'Boneless Buffalo Wings' - What's the point?

I came across this during my daily computer meanderings:

Eunuchs united: In July, Uttar Pradesh Eunuchs Association, in Lucknow, India, demanded that the district magistrate and the senior superintendent of police order cops to begin exposing fake eunuchs by lifting their skirts to verify their status. Charlatans, according to the group, deprive real eunuchs of ''legitimate'' income (a large part of which derives from eunuchs' entering places of business and private parties, exposing themselves and otherwise being obnoxious, and demanding a fee to leave). - Compiled by Chuck Shepherd

This is, obviously, quite amusing. The issue of eunichs has fascinated me for a while, now. Besides the 'procedure' (the thought of which causes the hair on the back of my neck to stand up straight, pull itself out, and resettle in the depths of my back in fear of the distant possibility that Nick could be an androgynous dandy)...wait, is there anything that concerns me besides the procedure? My assumption is that the Eunichs went out with the old Hellenic and Roman empires - after all, Catholic Priests and sexually-repressed androgynous men can't exist at the same time - they occupy the same social niche. And it's bad in that many eunichs were made that way at birth, robbing them of the opportunity to have awkward adolescent encounters with the opposite sex - although Shakira didn't exist back then, leaving all those urges and chemical imbalances with an unrequited focus. My friend Sarah once told me that there are many Eunichs in Pakistan. They supposedly do a lot of the child-rearing, then go out clubbing at night wearing clothing of the woman of the house. This sounded bizzare to me, especially in a country renowned for beheading anyone who didn't strictly adhere to a narrow interpretation of a particularly overbearded and sexually repressed religion. That reminds me of a former co-worker of mine who decided to get a vasectomy. We all urged him to change his mind, as it's best 'not to screw with the equipment down there.' I think that human males have this biologically programmed into our genetics. Yet his wife wanted him to do it, and he acquiesced to her dominance. He spent the next week sitting on a bag of ice, frequently whimpering in pain. We whould have gloated, but such an occasion can only bring empathy tinged with fear that one day we might be that man. His other mistake was going to a urologist by the name of Dr. Richard Chop.