As Harry Callahan has taught us, man’s got to know his limitations.
Shills for asexuality are foredoomed to reenact Hitler’s favorite joke:
Hitler: My dog’s got no nose!
Soldier: How does he smell?
It has been settled over two millennia, that “there are some eunuchs, who were so born from their mother’s womb: and there are some eunuchs, who were made eunuchs of men: and there are eunuchs, who have made themselves eunuchs for the kingdom of heaven’s sake.” But any kind of eunuch who won’t stop complaining about our inauthentic celebration of sex, wields no more authority than the blind grousing about our gaudy garb or the deaf clamoring against our cacophonous conversation.