I don't often quote poetry, but this seems apropos.

 Turning and turning in the widening gyre
 The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
 Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
 Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
 The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
 The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
 The best lack all conviction, while the worst
 Are full of passionate intensity.
 Surely some revelation is at hand;
 Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
 The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
 When a vast image out of "Spiritus Mundi"
 Troubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert
 A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
 A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
 Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
 Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds.
 The darkness drops again; but now I know
 That twenty centuries of stony sleep
 Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
 And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
 Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

 -- William Butler Yeats, "The Second Coming"

Get Smooved | The Onion - America's Finest News Source
Then, when we have each finished eating our meals, I will lay your body down on a bedsheet comprised of 100 percent silk, which I will purchase in advance from the finest store in this city. Then, just before we freak, I will inquire as to how you like the feel of the sheets. If you inform me that you do not like it, I will travel to other cities around the world until I locate a store that sells sheets that are more to your satisfaction. Then, I will purchase those sheets and return home to put them on the bed for you. It is then that I will hit you doggy-style.


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21 September 2007