I got this e-mail forward from my aunt and uncle this morning that had a bunch of advertisements from the 1930s. Unbelievable doesn't quite describe them. It's more like, What. The. FUCK?!
This one was particularly disturbing:
Excuse me, did you just recommend I squirt bathroom cleaner up my vag? The same stuff I use to spray on doorknobs to kill cold and flu germs and mop my kitchen floor with...while wearing GLOVES? Yes, gloves, to protect the skin on my hands – a recommendation on the bottle.
Then, since it's so economical, I just use the same mop water in my douchebag! And, it's so gentle that it only causes third degree chemical burns on my hoo ha, yet I know its working. Thanks Lysol!
Nope, nope, never in my life have I said, 'I bet that Lysol I have under my sink that I use to dissolve soap scum would be great for killing all that Rhinovirus and Salmonella camping out in my 'gine.' OK, maybe once, but it was a fleeting thought...
Do women who lived in the '30s even still have vaginas? Or do they just have this patch of scarred up, unrecognizable flesh where their Lysol-tastic vags used to be? When their granddaughters asked them about the Great Depression, did they also mention other...ahem...personal losses?
'Yes, dear, I too was a victim of the Great Lysol Douche Hoax of 1936. Don’t let it happen to you.'
So, does this mean it was common to hear a woman in the 1930s scream in agony from the bathroom, then have her husband smile to himself and say, 'hell yeah, I'm getting some nice disinfected ass tonight!'
Well, probably not that last part, since we all know that "unyielding web of indifference" isn’t because Tom's wife's ladyparts lack the distinct aroma of a freshly scrubbed shower – it's because he's banging the babysitter...or Steve in accounting.
Oh, and P.S., I'd like to know where the ad is recommending men dip their balls in Clorox Bleach, because, ya know, women really dig a man who cleanses thoroughly.