Carwash Conspiracy

Conspiracy theorists are often treated with disdain by the more skeptical members of our society. And given the rather far-fetched nature of many of their theories, this is only as it should be. I've often said that a President that can't cover up a blow job isn't capable of keeping the lid on an elegantly constructed conspiracy.

But I have come up with my own theory that warrants open-minded examination. I arrived at my conclusions after repeated visits to the local carwash.

Brace yourself for a stunning revelation.

Our government is testing top-secret, highly sensitive technologies at carwashes. This is the only satisfactory explanation for the recurring phenomena that I have experienced when washing vehicles at our local Mr. Suds.

Every time I visit Mr. Suds - every time - I somehow fail to finish my wash job before my time runs out. This happens independently of the number of quarters I put into the slot. It also happens regardless of whether I attempt a short touch-up with high-pressure soap and a quick rinse, or a long, luxurious scrub for my ride with the foaming brush.

The foaming brush is one of the more nefarious operators in this conspiracy. It spits out a bright pink foam that any red-blooded man would be mortified to be seen driving around covered in. Naturally, only when the vehicle is completely encased in this effeminate outrage does the buzzer go off, alerting the user to his impending doom. How quickly can you put away the brush, switch over to the high-pressure rinse, and grab the wand to rinse away all the offending soap?

Not quickly enough, it seems. This is where the insidious technologies being tested at Mr. Suds come in. Sophisticated sensors detect how many quarters you have in your vehicle and contrive to end your aspirations to cleanliness prematurely. These sensors can also detect whether you have bills or a credit card on your person, forcing you to use the credit-card reader or the bill-changer to purchase yet another wash to complete the initial one.

Coincidentally, it will require all of the bills in your wallet to complete your wash job.

And if you don't have plastic or paper on you, and are forced to drive off in abject humiliation in a pink and fluffy 4x4 truck, the sole eyesore on a busy arterial street in your hometown? I can attest to this outcome.

One is, indeed, the loneliest number.

Immigration Problem - Or Opportunity?

Events at work have inspired me to share my own solution to the immigration problem in the United States.

First, some background on my philosophy. It has been said (by me, at least) that the devil loves a patriot. Think about it. You've got about as much reason to be proud of your nationality as you have to be proud of your race. It didn't require any effort on your part to be American, British, French or Mexican if you were born on each respective country's soil. Legal immigrants, on the other hand, have to pass a test. As a friend of mine put it, the only thing he had to pass to become an American was the space between his mother's thighs.

And you share the distinction of being an American with lots of other unsavory people. Rapists. Serial murderers. Politicians. Lawyers. People that talk in the movie theater.

This situation is hardly unique to the United States. There are good folks in other countries, and bad folks. Human nature is the same the world over.

So here's my thinking. Some hard-working people want to cross the border from Mexico to work in the U.S. Some brilliant engineers want to give up their Indian citizenship to create things across the Pacific. Some Japanese programmers want to bring over their programming knowledge and their love of girls in school uniforms with short skirts.

So why don't we let them? Except maybe the school uniform bit. I'm sort of ambivalent on that.

Here's the twist, though: we start a trade program. Folks on the dole for too long get put on a list for the exchange; the longer any able-bodied person is on the list, the closer to the top his or her name gets. Heck, we could probably even afford a two-for-one deal. Either way, really; two unproductive losers for one useful person, or one social leech for two outstanding members of society. We can still use extras on this side of the pond. We've got plenty of room. And most of the successful folks in our country don't even replace themselves any more, much less have enough kids to buoy the pyramid-schemed Social Security retirement plan we're all forced to participate in.

Think about it. Then send this blog post to your next duly elected representative.

But leave out the part about politicians.