The Funk Is Not Forgiven

Do you feel ashamed every time a person, animal or plant dies whenever you walk by? Do you smell as if you’re carrying a supreme pizza inside your pocket protector? If you answer “yes” to these questions then you are one of many who suffer from a bad case of Armpiteoustinkeous, otherwise known as bad armpit odor. Ironically Armpiteoustinkeous doesn’t just come from the armpit, which only supports the theory of a wise man’s proverb that says, “sh!t doesn’t just come out of one end.”

Ordinarily I’d tell you Armpiteoustinkeous is nothing to be ashamed of, but because of a little discovery called soap, if you carry a foul odor, whether in the pits of your arms or some other place that would be offensive to some audiences, you should be ashamed of yourself because there is no reason for the funkage!

I’m not going to sit here and make fun of funky people. Some people don’t think their sh!t stinks. Understand that I’ve done my research, though. I know why a body stinks. I know about chemical imbalances and that anaerobic bacteria builds and flourishes on the skin when the body doesn’t produce enough oxygen. I know the whole process of the body doing what it does to make it do what it do; and that when metabolism is at work it creates an unpleasant smell as the body releases waste in the forms of sweat and butt burps. I get it. Stinking it natural. But if you were to hold a water gun full of prune juice to anybody’s throat and dared them to say the first word that comes to mind when they hear the words “cure for stink,” nine times out of ten the average person would say “soap!” And rightfully so.

Soap is rumored to be discovered as early back as the year 1000 B.C., by a group of Roman women who washed their garments in the river of the base of a mountain, below a higher elevation where animal sacrifice had taken place. Tales say that the animal fat when combined with the wood ashes and soils of the earth created a cleansing substance. The smartest person on the planet could whip out some proof of the Babylonian tablet that holds the formula of soap (water, alkali, and cassia oil), written somewhere along the lines of 2800 years before today. So I’ve been told, 2800 years is around the time of the beginning of the beginning. I don’t think there’s anyone alive today who can prove that theory to be wrong (except my ex girlfriend’s mother. She was born at the beginning of time and probably won’t die until she’s sucked the life out of every living creature on the planet, but that’s a story for another time). That in turn tells me that soap has been around since the beginning of time. I don’t care what came first – the chicken or the egg, soap has been around long enough for everyone to know what it does and when to go somewhere and use it.

Everyone knows that soap is the kryptonite to bacteria and people that wear their Monday tee shirts all week long; and folks that don’t wear socks with their shoes. Soap is the aspirin to those people who suffer headaches from their twelve hour deodorant that only lasts for four hours. Soap is the answer to stinky people’s problems as well as the answers to the prayers of the people who have to smell that sh!t. No matter of background – age, race, species, religion or any otherwise personal belief – soap is universal. It cleans. There is no reason why anyone’s ass or underarms should stink. Soap is a natural product that can be made. It’s insignificant enough to be borrowed and small enough to be lifted on a five-finger discount, if need be.

It’s a necessity as well as a consideration. Soap is the justice to the abomination of funk. It is a right comparable to respect and demand. It is the revelation to people that are omitted from cliques, left dateless on Friday nights, and always seem to have a seat to themselves on the metro. The “pew” face means the same thing in every language – Swahili, Bulgarian, Yiddish, Maltese, German, Spanish, English – you name it. Stink stinks and that ain’t right because that’s not the way things are meant to be. Soap, ladies and gentlemen, is the simple solution to the Armpiteoustinkeous epidemic.

Some can debate and defend why you stink and some can accept it, but most can’t forgive it.  Either way, if someone else smells you then you smell you, too.  For the love of mankind, “sticks and stones may break my bones but it’s your stench that’s killing me.”  Soap is to the body what laughter is to the soul. You can’t hit home any harder than that.  If you can’t clean ya’ ass for the sake of yourself or the people around you, then do it for the universe.  Keep the balance of nature in order or forever be cursed with a sterile social life.


Quote of the week:  “My wounds stink and are corrupt because of my foolishness.” -Psalm 38:5


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THROWBACK: Through the Eyes of a Laundromat Attendant

No man is an island; no matter how great or how small.  I repeat, “NO MAN IS AN ISLAND.”  …Especially and including the laundromat attendant.

The laundromat attendant is the one man on the planet that no one notices until they need him.  And though he speaks with a voice of an army, he is yet never heard.  From day to night he doesn’t just clean the grimy residue from communal washing machines.  He gains the knowledge of man.

With nothing to do but scrub scorching dryer handles and mop lint from the corners of the floor, the laundromat attendant spends all of his extra spare minutes observing the behavior of the average man and woman, delving into the core of the inner person they are trying to hide and protect from the outside world.  To anyone who doesn’t get paid to be ignored inside a laundromat, laundry facilities aren’t just for washing clothes.  They are also intended to wash away secrets.

From the average working mother to the most cunning con artist on the block, the laundromat attendant has seen and heard it all;

Parents who bring their kids with them to wash clothes but lets them run wild like ferrets. 

To the common eye those kids are just wildly out of control and the mother doesn’t have a grip.  But through the eyes of a laundromat attendant, he sees a woman who doesn’t give a damn about how noisy and wild her kids are because subconsciously she wants the whole damn world to know what she goes through every day.  I guess it’s true what they say, “Misery loves company.”

 


Panhandlers and Hustlers  

I don’t care who you are or where you wash clothes, there’s always someone who’s trying to sell something.  The laundromat is no different from the barber shop or the beauty salon.  Anywhere a person is sitting around waiting to spend money, there rests someone begging to take it.

But through the eyes of a laundromat attendant, these panhandlers and hustlers aren’t just begging scavengers trying to make a quick buck.  They are underdeveloped individuals who haven’t matured to a basic level of “common sense.”  What the attendant observes is a man [or sometimes a woman] who is not capable enough to realize that they are doing nothing but wishful thinking if they believe people who scraped up their last hard saved quarters all week long are going to be distracted, side tracked, or even stupid enough to actually buy what they’re selling.  They do not understand the meaning of rejection and denial and therefore should be declared unstable specimen who simply can’t help themselves.

You and I don’t want to hear that sh*t but we’re not looking through our eyes, are we?


The lady who calls everyone she knows to tell them that she’s at the laundromat.

Most laundromat visitors go to the facility with one goal in mind: to wash their clothes.  Because the place is public, everyone knows that there’s no guess as to who or what you may see while there.  From intrusive conversations with strangers, to bad attitudes of husbands, wives, and often more, bitter single people who get life from staring at other people’s pre-washed unmentionables.

The attendant sees it all.  And the one who stands out the most is the lady who puts out a public service announcement to everyone that she knows to let them know that she’s in the laundromat.  To the common eye she’s just loud and annoying.  But through the eyes of a laundromat attendant, she is merely conveying an illusion of importance when deep down she’s a lonely woman who can’t accept the fact that no one gives a sh*t about where she is or what she’s doing.  This act screams, “Dependency issues!”

No one realizes that great power comes from observation.  And there are only two types of people that have such power: Parking attendants and Laundromat attendants.  Through the joy of people-watching, though in trade of suffering the consequences of alienation, underestimation, and custodial abuse, the one person that you don’t think about is the very person who knows most about the demons you try to wash away.

Damn.


Quote of the week:   “Reason, observation, and experience; the holy trinity of science.”