Formosan Termites and Saddam’s Toothbrush are the Last Straw
Things I’d rather not know about, thank you:
What’s still on my pillowcase after putting it through the washing machine on the super duper, no flug left behind cycle.
Whether George W. and Laura Bush’s twin daughters are still virgins.
What is it that the dog dug up in the backyard and just now deposited in the middle of the kitchen floor.
Whether Saddam brushes his teeth every morning before heading off to another day at the trial and, if so, what brand of toothpaste does he use.
The true meaning of the steady trickle of black water emerging from under the ancient oil-fired furnace in the basement.
If medical researchers develop an effective AIDS vaccine, will the FDA smother it in bureaucratic red tape, just like the morning-after Plan B drug.
Is there really a horde of Formosan termites hitching rides to destinations throughout the country via cheap mulch made from hurricane Katrina debris.
The dog has just deposited something else from the backyard on the kitchen floor and it’s writhing about. (The thing, not the dog.) Now what do I do?