Right now, I'm living in a nice fluffy Nerf world where nobody important stuffs secret things in his pants, socks, or anywhere else. If I leave the fluffy world, I think about things like:
- "Who has put pubic hair on my Top Secret codeword document?"
- "The Senator would like to thank you for your advisory service to his campaign...but he has asked for your resignation, because the documents you supplied smell like feet."
- "Well Dan, with proper lubrication, you can hide almost anything almost anywhere."
This is all Ken Starr's fault. 18 months of thongs and vaginal cigars and sink ejaculations left permanent naughty scars on my internal political Viewmaster.
I feel so dirty.
