And Now To Get Your Sick, Naughty Little Minds Firmly In The Gutter Where It Well And Truly Belongs

      Take a moment and consider the dimensions of this story, in which huge quantities of a gooey substance ends up all over something named after a beaver.   Oh, God truly is an ironist.   Lather up!

      (For those of you that have never worked in a shampoo factory, well, let's just say it's, er, um, eh, hmmm, "not pleasant." Especially not when it gets dirty and crusts over, he adds shutting his eyes in perverse despair.   About the only thing worse is dealing with vats, slightly larger than Lichtenstein, of Crisco.   That would scar your imagination for life, I assure you.)