A women’s bathroom
The tiles glazed an opalescent white
Polished by orthodontic hands
Cold and smooth, refreshingly clean
Ventilated and fresh, no hint of mildew
The sweet scent of the woman’s bathroom
Untainted by male musk and stank
As if women defecated only rose petals and doves
As we always dreamed they did
The rows of shampoo bottles enhanced, purified, and abundant
And their lady in waiting, conditioner, as plentiful as their liege
You open the frosted speckles pain
Sliding unfettered, as if greased with ambrosia
Into a bathtub covered in razors
2/01/2007
The Jew Hater
I sat in his Jew office, a mockery of a real office, with his pictures of family and friends, and his pagan idols, marked with "Employee of the month" and " Award for continuing service" no doubt given to him to appease his heathen lust for polytheism.
Where are the crucifie and icons to remind you of G-d's glory, the Virgin Mary and the relicquaries that give form to our belief in G-d's son who these people killed.
The Jew. I call him that because to me they all look alike,came in, in his Jew garb. I mean who wears a suit and tie these days.
" Well everything seems to be in order, I'll show you to your cubicle" so like a Jew, putting a G-d fearing Christian in a cube, too good to share his office with little ole me, "Jew" I muttered.
"What?" He asked with his Jew lips, I said " I said 'you', you lovable rascal" I hated myself for that.
He showed me a cubicle with a phone, a computer, and a stack of papers. The Jew left me with instructions and his worthless Jew Thanks. I promptly opened minesweeper, sat back, and waited for the rapture I knew would set things right.
Where are the crucifie and icons to remind you of G-d's glory, the Virgin Mary and the relicquaries that give form to our belief in G-d's son who these people killed.
The Jew. I call him that because to me they all look alike,came in, in his Jew garb. I mean who wears a suit and tie these days.
" Well everything seems to be in order, I'll show you to your cubicle" so like a Jew, putting a G-d fearing Christian in a cube, too good to share his office with little ole me, "Jew" I muttered.
"What?" He asked with his Jew lips, I said " I said 'you', you lovable rascal" I hated myself for that.
He showed me a cubicle with a phone, a computer, and a stack of papers. The Jew left me with instructions and his worthless Jew Thanks. I promptly opened minesweeper, sat back, and waited for the rapture I knew would set things right.
The Importance of Fabric softener
One often belittles the fabric softener, many manly men tossing it aside as a women's extravagance.
One MUST understand it does more then soften, much more.
It Prevents static my friend, the scourge of any bed sheet.
One moment your looking at your wife snug in her sheets, the next they're lit with saint elmo's fire, and then all the manly men in the world won't stop the screaming.
The same electricity they use in lightening my friend, they say it cooks you from the inside.
During my time as a traveling lighting rod salesman many people said " Sure my house is protected..." I wish they would finish, because I would say nothing. The product speaks for itself; instead they just pull out a shotgun and the chase is on.
Why Thor and Dr. Zeus ever thought it was a good idea I will never know, the apes and Norse have always been mysterious, so like us.
I believe there are worlds without softener , worlds of endless crags, bathed in the twilight of dying twin suns and lit with the constant arcing of static which are consumed by eyeless hairless monsters, boiling their old blood for food in the fiery blast furnaces they call stomachs. Pools of acid storing this insane energy, filled with gnashing eels and worms. Froglike men harpooning them and eating them raw and still alive. Fungal blooms clog the air and find root in all that is living, deforming their victims, choking them, the only cure being the crucible of terrible energy allowed to coarse through them, burning away the parasites. Yellow crusted land crabs praying to a burnt red sky, scored with jagged white light.
Lucky for you my friend we live in a softer world, and I happen to have my last box of softener right here and I'll sell it for...WHAT THE HELL AM I SAYING, its mine, get away, I'm not going back, I'm not going back...
One MUST understand it does more then soften, much more.
It Prevents static my friend, the scourge of any bed sheet.
One moment your looking at your wife snug in her sheets, the next they're lit with saint elmo's fire, and then all the manly men in the world won't stop the screaming.
The same electricity they use in lightening my friend, they say it cooks you from the inside.
During my time as a traveling lighting rod salesman many people said " Sure my house is protected..." I wish they would finish, because I would say nothing. The product speaks for itself; instead they just pull out a shotgun and the chase is on.
Why Thor and Dr. Zeus ever thought it was a good idea I will never know, the apes and Norse have always been mysterious, so like us.
I believe there are worlds without softener , worlds of endless crags, bathed in the twilight of dying twin suns and lit with the constant arcing of static which are consumed by eyeless hairless monsters, boiling their old blood for food in the fiery blast furnaces they call stomachs. Pools of acid storing this insane energy, filled with gnashing eels and worms. Froglike men harpooning them and eating them raw and still alive. Fungal blooms clog the air and find root in all that is living, deforming their victims, choking them, the only cure being the crucible of terrible energy allowed to coarse through them, burning away the parasites. Yellow crusted land crabs praying to a burnt red sky, scored with jagged white light.
Lucky for you my friend we live in a softer world, and I happen to have my last box of softener right here and I'll sell it for...WHAT THE HELL AM I SAYING, its mine, get away, I'm not going back, I'm not going back...
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