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.