I address this urgent dispatch to all Canadian sex shops.
A Toronto adult emporium named Bonjibon was in the news this week. Bonjibon sounds like a French pastry house. But after clicking around its website, I did not see any eclairs, macarons or mille-feuille. What I did see was peace on Earth.
Bonjibon received two letters from the U.S. Department of Defense last year. It seems the Pentagon wants Bonjibon to stop sending butt plugs to Bahrain.
Soldiers stationed at a U.S. naval base were likely unaware they had purchased items prohibited in the Gulf kingdom. Those deliveries were intercepted. Or as the subject line reads in one letter to Bonjibon: “Adult item Identified during X-Ray Mail Screening.”
You can imagine perplexed military scanners peering at their monitors: “Is that a Glock? Open the box. What the hell is a Renegade Mach 2 with remote control?”
Grace Bennett, co-founder of Bonjibon, was interviewed by CTV News this week.
“I don’t know why they’re sending me very cross letters saying, ‘Stop sending items that could cause bodily harm to this country,’” she told the network. “This sounds like a you problem. The call was coming from inside the house.”
That last sentence is key to this urgent dispatch.
If one Canadian sex shop can trigger panic and confusion at one U.S. base, imagine a national effort in which our sex shops band together and flood every U.S. base with free bedroom toys to gum up the foxholes.
America won’t have time for imperial conquest when four-star generals are tied up in emergency NSC meetings about “plungers” and “spinnators.”
Other nations should join Canada in Project Anal Tickler. Greenland? Start manufacturing dildos emblazoned with cryptic messages in Kalaallisut. Send them directly to Pete Hegseth. This guy has already banned beards and put the fatties on notice. He wants women out of combat. Beaded Nipple Clamps and a Bounce Squatter Sex Stool will drive him back to the bottle.
That buys both of us more time before any insane invasion.
This is why our sex shops must act. Not for profit. Not for pleasure. But for global peace. We should send crates of Rated R products to every U.S. service member. This will baffle senior leadership. Let the colonels debate combat readiness after they are notified entire platoons are in the barracks for some alone time with lube and Karma Lilac Bullets.
History teaches us empires fall from distractions. Rome had bread and circuses. The Mongols had internecine squabbles over what to wear during land disputes. The Kardashian Empire will come crashing down after one last Photoshop fail.
America’s implosion will vibrate and be waterproof.
Imagine the Pentagon on a Tuesday morning. Instead of plotting the next coup or pillaging of natural resources, it is in lockdown as commanders stare at PowerPoint slides about host-nation sensitivities and more rubberized contraband found inside global mail rooms.
Canada is uniquely qualified for this mission. From Nickelback to Hawaiian pizza, we already export confusion. Show an American a bag of milk and they will act like they are in the presence of a talking bagel.
Show a general any item on the Bonjibon website and — boom! — baffled inertia that brings the world’s most lethal fighting force to a grinding halt with a moan.
Based on the product shots, I honestly couldn’t identify many Bonjibon wares. There was something that looked like a feather duster with rubber tassels. There was a synthetic starfish with … facial hieroglyphics? In a promo reel, everything is spinning and pulsating and pumping up and down like a startled meerkat.
Even the literature would befuddle the Pentagon. Hegseth’s eyes would get saucer big as he opened UPS boxes and read titles aloud such as, “My Vag: A Rhyming Coloring Book.”
The Department of Defense was diverted by a discreetly wrapped brown box from Toronto? The world’s biggest superpower was writing stern letters about butt plugs? Keep it going.
Sending sex toys to every U.S. military postal code isn’t a provocation — it’s cunning sabotage.
If the Pentagon is busy intercepting carnal joy and explaining itself to Bahrain customs, it has less time to destabilize the Western hemisphere. Call it MAD: Mutually Assured Distraction.
Our goal must be to export our private parts paraphernalia until every American general is forced to sheepishly place calls on secure lines and blitz underlings with perplexed queries: “What is a Shotpocket Pleasure Sleeve? Can we use this Apothecary Oil with Fractionated Coconut on the M1 Abrams turbine engine?”
There is no point in trying to reason with this U.S. administration. It is hostile to rules, norms and laws. But it is prone to distraction, the secret sauce in all reality shows that never end. And nothing distracts quite like boxes of adult toys that keep showing up at military bases.
It is time for Canada’s sex shops to lean in hard to our soft power.
