dale bridges

Somewhere out there in the real world–at this very moment–there is a person looking at this blawg who is naked.

Naked, naked, naked.

Perhaps they just got out of the shower and couldn’t wait to read the super-hilarious series of progressive sentences that that scamp, Dale Bridges, had written on The Internets. “No need to worry,” they thought to themself. “I’ll just catch a quick peek at this new blawg entry and then I’ll put my pantaloons back on, posthaste. No one will ever know!” Or perhaps they are the more  brazen type, who ripped off every stitch of clothing as soon as they walked through the door this evening and thought, “Yes! After a long day toiling in the trenches of this military-industrial complex we call America, I shall assert my civil rights at last and saunter around my castle unclothed! Take that, Obama!”

In any case, I do not care how it happened. The fact is that you are reading this sentence with your dangly parts all exposed, and I won’t have it. As a Powerless Voice On The Internets, I insist that you go to your room and cover yourself immediately. And don’t put on any of that see-through Victoria Secret stuff, either. I’m talking full-body wool pajamas. I don’t care how hot it is in your neck of the woods: I said wool pajamas.

You should be ashamed of yourself.