Every so often, a time comes in a man’s life when he must stand up for who he is. He must fight for his right not to speak, or to love, but to even exist. He must go forth in battle against forces so unquestionably vile that, were he to stand by and do nothing, he could only be branded an accomplice to evil. World War II was one of those times; a time when a black force spread thickly over Europe, and only the wills of those that stood against it saved humanity from a time of unparalleled darkness and strife.
Today, to, is one of those times.
For today, my friends, is the day of laundry.
Today I ride off to face down legions upon legions of soiled clothes, which have been festering in their bag, biding their time, and growing ever more pungent for one, two, perhaps even three weeks. One of us, be it the laundry or me, will not make it to see the Super Bowl tonight. Pray God that I may find myself sitting on that couch, drowing my horrid memories of this day in chips and salsa.
Ye can take me detergent, but ye’ll nevah take…me FREEDOM!
-Jester, lazy, housework-impaired college student at large.
