So I was outside cleaning my window fans, finally having reached a point of frustration with them such that I no longer cared about their electrical well-being. They don't unscrew so there was no way to get at the blades manually and the thick layers of Los Angeles air dirt rendered vacuuming, air cans and any other cleaning options useless.
It seemed a good spray down was the only option before me. But what of the fans' moving motor parts? There was a time when I cared. It was past.
I decided the first step was to spray the grates and blades down with a good dousing of nature's grease cutter, vinegar. Then as if by magic, the dirt immediately loosed. It was beautiful. I nearly cried. Next up, I strapped the hose sprayer adapter onto the water source, set it to stun (Jet) and sprayed away like a maniac inflicting a shower of gunfire on her enemy. The whole thing was over in flash. I left the lifeless fans in the sun to cook and dry out.
Later, when I went to check on them, I noted something that prompted this tome. I'd left the vinegar spray bottle outside and now there was a FLY ON IT. I guess you can get a few flies with vinegar. Which explains how that hateful Elizabeth Hasselbeck (Or Crappelbeck, I like to call her) has any family or friends.