A lot happened this week, but it all felt weird to write about.

Kanye West, for example, went to the annual Met Gala while wearing blue contact lenses like something out of a Toni Morrison novel. Presumably, he was hoping to look like either a wolf or a robot or an older, richer version of Hopsin; but apparently when E! asked him about the contacts, Kanye just said, "Vibes," and walked away. I guess, though, that his new look made a statement? Or at least some people thought he made a statement? Or something? Because racism is everywhere and that affects our interpretation of everything?

(Rick Vodicka)
(Rick Vodicka)

I think it's interesting that, regardless of intent, the presence of oppression can, in some ways, outweigh an individual's agency when it comes to matters of perceived artistic expression. But this column is published online by a newspaper based in Portland, Oregon, and I can't afford to talk about race for three columns in a row without losing my whole entire audience.

I briefly considered writing about how Donald Trump, the increasingly presumptive Republican presidential nominee, did some abhorrently racist shit regarding a taco bowl and a Cinco De Mayo tweet. But everyone already knows that Trump is a bigoted douche, so it doesn't seem worth going over again. Saying that Donald Trump is racist is like saying, "Hey, no matter what happens, Bernie Sanders is gonna disappoint you."

We all already know.

So then I thought, "You know what? Maybe I'll write about gender-neutral bathrooms and whatnot. That's a subject that's been in the news a fair amount recently, and it seems like it would be pretty easy to write a few self-aggrandizing paragraphs regarding how accepting I am about stuff. Plus, if I write a really solid piece about how people should be chill and all bathrooms should be for everybody, I'll get a bunch of Liberal Brownie Points. And, as everyone knows, male feminism subsists on a currency of Brownie Points."

I started writing with the best of intentions, because it's important for us to challenge systems that can't be tolerant and to discuss whatever fears keep us from enacting change. I even did my best to come up with a few pithy taglines about the subject, my favorite of which was: Piss where you want for the sake of tomorrow.

But then I actually started researching the issue and learned that, while many straight and cis communities are still struggling just to understand that gender is not merely a binary, many queer communities that are already open and inclusive to various identities believe that it's important for women of all genders and sexes to have intentional spaces they can feel safe in, which complicates notions of gender neutrality in a bathroom setting. And then I started doing all this reading and finding all these links that led into a wormhole of books that I should read before I'm be able to form an informed opinion, and suddenly I ended up with the first few pages of a convoluted thesis I have no right to write.

And even if I did have the breadth of knowledge required for such an undertaking, it seemed there was no safe way to broach all those subjects in the week's worth of time I had to write this column because I had to have a three-hour long conversation with my girlfriend about the most comprehensive language to use as an ally while still being intelligible to the general public just to type the first sentence of this paragraph; and now neither of us knows if sex or race is really real, but we still know what sex and race we identify as and I am immensely confused. But she says that's a good thing.

All this reading and writing and discussion of gender dynamics and the irrelevance of genitalia in the consideration of identity brought so much to the forefront of my mind, which is good. It's important to think and be challenged. It's also super exhausting to think and be challenged. At the end of it all, I really just wanted to have sex and drink a beer. But there wasn't time for both. I wished – oh, how I wished – that somehow I could combine all the comfort of a vagina with all the sensuality of beer. And then, as I scoured the net for a solution, I came across something both awesome and terrifying:

Some European company is making beer out of pussy juice.

The Order of Yoni ("yoni" being Sanskrit for "vagina," and debatably the oldest word for pussy known to man) is a beer company willing to make your wildest fantasies come true, assuming your wildest fantasies involve lactic acid, gynecological sticks, and sour ales.

If you go to their website for additional information, the company – which, horrifyingly enough, refers to itself in the third person as "The Order" – tells, in somewhat broken English, of how they have, "prepared technology making creation of such unique beer possible. The beer containing quintessence of femininity. The technology enabling materializing her loveliness, gracefulness and character, giving you the possibility of conversion of a tasty beer into a date with real goddess."

Using a vague, scientific system that I'm sure probably occurs in a lab and not some sad, single dude's pentagram-riddled garage, The Order not only brews beers complete with the "quintessence of femininity," but also assures all beers are safe for consumption. Which is comforting, because as any 8th grade sex-ed teacher can tell you, you're not just drinking one woman's sexual fluids, you're drinking the fluids of every sexual partner she's ever had.

You can even send your own vaginal swabs to The Order by mail. They'll use some of the swab to brew booze. The rest, they'll probably use in some spell dedicated to resurrecting the Antichrist.

The Order is still in its infant stages of being a company/probable cult, and they're still hoping to receive some crowd funding. While I'm no marketing guru, here are my proposed product slogans to help speed up the donation process:

• Yoni: Why eat pussy when you can drink it?

• Yoni: Real men swallow.

• Yoni: Cultured bacteria for classy guys.

• Yoni: Beer pong? More like beer………………… thong.

• Yoni: Hey, have you ever seen the movie Perfume?

• Yoni: *a stranger breathes heavily on the back of your neck*

• Grab yourself a hot piece of ass and a cold glass of Yoni.

I've been going back and forth on how I feel about this product since I learned of its existence. Honestly, if you told me I could get a buzz on by sipping some Czech model's frothy vaginal secretions, I'd be squeamish but down. I've had Mad Dog 20/20 before, so you're not gonna scare me off booze just because it's made out of human-smoothie. And while this product gives me some reservations, far be it for me to shame someone for trying something new (even though that's exactly what I'm doing). There's nothing wrong with tasting vagina, but I dunno. Going that extra mile and turning it into beer seems wrong. Personally, I'd be up for barrel aged vaginal bourbon, but something about beer seems particularly off.

But The Order expected some reprisal and took certain pre-emptive measures to assure their adoring fans/future victims that brewing beer made of sex-juice is a matter of respect. Because, apparently, if you're going to do something as seemingly serial killer-esque as harvesting vaginal fluid for the purpose of creating a quality craft brew, the best defense is to bring up your mother.

The Order states that, "vaginal lactobacillus bacteria are transferred from a mother to a child during childbirth, so mother's Yoni bacteria are becoming part of child's immune system. The Order believes the beer is a tribute to our mothers and a tribute to the act of childbirth. It is far, far from disrespect for a woman."

The site's English may be far from perfect, but I believe the sentiment transcends language: Drinking beer made from a gorgeous Czech woman's vaginal secretions is unarguably exactly the same as being birthed by your mom.

Have a happy Mother's Day.