Future toilet innovations smelling rosy

(660 words)

A Facebook friend of mine named Bill Hudgins sent me a story I feel compelled to address. Bill’s one of the many great influentials from my days at the old Nashville Banner and if you’re not at least Facebook friends with Bill then there’s really no point in even having a computer.

He’s friends with one of my favorite authors, Michael Perry, and corresponds with Dave Barry so my posture momentarily improves whenever Bill summons with a story he thinks would be perfect for my blog.

That’s what happened last week.

What’s the story?

Stink-free toilets!

That Bill thought I should dive on in makes perfect sense. After all, my career has mostly been in the proverbial crapper for the past 20 years.

I wouldn’t have far to go.

The headline read: “Kohler toilet seat offers a breath of fresh air where it’s needed most.” The story says Kohler is marketing a battery-powered toilet seat that begins emitting a pleasant deodorizing scent the instant a triggering device indicates some shit’s about to go down.

I’ve heard that crude phrase used in cop movies and felt, profanity and all, it was in this case too apropos to ignore.

That Kohler is behind a revolutionary toilet advance didn’t surprise me a bit. Kohler’s behind quite a few advances that deal with behinds.

I know this because I in 2010 was a porcelain pilgrim to the Kohler Design Museum in Wisconsin.

I spent a few days in the village of Kohler as part of a story I was doing on great Wisconsin golf. Kohler is home to five outstanding golf courses, foremost among them Whistling Straits, famous for its pot bunkers.

I made sure I had time to check out the design museum, famous for it’s potties.

I remember they had one wall that was nothing but artistically stacked toilets. I guide threatened to throw me out when she saw I was preparing to scale it.

Climbing it was difficult to resist. Seeing it made me feel flush.

It had comfort-height seats, high-efficiency bowls, touch less flushers, you name it. It’s easy for purposes of joking to focus strictly on the toilets, but it had futuristic showers, sinks, tubs, etc. I’d go back.

It’s all very expensive, perfect for people ambitious to defacate on thrones fit for kings.

I like to think one of the reasons Bill sent me the story was to see if I could somehow take something so inherently crude and silly and elevate it into a story about the very future of mankind.

I’ll never ignore a tossed gauntlet, although this one I’ll pick up with rubber gloves.

See, there are noble men and women who today are dedicated to making toilets do more than conceal the stink.

Two of their names are Bill and Melinda Gates.

I don’t often find myself in the role of tossing attaboys to billionaires, but we’re not paying enough attention to Mr. and Mrs. Gates.

It grates on me when I continue hearing what a genius Gate’s rival, Steve Jobs, was when all his accomplishments seem centered on mindless entertainment devoted solely to increasing Apple Inc.’s bottom line.

The world’s going straight to Hell, but thanks to Jobs we’ll all be groovin’ when we get there.

The Gateses are quietly arranging a detour by tackling the ever-pressing problems of fresh water scarcity and sanitation. They recently announced a $100,000 winner to their “Reinvent the Toilet Challenge.”

It’s Michael Hoffman of the California Institute of Technology in Pasadena. Hoffman and his colleagues invented a solar-powered toilet that converts human waste into hydrogen gas that runs an in-house electrochemical reactor.

Other prize winners included multiple variations of water-free toilets that self-sanitize and transform human waste into energy.

So someday our waste will be used to power the appliances in our homes.

Amazing.

Are you smelling something?

I am. It’s the future

And it don’t stink.

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(739 words)

Our 6-year-old is at the precocious age where reading aloud is a joyful affirmation of her growing intelligence. She blurts out storefront signs and asks questions.

So any day now I’m sure I’ll have to explain what they sell inside the new store on Rt. 30 with the big “Love Toys” sign outside.

Being an indulgent parent, my instinct will be to pull right into the parking lot, march inside with a fistful of twenties and say, “This is my precious daughter. I love her. She loves toys. Show us all ya got!”

Geez, it’s probably been 20 years since I’ve been in what are routinely referred to as an adult book store.

The designation always struck me as a misnomer. I’d expect to find Leo Tolstoy in an adult book store. And I’m referring to dense books by the late Russian, not the actual author, although I’m unfamiliar with his recreations so who knows?

I was there to buy gag gifts for a buddy’s bachelor party. I remember buying an inflatable self-lubricating sheep.

He was an Ohio farm boy.

The marriage ended in acrimony about 10 years ago, but I’ll bet he still has that sheep. The poor thing’s probably covered in duct tape by now.

I marveled when the Love Toys store sprang up in the exact foot print of the old adult book store that burned down under suspicious circumstances.

I’ve always regretted I wasn’t there to watch it burn. In my mind I imagine a hole opening in the roof and a dozens of inflatable dates and various blow-up farm animals escaping into the sky.

That one had signs promoting “Live Girls!” As I said, I’ve not been a regular patron so I’m guessing there must be some nuance to the declaration.

I wonder about the people who work there.

I have to say I think it would be a pretty cool job. I can’t imagine it’s all that busy. 

I know my wife would be thrilled if I worked there. Heck, she’d be thrilled if I worked anywhere.

Only for a wife whose husband blogs would the answer to the question, “So what does your husband do?” be a step up the social ladder if she answered, “He clerks midnight at the porn shop across the street from the Arnold Palmer airport.”

And I might be able for the purposes of salesmanship be able to persuade the boss to let me take some of the stuff home for test drives.

We said “I do” in 1996, but we’d been doing it for four years prior. I’m sure my routine is as predictable to her as the next pitch to a batter who’s adept at stealing signs.

Yep, here comes another fast ball, right down the middle.

My popularity at the bar would surge, too. Instead of my usual $1.25 tip, I could just slam a foot-long love toy on the bar. It would be very funny and maybe even welcome.

The first time.

The gag might grow tedious quickly.

Or would it? Maybe Keith or Bill are interested in building a backyard shed and aren’t too picky about construction materials.

My friend Bill Hudgins forwarded me this clip about a new gambling sensation sweeping Las Vegas: vibrator racing!

That would be great fun on the bar and I could auction off the racers. Of course, you wouldn’t want to do that on a night when the special is kielbasa and pierogi. Many of the bar customers eat without averting their gaze from the TV and I wouldn’t want the gang in the kitchen getting angry over too many complaints that the sausage was way too chewy.

I’m amazed in a world awash in easily accessible cheap internet porn, there’s still a place for brick ‘n’ mortar stores run by what I guess are Mom ‘n’ Pop porn purveyors.

It almost seems kind of quaint.

Really, it’s exactly the kind of business we should all be interested in supporting. It’s locally owned, non-polluting and makes people happy.

Well, at least parts of people.

The one thing it lacks that would ensure a progressive guy like me going in and spending his money is that none of the products are organic.

Note: That’s organic, not orgasmic.

The words may look alike but, trust me, there’s a big difference

One involves a little dirt, the other a little dirty.

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