NOBODY is ever going to see this page.

There is a certain freedom in this fact. It’s liberating that I can type whatever I want here and the only two people that will ever know about it is me and the unfortunate FBI agent assigned to monitor my internet activity. That’s a joke.  I know Homeland Security and the FBI won’t give a rat’s fermented fart about this page unless it mentions jihad or AR-15’s…


I get it… This is an obscure text link in the footer menu for cryin’ out loud. Who in their right mind would click on it? Better still, who actually had the attention span to make it this far down the page?  All the way to the footer! Like I said…


This is like my very own Fortress of Solitude where I can shout out to the void in absolute confidence…  I can damn near hear an echo as I type this gibberish. Posted live… on the internet… on a public page no less! Maybe I’m crazy, but I think this must be what streakers feel like. You’re all hanging it out there, but nobody really gives a crap. Am I right?

You know what?

Chicken Butt!

Hahahahahahahaha… you fall for that every time!

Still reading? You are one desperate or dedicated son of a gun I must say.

Moving on, we can all agree (me and my FBI agent anyway) that nobody will ever read this crap. Now I’m gonna prove it.

Attention Internet! Enter this coupon code when you place an order and get 11.4% off your next order! Coupon: LIVINGPROOF

Why? Because 11.4% is funny. Plus, nobody is ever going to use it. That’s why.

My boss will never see this coupon used and I will laugh in the secret, dank little depths of silliness that is my mind. Although some days I may cry because this in actually a metaphor for how humanity rushes forward, reaching for more while the object of its desire is directly under its nose. Irony or bull sh*t? Doesn’t matter ’cause you’re not reading this. LOL.

That’s a lie…  I didn’t laugh out loud.

I didn’t even snicker out loud. Just kind of a chuffing, mildly amused sort of snort. The kind of thing that would make you want to punch someone in the face if you saw them do it in public. I’m a little embarrassed honestly.

What’s the point? The answer is 42. Look it up.

While you’re (not) here… I have a question. Why is it that my social security number gets whore’d out to all four corners of the Earth yet I can spend days with SEO plugins and Google Adwords and not get half that amount of traffic?  Doesn’t that just chap your ass?  It does mine. All these hacker bastards have to do is crack the code for getting legitimate traffic and all is well. I’d trust them more than I trust the 117 emails I get daily from people claiming they can help me reach people. You know the ones I’m talking about.

Prove me wrong.

We could use the traffic. We could use the sales to be honest. That’s why we’re here isn’t it?  I don’t mean “WHY WE ARE HERE”… that’s a bit more existential than I planned on getting this evening, just “why we’re here”. The answer to this puzzling puzzler? Waterblades man… we’re selling waterblades! Somehow I though that would be obvious from our domain name.

Plus the fact that the internet is a commerce driven Goliath controlled by the 1% with the intent to make us dependent and compliant to their controlling ways. You know?!  Yeah, that’s bull sh*t too.

Anyway, it’s late and I’m way off topic. It’d be really cool if you would see fit to tell your friends about our products. Maybe buy more when you need them. Put bad reviews on the copycat products and generally support One Pass ’cause we’d really appreciate it. A lot.   Not “Gonna show up at your house unannounced with a bottle of wine” kind of appreciate it, more like a “That was nice, maybe we’ll follow them on Instagram” kind of thing.

Maybe you could even find your way to share our website address, or join our mailing list, follow us on Instagram or Twitter. Not to sound needy, but we’ll really be happy with anything. Of course, since nobody is reading this, I guess we’ll just keep being lonely over here in our little cleaning-products-corner-of-the-interwebs. *sigh*

Prove me wrong.