Sunday Clean-up

Countless cleaning products claim to, "Eliminate 99.9% of all germs!" If these products do, indeed, leave our untidy lives immaculately tidy, then why are we beholden to the fact that we must clean again? This is why I find Sunday clean-up pointless.

Are we that blissfully ignorant to the fact that we can never truly clean? Furthermore, are we destined to clean the same mess until we can not clean anymore? If these cleaning products claim to kill 99.9% of all germs, why is it not also added that in a matter of seconds 99.9% of the germs will be back? We are adroit to the fact that if we do not clean religiously every week, we will fall into the unruly perils of untidy living.

This makes us bound to the implacable reality that we can never be content; and, yet, in vain we try each week to obtain the stainless perfection so striven for. It is disheartening to know that even when we seemed satisfied, the nagging probability is there that once we fulfill the temporary, we can never truly be satisfied.

Who says classic literature and kinky sex can't go together?

I wonder what results Crime and Punishment gets. Whoopisha.

Some truly 'touching' moments from Capitol Hill.

Yes I'm super late at pointing this out, but I haven't read the messages until now. Next time I molest little boys, I'll defiantly remember to delete my message history.

For being a U.S. Representative I'd expect better grammar, Foley. Tisk, Tisk. I'm not sure what's more disturbing, the fact that you're discussing touching your page's pee-pee or the deplorable grammar; yeah, I think I'll go with the pee-pee touching:

Maf54 (8:03:47 PM): what you wearing

Xxxxxxxxx (8:04:04 PM): normal clothes

Xxxxxxxxx (8:04:09 PM): tshirt and shorts

Maf54 (8:04:17 PM): um so a big buldge

Xxxxxxxxx (8:04:35 PM): ya

Maf54 (8:04:45 PM): um

Maf54 (8:04:58 PM): love to slip them off of you

P.S. Shame on you, Denis Hastert. You knew about this for how long? Because you know these kinds of things, statutory rape and such, tend slip one's mind.

Wal*Mart: Killing my soul, always.

Wal*Mart is without exaggeration one of the most evil places I've been to in a long time. Anyone who does not agree is lying, or has not truly seen its true evil. It is the type of evil unlike, say, Star Jones or Satan. This is a palpable evil; an evil that follows you because this is reality. One can not dispute that Wal*Mart is not pleasing to the senses: the psyche-ward white ceiling unrelentingly burning into one's retinas, the headache-inducing pleas for Susan to come to the customer help center, the gnawing cries of children's shattered dreams of having McDonald's for dinner, the vests (oh god, the vests); in general, a swarming cesspool of bad taste. Sure, Wal*Mart's monopoly on low-cost crap is great. But it is worth your sole? Your SANITY? Oh capitalism, you bitch.

. . .This said, I gots me some more jelly for my jelly samiches for $1! Mmm...jelly samiches.