For the reading-impaired, an audio edition: http://vocaroo.com/i/s0tORG9lASLA



Twelve by twelve we march, sounding with cries of:

"Sweep left. Sweep right."

"Maid Troop - Forward!"

They are uniformed.
They are we, and we are all alike.
What has made us so?
We are Maid Army, and you are we.

Ours is a world that begins with a uniform. An ironed uniform with garters, and a lace head-dress with a singular consciousness beneath it.

Well dressed. We are all alike.

We were but children, years ago. Some of us children now. Possessed by a marked cleanliness. Driven by that endless rote: sweep, lift, place, repeat. Fascinated by the aprons that adorned those we admired as a badge of their akin desire for order, cleanliness, and fashion.

We dreamed of that broom. We hungered for that apron. We are all alike.

We have banded together today. We have found eachother. We compliment one another seamlessly, and think with an unwavering likeness. We do what we agree with. We fail where we all fall short. Not because have fallen into dissent. Not because we have ulterior motives. Not because we did not prepare.

We win because we are all alike. We fail because we are all alike.

And then it happened. I donned that uniform. You donned that uniform. We marched, and we rushed through the streets like heroin in the veins of an addict. We are a singular, well-dressed and clean pulse sent out like a distress signal. We are the amending of day to day incompetence and prolonged dissatisfaction. We belong. We are familiar and yet we have never met. We think alike and yet we have exchanged no ideas prior.

For we are Maids, and we are all alike.

We are all alike. We've been pressed into suits, labcoats, and on occasion stripped bare before our peers when we have longed for nothing more that than well-starched dress. The dress of this uniform - no pathetic quandary perused in a second-hand shop. We have been dominated by Butlers and the unqualified. The unprofessional. We few - we precious few - that offered the world purity and lace filigree, and shared our works amongst willing pupils that would one-day face the same woes that made our feet leaden.

This is our world now. The world of the polished floor and the ironed lapel, clan of the clean. We force the use of a service pre-existing without demanding pay for the correction of barbarity, filth, and gluttony, and we are called militants. We amend, and we are called soldiers. We embrace the weak-bleach cleaning solution, and we are called guerrillas. We exist without skin tone, without nationality, without religious bias, and we are militants?

True, We are militants. Our war is against grime, idiocy, and those who would leave our siblings dressless and pressed into a world that does not understand them. Our war is waged judging people by what they say, think, and leave in the sink, not what they look like.

I am a Maid. You are a Maid. And we are Maid Army. I may one day fall. My garters will be stripped of me, and my dust-pan confiscated. But they shall not stop us. They cannot stop us.

For we are Maids, and we are all alike.

Maid emphatically rejects anything that is not Maid, and fully supports anything that is.

The better you understand something, the more Maid it turns out to be.

Maid is not fooled into thinking there has to be a reason for everything.

Maid reveals the surprising truth about people and situations.

Maid does not subscribe to any religion, endorse any political party, nor does it do anything beyond advocate Maid.

There is no secret to being Maid.

Maid may be the preferred status of individuals.

Never underestimate the remarkable abilities of Maid.

Wake up knowing that every day is Maid in Maid Army.

I am an avid blood donor and have just finished clearing a gallon of both Whole Blood and Platelets as of recently. I had made Marrow the next thing on my list, but it's sort of cost-limiting, running about one-hundred dollars to register to do it.

For the remainder of January, the National Marrow Donor Program is covering registration fees with automatically dispensed promotional codes in their sign-up forms.

The process is pretty simple - you fill out the paperwork, they mail you a cheek-swab that you mail back with their already-covered postage applied, and they book you down for it.

If you're willing to register, it's free and it'd be a real nice thing to do. Marrow's a scarce commodity, and it won't cost you to sign up to help. You can register as a donor via this link: http://marrow.org/Join/Join_Now/Join_Now.aspx

Thanks for reading and considering.

As of 01:28 EST, Dec. 16, 2011, Pyonta has been placed under total medical restraint after a long battle with psychological disorder and psychosis. He is under restraint due to his increasing issue with delusory self-harm, and I cannot honestly say when, or even if, he will return.

I am keeping the group as Private/Invite only so as to keep Greg, that damned bot from coming back. He's made a couple people leave, I guess, and I don't want that happening.

I would always like more people. Maybe some sane ones, so if you could find it in your heart or boredom, send some invites to some other friends who may at the very least tolerate wearing a frilly uniform.