutionary biologists, it’s game, set and match for Woody (can his name be a coincidence?) and his peers. So the question for football-worshipping guys has to be: what’s your girlfriend doing while you’re wrapped up in the big game? contact Eugene Linden

Short Take Summer Evenings in July   I go out to my porch, drink in hand, as the gloaming fades. I sit on a very comfortable rocking chair, given -- maybe loaned; it’s unclear -- by a friend. My cat, Noodles, joins me, settling on the couch facing me. He tends to his grooming, and I wait for the fireflies to appear. There are less every year and this is disquieting on an otherwise perfect night. I want them to be fruitful and multiply -- if possible by the millions. That would be a sign that, perhaps, all is well. It’s warm, and to my west is a wall of green, dominated by a very tall Linden. Hello, fellow Linden! As the warm air stills around me, emotions rise. I feel – I’m sure the Germans have a long word for it, but I’m too lazy to search on google – I feel… Something deep and strong; something like love for the world. It gives me hope for another day. read more

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