Who Knows What Evil Lurks...

The Deepest Blues are Black - Foo Fighters (mp3)
Set It Off - Girl Talk (mp3)

I'm having a Bizarro Andy Rooney moment. Please forgive me.

Few things on earth are more awkward than taking a dump on a black toilet.

Am I the only person who gets weirded out by black toilets? When I see a black toilet, I think Area 51. I think aliens and black-ops conspiracies and that old '80s TV series V with the lizard-faced people and the dude who eventually became Freddie Kreuger. People whose houses have black toilets are either ashamed of themselves or have big smelly secrets to hide. There's no other explanation.

When we go #2, there's this standard set of procedures we all must follow. We must wipe the seat down or cover it. We must sit. We must do our business while reading an entire newspaper or drawing penises on some flat surface along with our friend's phone number and the times they're available to meet anyone interested in a good time. This is stuff we all do, so up to this point, everything's normal. White toilet, black toilet, mauve toilet, it matters not.

But eventually we must stand, and eventually we must wipe, and that's when black toilets mess with the mojo.

All of us look into the toilet bowl after wiping. (Stop tryin' to deny it!!) It's as much a part of our human nature as our need to eat donuts or bet on sporting events. We look down into that bowl for two essential reasons:

1. to see what kind of poo we made -- Lincoln logs or cucumbers or rabbit pellets or yogurt;
2. to make sure the plumbing is healthy -- no red, no green, no ectoplasm.

This shit is a whole lot more important than our economy or China, 'cuz it's about home decoration and proper digestion and the need for human beings to see their poo after they made it. Beholding our fecal creations is one of those things that keeps us closer to God. We are the molders of our own shit; we must see if it is Good, and if it is, we can rest. If it isn't, we gotta go drink some Pepto and pray.

Cavemen had no better way of knowing about the status of their innards. Their poop was their best medical clue. CSI:Crap Scene Investigation. And they passed this habit down through the eons. We do this because it's totally instinctual.

Was the poop good and thick? Was it streaked with a little blood, or did it look kinda moldy? And, most importantly, was it a two-flusher? You'll never know, because those bastards installed a black fucking toilet! You might walk out of that bathroom with streaks of your poo still stuck to that black porcelain, but apparently your host thinks ignorance is bliss.

In a black toilet, you look down to see your business, and all you see is this pit of darkness and despair. It's like you're staring into the Loch Ness at midnight, and the best you're going to get is maybe the top of a turd, poking up above the water like the legendary monster's head in that famous picture.

The more one thinks one's shit doesn't stink, the more likely one possesses a black toilet. They don't want you to see your poop because they don't want to see their poop. They want to act like shit doesn't happen, but it does! Shit happens! We're full of shit!

And Now a Word from a Sponsor Who Isn't Sponsoring Us...

Amazon.com right now has three different sets of classical music that any decent human being presently unschooled in classical music should consider purchasing. All are part of a The 99 Essential... series. Ninety-nine songs. One for Mozart, one for Beethoven, and one a catch-all of everyone's "greatest." Each collection can be yours for the ludicriously low price of $7.99.

These collections are the lazy person's way to seem sophisticated and knowledgeable, and I'm the first to admit such. Buying a collection of 99 "essential" classical music songs, with tracks that range from just over a minute to just under 10, is like buying a collection of 99 Cliff's Notes versions of classic novels. OTOH, Mozart's CV makes Springsteen's look like a haiku. How the hell is someone who's curious about classical music but not setting out to become a snob about it supposed to dip their toe in the water, enjoy a few orchestral moments in their raucous and electric life?

By spending $8 for several hours of "essential" stuff. That's how. So go and consider broadening your classical horizons and simultaneously annoying the hell out of music snobs by buying one of these collections. I can't imagine a better combination than that.

And it makes for great music when sitting on someone's black toilet.