If you've ever tried to jam a dried sausage into a crack in your drywall for reasons that are irrelevant to the rest of this article, you're well aware that this is not going to happen without the addition of some lubricant. It's been our friend and helper ever since the first caveman spit on his fist so he could jam it into a Stegosaursus' heiny to facilitate wielding the animal like a mighty, screaming weapon.

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In the present, we all appreciate what lube can do for us, and it's barely even worth a giggle anymore. I think they sell it at Wal-Mart. It's so unremarkable, you can lube your junk at Wal-Mart. But here's the thing: As a society we've never questioned lube before. We see those terrible KY commercials and we wish that the actors in them and the writers behind them would never know the joys of love again, but we don't ask for details because it's assumed we know the gist of what's going on and that, in turn, also implies that we know said lube may one day be used on a solo run. It's cool. We all know it, and the world keeps on turning.

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And then someone made a product called "Masturbation Cream." Is that a proper way to start a paragraph? Gods no. And it's a horrible way to name a product. Listen, anything with a viscosity somewhere between tap water and toothpaste is properly masturbation cream in waiting, it doesn't need to be called out publicly though. You just use it for that purpose and then go back to Star Wars Angry Birds after petting the dog to clean your hand like a normal person.

The website for Stroke 29, which is the proper name for the lube du jour here, features this image: