The news is on, and the pundits are all falling all over themselves to be the first to put a bar of soap into Donald Trump’s mouth because he uttered the word “pussy” when referring to Ted Cruz’s unwillingness to, should he become president, bring back waterboarding.
The Donald’s and the woman in the audience’s description of Ted Cruz is not the one I would use. I personally prefer to call Ted Cruz “an asshole.” Bu then, I’m not running for president.
But the media, the Fourth Estate, aren’t concerned that the top contender for the GOP’s candidate for President of the United States favors torture. Favors one of the very practices that helped spread, helped foment, helped make terrorism an acceptable option to far more people who might just act on it.
When he was a young man, Ted Cruz, aspired to “make ‘tit’ films” and sought “World Domination, you know rule everything.” Today he is a top contender for the GOP Presidential nomination.
Quick! Will somebody please get this guy a job in porno so we can get him out of politics?
They always come off the shelf at this time of year. The Harry Potter books. I’ve read and re-read all of them until the pages are worn and grimy. They give me comfort when I am fighting off “The Missing.”
“When I find myself in times of trouble …”
“The Missing” — Sounds like a “who-dunnit,” doesn’t it. But that’s not what I mean.
Go ahead and laugh. But I honestly mean that the Harry Potter books — kids books — help me fight off the sadness of missing people.
You see, in Harry Potter, the folks Harry loves and has lost get to come back sometimes. Once in every few books. OK, in the first, the fourth, and the seventh. What — you need page numbers?
And each time I read how they, those dead people, give Harry courage, I find my own again.
And you know what especially makes a difference? Throughout the entire series, folks talk normally about people who have passed. Just as if they were, and still are, an important part of a person’s life. The characters do, and are expected to, think about people who are no longer around. Grief, missing them is part of life; an acknowledged part.
Real life, however, outside of books, is not at all like that. The bereaved are allowed 1 week to 1 year to grieve, depending on the relationship and the circumstances. Within that time, and especially way beyond it, talking about a lost loved one is awkward. It makes other people uncomfortable. They don’t know what to say. What to do. Where to look. It’s taboo.
Death in our society pretty much wipes a person off the slate — we say good-bye, are moved to shed tears, and then expected to get beyond it. We are essentially expected to metaphorically “unfriend” them.
Of course, we all fear our own death, so we don’t want to talk about someone else’s death. We just can’t deal with someone else who has gone to that wizarding school in the sky.
Reading Harry Potter helps me feel like my missing are close by. Let’s me feel that there are folks, even if they are fictional, who let me remember and who also remember their own loved ones. Very much like my bloggin’ buddies, who let me lean on them from time to time. For which I will be eternally grateful.
It’s coming on the anniversary of my sister Judy’s passing, a time that is always difficult for me.
Judy too was a Potterhead, although she only lived long enough to read the first three books. I’m quite sure that that is one of the things that most annoyed her about dying, actually. Nobody likes to miss the ending.
So I’m really hoping she’ll hook up with Alan Rickman pretty soon. Because she’ll show him the ropes, and he’ll fill her in on the rest of the story. A match made in, well, heaven.
There are responsibilities that I take seriously. And giving all of you the scoop on poop is one of them.
But this week there is just too much. Too much scoop on poop, even for me.
Still, I can’t hold it all in. I must let it go. Besides, as I explained in Trifecta! all good comedy bits come in threes. So I had to, ummm, unload.
Number One: The first story is one that will, perhaps, ease your mind about all that downtime you spend at work in the bathroom. Because someone has invented a calculator to, well, calculate, how much money you make while on the pot.
Please don’t anyone tell my boss about this calculator. This image from the “Paid To Poo Calculator/Plumbworld”. I did not make that up.
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Number Two: This one is toilet-focused as well. And really as suggested in this article, it could really save all of our asses, worldwide. I’m not just shitting you!
The article says that a British University (too embarrassed to own up to its research and identify itself) has developed:
A toilet that does not need water, a sewage system or external power but instead uses nanotechnology to treat human waste, produce clean water and keep smells at bay.
You won’t need that Brita Filter for long!
No need for this! Wikimedia Image
Seriously, though, a waterless toilet that could be developed and mass produced cheaply, and that would produce potable water, well, that would be truly wonderful for the world.
Science is pretty damn cool sometimes.
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Number Three:
As a kid, a “Number Three” meant a fart. Usually an SBD — a “silent but deadly” one. But this number three? Far less benign.
Now as a person with serious bowel disease, I will confess that I worry that some day I will “go” the way of many famous people. That I will die literally on the loo. Those people include Elvis (who did not leave the building), Judy Garland (who did not make this list), and Catherine the Great of Russia (who may or may not have died on the toilet but her descendants have preferred the version to the one that says she died-while-having-sex-with-a-horse).
Still, if I die by poop, I’d always expected it would come from below the belt. Not above. And certainly not far above.
Shit! Now I have something new to worry about. Just what I need. Death via blue ice falling from the sky.
Wanna guess what blue ice is?
Apparently, blue ice is frozen shit falling from the sky. And pee too. Raining down from airplanes. And it is landing on and injuring unsuspecting people.
The newspaper claims that aviation scientists believe she may well have had the misfortune to become one of an incredibly rare group: people who have been hit by what the airline industry coyly calls “blue ice”.
That’s its euphemism for the frozen human waste that very occasionally forms around the overflow outlets for aeroplane toilets, and then falls to earth. “Blue” because of the chemicals added to the toilets in planes to reduce odour and break down the waste.
FiftyFourandAHalf 