December 27, 2006
Opinion: These Toilet Contents I Bequeath to the Next Stall Visitor
Guest editorial by Lance Prospero, evacuation maestro
It is my sincere desire to share with mankind the fruits of my labors, the creativity that dwells deep within me.
That is why I never flush a toilet, and leave my precious bodily byproducts there for all the world to enjoy. This, truly, is a subtle whore, a closet lock and key of villanous secrets.
Whether I produce prodigious stools, watery bowel washings, or my delightful yellowy urine, that which emanates from my body I give unto you.
Some decry what they see as "laziness" or "disgustingness," but they know not what they speak. For my body produces nothing but sumptuous perfection, delivered by mine loins, and I selflessly bequeath my art to the next visitor of this stall.
What light through yonder porcelain breaks?
I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student. These funeral-baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables from which the next visitor shall partake.
If I quench thee, thou flaming monster, I can again thy former light restore. Should I repent me; but once put out thy light, thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat that can thy light relume.
For if I have too austerely punish'd you, your compensation makes amends: for I have given you here a third of mine own life, or that for which I live, and I ratify this my rich gift. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, let your indulgence set me free.
Enjoy, brave Concorde!
It is my sincere desire to share with mankind the fruits of my labors, the creativity that dwells deep within me.
That is why I never flush a toilet, and leave my precious bodily byproducts there for all the world to enjoy. This, truly, is a subtle whore, a closet lock and key of villanous secrets.
Whether I produce prodigious stools, watery bowel washings, or my delightful yellowy urine, that which emanates from my body I give unto you.
Some decry what they see as "laziness" or "disgustingness," but they know not what they speak. For my body produces nothing but sumptuous perfection, delivered by mine loins, and I selflessly bequeath my art to the next visitor of this stall.
What light through yonder porcelain breaks?
I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow-student. These funeral-baked meats did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables from which the next visitor shall partake.
If I quench thee, thou flaming monster, I can again thy former light restore. Should I repent me; but once put out thy light, thou cunning’st pattern of excelling nature, I know not where is that Promethean heat that can thy light relume.
For if I have too austerely punish'd you, your compensation makes amends: for I have given you here a third of mine own life, or that for which I live, and I ratify this my rich gift. As you from crimes would pardon'd be, let your indulgence set me free.
Enjoy, brave Concorde!
Labels: toilets, unflushed toilets