The Evil would like you to ponder the above picture of a sign taped to the door of the men’s room in his office. (And before you begin bitching about the blurriness, note that this picture was taken on Evil’s iPhone. It’s not like he was going to traipse into the john with his dSLR.)
Now let’s close in a little, get a tight shot of the illustration and focus in on the reason the Evil (or anyone) would be taking pictures in a bathroom that didn’t involve that unbelievably long and intact turd you just dropped in the toilet. (You have got to win that bet!) And . . . there:
Cute little germs, ain’t they? Especially the eyestalk guy sporting a flamethrower, bottom right. They’re even kind of sexy—by the logic of our times—right? This sign is roughly equivalent to what would happen if you replaced the trillion fiendish spiders of Arachnophobia with adorable puppies. (And yes, we’re accepting less-dated pop culture references here at the Evil. Just queue up at the window to your left.) Those germs just look like they’re playfully gnawing at your hand with their harmless little puppy teeth, no?
But perhaps the illustrator had something more devious in mind when he drew these sexy germs. Perhaps s/he, like the Evil, realizes this obsession with sterilizing every touchable surface, including our bodies, with space-age antibacterial goop is only giving evolution a goose and creating a race of überbacteria that will soon consume us all. And he was trying to subtly alert us to the fact that not all germs will stone-cold kill ya.
You need a little filth in your life, people. This is a scientistic fact—children raised in an environment which stinks of industrial-grade cleaner are much more vulnerable to bacteria and viruses of all stripe. Without the little doses of everyday scum, how can you build up a tolerance?
Which is not to say the Evil doesn’t wash his hands after doing his bathroom business. But he doesn’t fondle every object in his visual spectrum with Lysol deathwipes, either. The Evil believes in the five-second rule—still, in this day and age!—especially if the foodstuff dropped to the floor is wrapped in precious, precious bacon.
And yet . . .
Here’s the question Evil poses to you: in a world where everyone else is violently sterilizing themselves, does it even matter if you take a principled stand against paranoia? If you’re one of the dwindling number of reasonable people in this world who does not, in fact, rub the dirt off your shoulder, do you stay strong . . . or give up, because the superbug is coming whether you want it or not, thanks to your germophobe “friends?”