via www.nasa.gov
VIRUS
You've seen this reel before. You know how it ends. But it gets better every time.
VIRUS feed.
VIRUS mobile.
VIRUS is a truck out on the four-way, a mile or more away.
But it's the light in your VIRUS that keeps me warm.
VIRUS has all the fresh flavor of just-brewed drip coffee. Your husband will say, Christ, Sally, I used to think your coffee was only so-so. But now, wow! Safe when taken as directed.
VIRUS is a machine for making choices.
VIRUS: the spring in your step.
VIRUS promises a soft manageability, and it delivers.
VIRUS is the end to that.
VIRUS is your quiet smile as you run into an old friend on the street.
VIRUS welcomes you with a firm handshake of carbon monoxide.
VIRUS.
VIRUS is a welcome cup of coffee on a hot morning.
VIRUS is a windswept vista through your polycarbonate riot shield.
VIRUS is the social.
VIRUS holds you in its long petro- chemical arms.
VIRUS reconfigures cities. For breakfast.
VIRUS.