How Toilets Work

Women, you may want to step outside for this one. It could get ugly.

. . . Are they gone?

All right. Now, guys, I don't know who it was who initiated the accusatory axiom that "men are pigs." I find that kind of generalization offensive, sexist, and unfair. But the sometimes disgusting state of public men's restrooms doesn't exactly help to refute the idea. It's not just the cartoon-sized heap of used paper towels that seems to be forever cascading from the garbage bins, or the weird little bits of toilet paper lying around the floor. It's the visible indications that, incomprehensibly, even the basic operation of a toilet seems to be eluding certain members of ours, the less-refined gender.

Gentlemen (and I use that form of address in a desperate act of wishful thinking), I didn't want to embarrass you in front of your superiors, but now that they've left the room, it really needs to be said: some of you really are pigs. The number of times I've had to clean up after you before I could safely use the stall facilities is horrifying. And the number of shudder-inducing floor stains I've had to step over to use urinals is appalling.

So, in case you missed the instructions during your childhood in the forest, let me explain how public toilets work. You use them—as neatly as possible—and then you clean up after yourself. Why? Why you ask? Because, as I often repeat in these posts (say it with me, now), there are other people in the world besides you. That's right. It's an actual, proven scientific fact that other people exist. That's why you need to clean up after yourself: for others.

Though you may find no personal value in the practice (pigs), you're still socially obligated to consider the next . . . uh . . . patron, and spare him the sight of your bodily mementos.

One particular feature of the toilet that I'd like you to note is the hinged seat. Did you know that this feature was

designed especially for men? Wasn't that thoughtful? It offers us a far better chance of accuracy when relieving

ourselves, thereby helping us avoid leaving behind any reminders of our visits. But you have to lift it, you see? You can see how that makes sense, yes? I know that some of you may marvel that I would even bother to mention something so obvious, but I point it out because unfortunately, it's all too clear that not everyone has been thus

enlightened. Some of you are just pissing away with the seat down (both piggish and illogical) and then exiting, having . . . "marked" it, I suppose.

And to those men I say this: I don't think you're really thinking things through. Imagine, if you will, the next man who enters the stall, only to discover a stranger's urine on the seat. Now that person has to clean it. And that's not fair, is it? The urine isn't his. It's yours.

When you exit a bathroom stall, there should be no . . . let's say "remnants" . . . of any kind. That means that, in addition to making use of the hinged seat, you are required to flush. Oh, I hope no women are reading this. But yes . . . some of you men don't flush! What kind of barbarians are you? Did you grow up with an outhouse in the back yard? Don't be disgusting. Flush the damned toilet. It's not nice to make someone else do it for you.

Now, lately, we're seeing more self-flushing toilets. We should not be proud of this invention; it only exists to compensate for the piggish pigs who feel fine about leaving behind their waste for someone else to dispose of. It's damning that such a device was ever conceived; shame on us for that. But men, even if the toilet flushes itself, you've still got to . . . verify . . . your flush. Don't make me get graphic. You know what I mean.

Let's say you've done all that, leaving the toilet looking as if it was just freshly installed. What else could I possibly ask of you? Hold on, Mr. Smuggy. I see you, walking out without washing your hands. Sinks! All bathrooms have them. And you're supposed to use them. You've been in a public men's toilet, for heaven's sake. Use some soap and water on the way out. It's what civilized men do. And I still carry the naive, idealistic notion that we all want to behave like civilized men. Again, think it through. You use the toilet, then saunter, unwashed, back into the world. That means that the next person you shake hands with will unwittingly get a virtual visit to that same toilet. It means that your food may be enhanced by some very unwanted ingredients. In short, it's gross.

Listen. This comes down to a bigger question: What kind of person do you want to be? Do you want to be someone who disregards and disrespects his fellow man? Or do you want to be responsible and considerate and clean up your own mess? I'm counting on you all to choose the latter. All else is chaos. And chaos really pisses me off.