Unwashed: At least Disney gives you soap

Well, I haven't blogged in quite some time, but I'm back. Back from the World of Disney, where Barb and I took the kids for what was undoubtedly the best time of their lives, and one of the worst for me. I suppose it's bad for me to say that Disney scares the crap out of me, how every experience you have there (aside from the long lines and high ticket prices) is basically stuffed down your throat -- no clocks, no exits, no problems, no reality-based commentary, just song after song of happiness and love, huge dancing puppets, and five million ways to part with your money. Ingenious. It's like Christmas. Or the Bush Administration.

At least we were clean in the World of Disney, though. When we got back, Barb joined a group called the American Family Association, which intends to "motivate and equip citizens to change the culture." Whatever that means. At any rate, it motivated and equipped Barb to change the culture of cleanliness at home. Because of Proctor & Gamble's supposed backing of the "homosexual agenda" (which, as far as I can tell, judging from Barb's rare moments of lucidity, is evidenced by P&G's advertising during Will & Grace) we have boycotted all of P&G's products. I never knew how far P&G's products go toward keeping you smelling nice and fresh, but let's just say that our house, our bodies, our children smell like a used jock strap in summertime, forgotten in a plastic-lined duffel bag for weeks in the back of the car you always park outside in the sun. Unzip that duffel bag, and you've got my house. The neighbors have started to complain, but tend to back off when Barb starts warning them about the homosexual agenda that is aimed at their kids. Too bad Barb doesn't watch more Will & Grace, or she'd know our little Bobby is turning into a little fruitcake under her watch. A smelly fruitcake, but a fruitcake all the same. I'm not going to mention it to her -- she'll murder me -- but I'm going to enjoy watching her fail to notice.