Just when you thought it was safe to get your hands clean?

Not too long ago, while perusing overpriced outdoor sporting equipment, something caught my eye. It is a pump hand sanitizer bottle situated to the left of the cash register. Now it was the Christmas season and the crunchy folks working at this particular outdoor recreational store knew that many germ infested shoppers would frequent their shop and they would be sneezing into their hands, wiping their noses, and fondling the merchandise that would later need to be refolded or properly shelved. Staring at the hand sanitizer, I noticed an interesting advertisement: “Kills 99.99% of the germs that make you sick.” I must admit I was intrigued by this remarkable declaration. I mean if this stuff could actually do what it claimed then these chemists should be paraded through streets and awarded a key to the city. Bacteria everywhere should cower in fear at the immense power of this hand sanitizer.

Then it hit me. What about the other .01% of the germs that make me sick that this goop doesn’t destroy? What kills them? I suppose the fleet of T-Helper and white blood cells that our immune systems use to fight these little pests would. But am I weakening my body’s defenses by taking out the light weight bacteria first? Are we culturing some sort of supped up killer bacteria that has the making of the next great New York Times bestseller, i.e. The Andromeda Strain?

Rest easy, I am not some sort of OCD germ-a-phobic nut job who won’t touch door knobs or drink from public water fountains. I am just thinking about future generations who will have to deal with these uber-bacteria that we are creating. I mean our grandchildren are going to need to live inside a plastic bubble because their immunities are shot because some overprotective mother wouldn’t allow her toddler to play outside for fear that precious little Timmy would eat a bug or stick his fingers in an orifice before washing up.

What good is it to live 107 years if you able allowed to have any fun? I don’t want to live a boring life cooped up inside some sterilized facility playing Sudoku or Mario Kart. I want to enjoy God’s beautiful creation. I want to climb mountains, hike trails, and dive off scary high cliffs. So what if I get a little unfiltered water in my mouth. It will be good for me. My motto is “God made dirt, so dirt won’t hurt.”

Thus, when my neighbor’s little Nancy-boy, who is pasty white because his body has never been violated by the UV rays of the sun, can’t go outside out of fear of what he germ may pounce; me and my boys are going to be out with the germs enjoying nature, collecting bugs, and playing in mud holes, because that is what “good” little boys should be doing, just not in their Sunday best…well maybe sometimes, just as long as their mother doesn’t find out.