Things That Suck

AUTOMATIC TOILETS

The laziness of America astounds and befuddles me. Are we really too tired, after (truthfully) laboring through wiping our asses that we cannot flush what we were so eager to jettison?

Now, don't get me wrong - I am well aware that there are sanitary reasons behind the existence of these toilets, and they are primary. However, in this respect, the toilets are self-defeating. Sure, you don't have to touch anything to flush it. This helps us avoid the undesirable task of coming into contact with something that, transitively, has touched someone else's penis. Furthermore, no longer does one have to hoist a boot to one's waist and press down on a lever to make their poo swirl down into the depths of the unknown. These are fairly decent arguments to have a toilet capable of flushing itself at its own discretion, though they are easily refuted when one realizes that serial penis-touchers may have indeed touched everything in their immediate vicinity--including your desk, car door handles and perhaps even your silverware--and that one need not be as flexible as a cheerleader to flush the toilet with the sole of a shoe.

Regardless, such arguments (I assume) have been well-respected enough to behoove the manufacturers of toilets to implement a means of flushing that requires no touching whatsoever to get it going. Not only does this conjure a comparison of an easily-excitable teen with little to no bedroom experience (other than working daily on his dexterity) accidentally brushing against his friend's mother's bosom, it makes one question who decided this mechanism was necessary in the first place. Was it a consumer relations associate, so distraught after reading countless letters begging for some flushing method that did not require gloves, who got the ball rolling? Or an entrepreneur with irritable bowels who was fed up with the notion of washing his hands every thirty minutes? Regardless of its source, automatic toilets appear here to stay. Consequently, we must deal with their truly unsanitary actions and embrace that they, like those who insist upon their installation, suck.

Truthfully, touching a toilet flushing lever has never put me in the best of moods. Yes, I understand I just wrote off this argument--and I have no regrets--but I think my reasons are compelling: first, the amount of stain on what appears to be stainless steel quite arouses my morbid (and fecid) curiosity; second, the lever represents saying goodbye to an old friend in a dramatic, quick, and violent way which I am never quite prepared for--to me, it's like shooting Old Yeller in the face with a 12-gauge ("Well, soft and brown fellow, I hardly knew ye, but your purpose is served.").

Despite these two astoundingly poignant observations, I cannot reason that automatic toilets should continue to exist, and neither should you. It is really for only one reason. Remember how I said that their sanitary goals are self-defeating? Well, here's why, in a concise explanation that should implore you to shower after every use:


















ASSWATER

Right, I know what you're thinking. Why'd you put so much space there? I could see the word anyway. Instead, in case you're not, you should be filled with disgust and a little bit of attraction. Disgust because you just realized that, though you've never discussed this with anyone, every goddamn time you use an automatic toilet it flushes for no apparent reason and splashes water containing your own fecal matter onto your ass that you've worked for feverishly to clean. Attraction because you know that behind these words is a man courageous and willing enough to point out that we're all getting sprayed with ASSWATER and being complacent about it. Don't worry, my number is available upon request.

Not only is this absolutely repulsive (no, not my assumption of lust), it's rather frustrating as well. Countless times have I been peacefully recalling what I had for lunch, in a vague, brownish-green, word jumble sort of way, when to my surprise the toilet decides I have neared the brooding finale of my Symphony No. 2 (please get that joke) and abruptly calls it quits. Quite frequently this happens while I am wiping. I wouldn't really be mad, if not for this problem, which I shall simply make you envision in a rather odd way: imagine my man-parts (for assistance, Google 'Space Needle') walking down the street on a rainy day, only to be splashed with no warning by an inconsiderate motorist speeding through a puddle. Since I'm almost done, I can somewhat understand the flush--it could be interpreted as an act of courtesy, like, thanks for shitting in me, I'm ready again if you are--but the end result still remains that my ass and balls just got misted by something far from the purest water on earth. Also, all of this is rather unexpected, and provides a very unnecessary jolt in an otherwise placid setting.

This process continues until you are ultimately really done with your business. Sometimes three, four, even five flushes may occur in a given sitting. Upon raising one's pants, the toilet never flushes. Never. Nor is the bowl empty: of course, what's left behind in the toilet are what I like to think of as "White Ass-Flags of Surrender." That is, your ass has finally given up, and you are greeted with a clean sheet or two of victory. These, though not visually disturbing to the stall's next occupant, must be flushed. Thus, you have to press the small, sometimes non-existent button on the top of the toilet, which no doubt has been pressed by the very same people who would have otherwise pulled the lever in the first place.

We have now come full circle. We have sailed through the Asswater only to leave battered and sullied, well aware that what was intended to help us avoid unsanitary contact has caused us grief and left us in worse positions than before: seated, being tortured by the mist of an unprovoked turd tsunami; and standing, knowing that pressing the button is no better than pulling the lever. Hopefully, we have emerged more knowledgeable, now certain that manual toilets are cleaner than their automatic brethren. May we also have emerged more motivated, either to protest against the grievances caused by automatic toilet manufacturers and their proponents, or to wash our asses and genitalia in the sink after we have arduously completed the torturous endeavor with our bathroom nemesis.

Whatever the result, please understand that automatic toilets suck, and please, warn others.