Escape and Entrance

I left you, Saturday mornings sleeping in and imaginary worlds of talking plastic; waging war over who gets “shotgun”; threats of “turning the car around”; wishing to change the classical music to thrash metal, dozing off because I can’t; tugging the handle simultaneously with the “beep”, making furrowed faces at the door; sneaking into the chips before we make it home from the store … in the dust.

And chose you, green machine. I'll sit and steer where I want, brake and unlock when I want.

In Laymen's Terms, My Dying Cat

A tuft of orange and he’s lacking lasagna quite obviously felt by scales I could play with tracing fingers. One eye full of amber light, the other in which the sun sets. Belying his active stance, his breath reflects rot and reaper within.. Braided strings of sputum expressed in the plague he endures on the flannel roads that will cross. He’s as useful as all knick-knacks, yet too light to weigh down his own certificate. The mange, he has, but “il mange”, he has not. A cauldron boils with the tongues of horses and mystery bratwurst, a steaming mush of regurgitation soon to be sprawled out on his curdled cloak.

The German Shit-Shelf -- Not Assignment

Next to the infamous Squat-hole toilets of Asia and southern France, the German Poo-Shelf Toilet is undoubtedly one of the least pleasant methods of waste removal - assuming you're like most folks and don't feel the need to get to know your waste. It finds itself here in western Poland because this region was once part of Germany until the Germans got all riled up and tried to take over the world. They're better now, but the legacy of their doody-tech remains.

The Poo-Shelf comes from a period in German history when Germans were less interested in world domination and apparently more interested in spending quality time with their feces. That, or they were prone to accidentally eating their wedding rings and needed a toilet that allowed them to conveniently rummage through their dung before dispatching it to the abyss. Those must have been fascinating times and I'm quite glad I wasn't born in them.

I don't know how many such devices are in existence. Perhaps they're quite rare and I was simply lucky to stumble upon such a specimen. All I know is that upon encountering the German Poo-Shelf Toilet, one is forced to solemnly contemplate the reason such a horrible mechanism exists, and what demon designed such a thing.

Rather than whisking your waste away, the GPST simply lets it sit there, mere centimeters from your rump, so that you might think about the brief time you had together. When you're done reminiscing - or when the odor of a pile of poop begins to negatively affect the ambiance of your bathroom - you simply pull up on the flushing mechanism to send your creation on to the Great Beyond. However, if the flushing mechanism doesn't work - well, you're on your own with a shelf full of poo and a toilet designed so as to render the plunger useless. Good luck and God bless.

It should also be noted that any gentleman who chooses to stand up and use the German Poo-Shelf Toilet for the purpose of bladder-emptying can be expected to enjoy as much splash-back as one might get from say, peeing on a coffee table. The toilet, in all aspects aside from cigarette butt and chewing gum disposal, is utterly useless.

Those who believe in intelligent life in outer space often say that any culture advanced enough to achieve space travel would probably not make themselves known to us until we too have reached a certain level of civilization. I take that to mean the elimination of war, and every German Poo Shelf toilet currently in existence. Although stopping warfare is a tall order at the moment, I encourage every able-bodied soul to grab a sledgehammer, get to Germany, and start swinging.