Here's how it works: for around $100 donation to the charity, you can have your own personal porcelain throne twinned with a specific outhouse deep in the bush. Its exact location can be even tracked down with Google Maps, so you can keep up with their progress and use.
One of the first toilet twinners, the Bishop of Coventry, invited the press around to his house to inspect his crapper and a photo of its twin in Rutana. "It's a bog standard idea with a great message," he said, "Forty percent of the world's population don't have access to a toilet and it's hard to imagine what that's like."
It sounds a good idea. There must be many people now who have a blown-up photo of a remote African dunny proudly hung on the wall above their commodes.
The Lebanese civil war broke out on April 13th, 1975, and didn't end until 1991. To commemorate these fifteen miserable years, Lebanese artist Nada Sehnaoui set up an unusual exhibition, which opened on April 13th last year in downtown Beirut. Her idea came from a phrase routinely used by the Lebanese at that time: "Haven't fifteen years of hiding in the toilets been enough?"
As bombings and gun battles raged in the streets, Lebanon's inhabitants would often hide in their bathrooms instead of trudging down to the basement shelters (most buildings are high-rise apartment blocks). They took what comfort they could from their cool marble floors, porcelain bowls, and squatters.
Lebanon is yet again at a point where relative peace could be lost. Elections have just ended and the usual suspects -- Hezbollah Shiites, Sunnis, and Christians -- are stirring up the political crap. Maybe Nada should bring back her installation to let the people reflect once again how easy it is for everything to get flushed away down the toilet.
Scientists who have been trying to find a good way to track Emperor penguin colonies at the South Pole have finally stumbled upon -- or stepped in -- the most awesome method: follow the poop.
Funny thing about penguin poop: it can be seen from space! When the penguins stay on the ice to breed, they remain in the colonies for around eight months, which means massive amounts of penguin guano. The reddish-brown poop is concentrated in areas near the colony and stains the ice, and the stains are large and dark enough to be seen on satellite images.
"Using satellite data," MSNBC reports, "the scientists found 10 new colonies of penguins, six colonies that had moved from previously mapped positions to new spots and another six that seemed to have disappeared."
"The research is 'incredibly useful,' because the only time to see emperors are during breeding in winter when weather makes it nearly impossible to get to the colonies, said longtime penguin researcher William Fraser, who wasn't involved in the study. Fraser noted that salty penguin guano 'over time will corrode your boots,' adding that he has lost nearly a dozen pairs to poop in 35 years of penguin research."
Yes, so Rover likes to eat poop occasionally, but do we really need reminding of the fact? According to those wacky Japanese, we do, because the hottest new gadget for discerning dog owners is The Sum: a robotic composting can shaped like a dog.
Rover opens his mouth, and in goes up to 600g of poop per day. (That's a lot of turd.) The Sum breaks it down and, eventually, pushes out fragrant, healthy compost -- although where on the machine it exits from is probably best left to the imagination.
The Sum comes in four funky dog-shaped colours and costs a mere $900.
What's the world -- or, more accurately, Australia -- coming to when a man can't clean out his ringpiece without being sacked? This is exactly what's happened to Amador Bernabe, a Filipino working in a Townsville engineering works.
Mr. Bernabe went to the work's toilet to relieve himself of some excess cargo, and as was his custom took in a bottle of water to sluice his pucker with. He used water instead of toilet paper because of his upbringing in the Philippines.
On this occasion his foreman followed him into the dunny and questioned his bathroom hygiene. He was subsequently reported to the manager who explained to him that he would be immediately sacked if he didn't follow the Australian method of wiping dirty bungs with toilet paper. Mr. Bernabe replied, "Sir, then you better terminate me."
Rick Finch, of the Australian Manufacturing Worker's Union, said, "The thought that bosses think they have the control to get involved in toiletry is a gross invasion of an employee's privacy. If it wasn't so disgusting it would be almost laughable."
Even local Members of Parliament have got involved by praising Mr. Bernabe for standing up for his right to clean as he believed it should be done. After all, a huge amount of the world population uses hoses or jugs of water by the crapper to wash off unwanted dung; and in many places a choice is on offer.
What does it matter which method a person uses as long as he cleans his hands after the deed? Let's hope that this isn't the start of a slippery slope leading to Big Brother-style bottom inspectors being deployed in all our work and public toilets.
If you've ever thought that the place where you lived was shit, spare a thought for those living in new housing projects in Indonesia, as their houses may actually be constructed from it.
Students from Indonesia's Prasetiya Mulya Business School have just won the 2009 Global Social Venture Competition with their invention, the EcoFaeBrick. With the local clay quarries overmined due to Indonesia's huge demand for affordable housing, pressure on the land has been enormous, so the environmentally-conscious students have taken advantage of an abundant natural resource: cow manure.
EcoFaeBrick provide a highly economical solution to a waste problem while helping to preserve the local environment from the damages caused by clay quarries. Not only are the bricks 20% lighter and stronger than the traditional variety, they are considerably cheaper and easier; and, in terms of CO2 emissions, they're cleaner to manufacture.
What's more, it's hoped that this venture will drastically increase the revenue of local farmers, whose cattle were previously only useful for producing milk or meat -- thereby increasing their quality of life and ultimately encouraging ex-clay miners to farm.
The tenderness of American bottoms is being blamed for environmental devastation. It's their love of soft toilet paper -- call it The Charmin Effect -- that is the problem. Although there is a percentage of recycled material that goes into the manufacturing of arse-wipe, the softness and strength come from the long fibers found only in virgin wood.
Each American uses 23.6 rolls of bung cleaner during an average year. This is more than three times the European average and more than 100 times that of a typical Chinese.
The majority of the timber pulp comes from tree farms in the US and South America. However, up to 22% of the pulp in some brands comes from old second growth forests in the northern US states and Canada. Many of these trees are over two hundred years old.
At the moment, there is a pitiful amount of 100% recycled fiber toilet paper selling in the US --- a mere two percent of the total. One campaigner, Dr Allen Hershkowitz, a scientist with the Natural Resource Defense Council says, "No forest of any kind should be used to make toilet paper."
So, what's the future for American wipers? More recycled TP leading to slight chafing and irritation of the ringpiece, but with beautiful forests to hike through and clean the air of C02? Or gently buffed bungholes and landscapes like something out the Somme battlefields in World War One?
Ladies and gents of the Land of the Free: what do you say?
This incredible-looking device could well be the toilet of the future.
The Flo Toilet might look like one of those foreign squat toilets with a contemporary makeover, but it has health benefits: it enables one to combine a toilet visit with yoga exercises, helping to build and develop back and abdominal muscles while pooping.
Although the health benefits of squat toilets are widely known, most westerners still prefer the traditional design we are so familiar with. This new system intends to promote a healthier defecation experience.
Its designers from Arizona State University's College Of Design hope that this system will alter the toilet archetype by the year 2030. Despite the space-age looks, it is free of mechanical parts and independent of electric power. As most of us use toilets that don't require electric power anyway, and would shudder to think of why a lavatory would require it, this is a curious selling point.
However, look carefully. Where's the handle to flush? No -- that protuberance at the top is the water inlet filling the tank. It's an autoflush toilet, then, but powered and triggered by a clever electromagnetic ball valve, itself powered by the movement of water -- so it is completely self-sufficient. It is low on water use, too, using just half-a-gallon of water per flush for a pee and a gallon for a poo, obtained from recycled hand-washing sessions.
Quite why the system needs to be transparent is not explained in the manifesto, but it could be to enable users to examine their stools side-on in addition to merely looking down, which might make health problems easier to detect.
Perhaps it's due to the content of certain websites, but Germans, rightly or wrongly, are frequently accused of having poo fetishes and underdeveloped senses of humour. However, this looks likely to change following action by the Berlin citizen's action group Shit Happens, who are tackling their local hundscheiße problem with wit rather than anger.
With uncollected dog poop becoming a serious public health issue, instead of fining, accusing, or confronting irresponsible dog owners, Sandra Kaliga and her neighbours in Berlin's Prenzlauer Berg district decided to address the problem with humor. To alert innocent pedestrians and remind dog owners of their responsibilities, they placed tiny flags in the turds, featuring slogans such as "Well formed!", "100 grammes, just €1.99,", "Special Offer!" and ‘Inner Values...".
"Only humour is effective," said Kaliga, herself a dog owner.
"Most people find it funny," Shit Happens member Sabina Ruminski agrees. "But we also get some dim-witted commentary, which mostly comes from dog owners who feel like they've been caught." However, members confirm that owners often clean up their dog's poop when they see the group heading their way.
According to the Berlin Animal Protection Agency, the city is home to more than 107,000 dogs, producing an estimated 30 million pounds of steaming shoe-magnets per year. However, some German dog owners feel that because they are required to pay a "dog tax" each year, it should absolve them of clean-up responsibility. The Shit Happens members sympathize as dog owners are often forced to carry poop bags for long distances due to a lack of waste receptacles; a problem that could be (but as yet is not) alleviated by the tax.
In the meantime, other German towns have placed flag orders with the group; in appreciation, Shit Happens are creating new "Danke" flags for those responsible owners who do clean up after their pets.
Everyone loves a free gift as a souvenir of a good day out. But racegoers at the Vicennes Racetrack in Paris were given a free gift on April 11th which may not have been in the best of taste: fresh poop from the champion racers.
They were presented in plush red velveteen boxes. They were accompanied by photographic diagrams of the equine excrement on silk cushions. They bore the legend, "When champions grow, so do our plants." This unique memento was intended as a gift for gardeners by organisers Cheval Francais, who claim that the manure is "high-end, 100% natural, guaranteed non-genetically modified and French."
"Horse dung has a great reputation," claim Cheval Francais. "When used on indoor plants or on balconies, it improves the bloom, the colours and the life of flowers. In a garden, it does wonders for tomatoes, potatoes, and roses."
Funny -- usually when I bring poop home from the track, it's on my shoe.
There are several reasons that I request an aisle seat when I fly. For one, I don't want any one between me and the toilet. And while I avoid seats too near the toilet, I prefer a seat not too far away either -- not because I mind the walk, but because the further away you are seated, the larger percentage of time your path is blocked by one of those damned peanut carts.
Now I have another reason for getting a seat close to the restroom: it could save me from being arrested and thrown in jail on a felony charge.
That was the fate of Joao Correa who, on March 28, was collared by the FBI after his Delta flight 406 touched down in Atlanta. His crime? Assault. He pushed past flight attendant Stephanie Scott who was determined to prevent him from using the first class restroom, despite his plea that he needed to go real bad and his path to the toilet for shmucks was blocked by the fucking food cart.
Correa vs. Scott. Now there is a case name with legs.
What was once a truly International Space Station -- which was built to allow nations to fully cooperate in scientific research -- has become a hotbed of misinformation, distrust, and disharmony. Relations between the Russians and Americans in particular have now hit an all time low, descending into childish behavior. The latest spat is over the use of toilets: the Americans are not allowing the Russians to dump in their pan.
What's more, after consultations, the Russians have been recommended to use their own rations and to crap only in the Russian toilet. The Americans will eat only US rations and their shitter is not to be used as a Russian dumping ground.
Russian cosmonaut Gennady Padalka told Novaya Gazeta newspaper that the lack of sharing was lowering the crew`s morale. "What is going on has an adverse effect on our work," said Mr Padalka, the veteran of two space missions who is to be the next commander.
Part of the reason for the lack of entante cordialle has been the influx of space tourists, which has led to Moscow billing the US for sending some astronauts to the station. Until now, only three astronauts worked at any one time on the station, but this will increase to six, putting added pressure on the available few orbiting commodes.
Are these two nations going to fall out again and restart the cold war over what is purely a small fecal matter? It would be a shame if the pretext for this new distrust was not a build up of nuclear ICBMs along borders, but a build up of toxic space turds floating in a tin can above the Earth.
Arguments have been raging for a while between supermarkets, consumer associations and even the Treasury Department. One point raised is that age old bugbear; is length or quality more desirable? Are 200 sheets of basic two-ply TP better than 100 sheets of top of the range quilted ring-cleaner?
Supermarkets reckon that price per roll, no matter what the length, is the way forward, but the government disagrees. Chris Bowen, Assistant Treasurer, has sought to stay out of the debate, but his spokesman said, “Questions of quality are ultimately up to the consumer.”
The idea behind the scheme is part of the process of allowing consumers to compare similar products on the quantity that is for sale. Personally, I think it`s a great idea. I`d far rather know how many squares I have available than rely on guesswork. You can always choose the quality depending on the size of your wallet or the state of your bung.
An idea I`d propose at the same time would be to take the measurement idea a step further. Manufacturers would not only have to state how many sheets were on the roll, but they would also have to print a number on every tenth sheet so that you know exactly how much you have left.
Reed Harris wanted his marriage proposal to Kaitlin Whipple to be a memorable occasion. On Friday, February 28, after class at San Juan College in Farmington, NM, he arranged with some friends to deliver the ring to her in a milkshake where she would discover it (we hope) and happily agree to the proposal. The plan worked out, but not exactly in the right order.
Kaitlin, not knowing of the delivery method and being in a race to drink the shake rapidly did just that, and did not feel the ring go down as she swallowed it. She was puzzled by the looks of concern from Reed and her friends, and especially by the search of her empty cup, and then of everyone else's shake. Finally the truth was revealed, and Kaitlin was rushed to the emergency room, where an X-ray revealed the ring in her stomach.
Reed was as surprised as anyone at the outcome. "I mean, [the ring] is not the smallest thing," he said. "I thought it was impossible for her not to notice it." He miscalculated.
After the X-ray proved to Kaitlin that she had indeed swallowed the ring, her friends had all sorts of advice; eat lots of fiber, stock up on prunes, take pills. In any event, make sure that the precious bauble would have plenty of help to come out all right in the end.
The ring "arrived" the morning of March 1, after a digestive trip of two days.
MY question is, of course, how was that arrival verified? How, exactly, did she catch her deposit, and what search technique was employed to sift it? How did she clean the ring afterward?
Our best wishes go to the happy couple, the symbol of whose happiness had literally to go through the bride-to-be.
Venice has always been susceptible to varying degrees of general stinkiness as it`s built on a series of canals that are regularly flooded by the Mediterranean. In summer it can be particularly bad due to the heat and an influx of more than twenty million tourists.
Starting this year, pay virtually and pee virtuously is the method that the authorities are hoping will prevent millions of visitors from using the streets as urinals. This happens as many restaurants and bars won`t allow casual use of their facilities.
Visitors can now go online and buy a “toilet card”. These are either cards for ten visits over five days or two visits in one day. High season costs are $0.90 per piss, low season $0.65. The trouble is that these have to be purchased fifteen days in advance!
How do you work out how many slashes and dumps you need in a day? A day spent walking around exploring the city, maybe taking in a gallery or two, might just warrant the two visits. But going out on the beer in a pub crawl could entail a dozen pees and a couple of sloppy beer shits between bars.
To cap it all, if you forget to buy on-line, a regular toilet card bought at the bathroom costs $1.20 a go in high season and $0.90 a leak in low season, while locals only pay $0.33 to urinate all year round! Have foreigners got bigger bladders and bowels than Venetians? Or is this just yet another way of ripping tourists off?
I can see rebellious and drunken foreigners still using Venice`s streets as urinals for a long time to come.
Water engineers in Brisbane, Australia, decided to celebrate World Toilet Day with a special exhibition; they got hold of 100 shiny white porcelain toilet bowls and had local artists decorate them. Exhibition organiser, Rowan Barber, commented, “We`ve had decoupage, we`ve had them tiled, painted, and covered in foil.”
Let's hope those are coffee grounds.
The exhibition was held to make people aware of the fact that 2.6 billion people around the world didn`t have access to basic sanitation. Maybe this kind of event should be held in other countries as well, an annual homage to the humble crapper. The arty pans, some worthy of being exhibited in the Loovre, were later auctioned off for charity.
Haven't we all worshipped at the porcelain altar?
On a lighter note Mr Barber, a local sanitation engineer, added, “I`m just obsessed with poo, and it`s not going away. I think there is a viable career in poo, even in a global financial crisis.”
Our community has doubled in number in the past four years. Because of the overwhelming growth, new homes are constantly appearing, sometimes seeming as if they do so overnight. Along with a larger population we’ve experienced an increase of crime as well. And this month was no different.
As I was reading the March 2nd edition of the Nisqually Valley News, I saw that a home in our Clearwood Community suffered $25,000 worth of vandalism damage on February 17th. Among the damages listed was one item that caught my eye. Not only did the perpetrators break doors and ruin walls, but one of the vandals left a brown personalized calling card in the oven.
What I noticed about the article most was the cavalier manner in which the shit was mentioned. “Human fecal matter was also found in the oven.” It was as if the reporter was saying, “Why yes, it’s just some human shit in the oven, that’s all. Making Brownies. Now let’s check out this week’s box scores.” One would think there’s nothing remarkable about someone taking a crap in a major home appliance in Yelm, Washington.
Since the story broke, I’ve heard nothing else on the subject; but I’ll be sure to update if the poopetrator is arrested.
Too many links, too little time to do a links roundup! Let's start with this t-shirt John Poo-Shack spotted at a Hot Topic in his local mall:
Sri-Dabu Dabu says: Poopy Souls is a raunchy character who sings songs about poop, life, sex, and death, among other things. This Christmas album is sure to be enjoyed by fans of the Poop Report, especially such tracks as Christmas on the Poopy Side of Town, Silent (But Deadly) Night, Stick Your Finger (Right Up Your Butt) (which is a song about manual disimpaction), You've Got the Poopy Rhythm (which is a song about taking a shit so hard that it "splits the porcelain right in two"), and Don't You Eat That Poopy Snow.
Michael writes in: "I have a website called Fartsbymail.com. It's a place where you can send a fart in a jar to a friend/foe (and they stink) along with a person message by mail."
Dan has this to say: "A colleague and I have set up a series on YouTube called 'Worlds Most Shocking Toilets'. It aims to uncover shocking toilets around the world and expose them to the public, in the hope that they might be improved as a result. Take a look!"
Tao of Pooh says: "In honour of World Toilet Day on November 12, and of the great work of PoopReport did in building toilets for schools in India, here's a link to the September action sheet of Results Canada to help get more foreign aid funding to build toilets for schoolgirls."
Mean Ol Pooper has hope for desperate NYC incontinents: Diaroogle. "Diaroogle is a mashup allowing the user to search for public toilets in the New York, NY metropolitan area over the Internet or through their mobile phone, using Google Maps technologies and a database of public toilet locations." Meanwhile, Josh has laughs from a sitcom episode based around the premise of fecal forgery.
Chuck sent in this inexplicable situation:
Jeff says: "ToilettingAids.com is a website that offers an add-on toilet accessory for overweight folks. It has a reinforced, oversized seat and a (warm) water wash system for touchless washing. Works for arthritis, etc., too."
Michael say: "I thought you might appreciate this comedy skit that a friend and I put together recently. Seems like it would be up your twisted little alley. It's up ours!"
Little Jack says, "Hiya, thought you might be interested in Shit Box."
John says: "I mailed you a copy of my short film "Poop Dreams" a couple of years ago about a giant piece of poop trying to make it in the NBA. I remember you telling me to contact you if I ever put it on YouTube. Well, I am happy to tell you that "Poop Dreams" is now available for frequent viewing!"
DungDaddy is always keeping his eyes open for pics like this:
Finally, Beth says: "I volunteer to help spread the word about a new free Celiac Disease online support group. As I know this falls within your interest, I thought that you might want to help us in the quest to reach as many people as possible (the more people know about the group, the better help they will get). You can find the group here."
A sewage company in the Nagano prefecture of Japan has a golden idea. Rather than just let the yellow mellow, Nagano Prefecture Suwa Construction Office has decided to mine the city's raw sewage for gold.
And not just from swallowed jewellery that made the trip south! According to the Pink Tentacle, "the Suwa Basin is home to numerous precision machining companies, metal plating facilities and hot springs, which may explain the high concentration of gold in the wastewater sludge."
The plan wasn't initially met with accolades, as the cost of the actual mining was thought to outweigh any benefits. But apparently the plan is working. The company has mined enough of the precious metal to expect the first month's profit to total 5 million yen -- that is, $56,000. In fact, by this spring, the company expects five tons of molten fly ash to yield fifteen million yen, or $167,000. With three tons of ash mined per day, this looks like a promising figure. There seems to be a lot of shine-ola in that shit.
In what has become known as The Shot Heard 'Round the Whirled, John was obliterated by the one lead missile he wasn't built to handle -- a 40-caliber slug inadvertently fired when a patron's handgun fell to the floor as he hiked up his pants.
CPR (Complete Porcelain Reassembly) efforts proved futile, but reports that a weeping manager cradled the dying appliance in his arms until the darkness came are nothing but wishful thinking on my part. The beloved toilet, once up to his rim in turds, was now simply interred, leaving a distraught urinal and a constantly dripping sink behind. Naturally, the role of picking up the pieces fell squarely on the shoulders of a dejected janitor.
The services commemorating John's service were reportedly a solemn affair, with heartbreaking renditions of traditional shitcan funeral dirges Amazing Grease, When the Toilet Roll is Called Up Yonder, and The Wind Beneath My Thighs ringing out to the heavens. Then, for the first time in his wretched existence, John experienced a moment of silence not sandwiched between thunderclap dumps.
Carl's Jr. will no doubt dispatch a team of beef counselors to the area to assist the bereaved and the hungry in coping with their loss. Perhaps the grief-stricken will find solace knowing that, after playing host to more vile bodily fluids than George Michaels' esophagus, wherever he is, John is in a better place now.
As you were so often in life, John, in death you will be missed.
Usually when a guy shows excessive interest in your toilet, you figure he's a potential fan of PoopReport, and you talk up the site accordingly. But beware a man who wants to check out your bowl in the name of good governance: he may be a thief.
This warning comes to us from the Hartford County Police near Baltimore, which tells us of a rash of phony "toilet inspectors" who are much more interested in your jewelry box than your thunder box.
First, your phone will ring. "Hartford County Water and Sewer, ma'am," they'll say authoritatively. "We're doing some field studies to stop rain water and ground water from being discharged into sanitary sewers, and we need to inspect your toilet." You eagerly agree, they show up at your door, and the next thing you know, you're tied up and gagged in your bathtub while some crook tries on your underwear, dances to your Madonna records, eats all the ice cream out of your freezer, and then absconds with your Meema's priceless ruby tiara.
The solution, of course, is to never let anyone in to look at your toilet, right? Wrong. Because the Hartford County Water and Sewer Department really is conducting field studies to stop rain water and ground water from being discharged into sanitary sewers, and they really do need to look at your toilet. The only difference is that instead of calling, they first send you a letter to notify you of their visit.
Authentic county personnel also carry identification, drive marked vehicles, and wear uniforms. Still: guard your toilet well. And stop keeping Grumpa Wilbur's antique diamond-encrusted pocket watch—"I took ‘er off the still-warm body of a dead Kraut!"—on the bathroom sink.
Last month, PoopReport reported on an alarming pattern of porta-potty fires from across the country. Yesterday's New York Times focused narrowly on San Francisco, which appears to be the epicenter of the epidemic.
"Nineteen portable toilets have been deliberately set on fire at construction sites since Nov. 6," says the Times.
At $2,500 each, the economic cost of these fires is growing; but the psychological cost is already enormous. Porta-potties more than just a plastic shed housing that unknown blue chemical; porta-potties are sanctuary! They are relief and comfort for those who need it the most!
PoopReport reiterates its call for toilet mercy, and demands that these Hamass terrorists declare an immediate cease-fire. And I offer a reward of a PoopReport t-shirt and a copy of my book to whoever brings these evildoers to justice.
The Preston Police Force in Lancashire, United Kingdom, upped its numbers for the holiday shopping season by adding five mounted police to the regular shift number. One would think such buttressing of protective supervision would be appreciated by the locals across the board; it's instead become the topic of debate. The reason? The police don’t think that they have to clean up after their horses.
Former Mayor Bill Tyson is among those who believe the police are in the wrong for leaving the horses' droppings behind them. He stated that the thoroughfares of Fishergate were left covered in "half a ton of muck" during the mounted officers' stint, resulting in many of the shoppers "kicking off" (British slang for expressing negative opinion or protesting).
The police responded that the trade-off of cleanliness for safety was one worth paying. Preston Police Inspector Jill Halliwell even went so far as to add that "Horse dung is just recycled grass. There is no disease carried in it and it just washes away."
This is an interesting topic of dissension to me. On one hand, we have shoppers who'd appreciate more police, especially if those police are sitting on animals that can run down purse snatchers. We also have business owners who have opined that the mounted police presence makes them feel safe. On the other hand we have shoppers who might be wearing shoes that cost four hundred pounds, shoes branded by YSL or Manolo Blahnik. We might see businessmen wearing their best suits, only to gaze down and find the cuff of their best brushed wool is caked in horse shit. Who's going to cover that dry cleaning bill? And why is that same businessman reminded to pick up after his Springer Spaniel lest he be awarded a fine?
Personally, I find it irrational for the police to spend the extra money to put five mounted police on patrol, full well knowing there is going to be poop underfoot, when not a bit extra for an hourly street cleaner will be spared. After all, these are the same police who would gladly ticket you for leaving Fido’s doodoo next to their mounts’ road apples.
Whether or not the poop in question is partially-digested hay, I’d be upset if I stepped in it during a day of holiday shopping. I would have most likely taken the time to dress nicely and probably prepared for a day out of shopping and eating. Any plans I might have had for lunching at a swank new restaurant would be shot down once I found my feet and ankles splattered in muck.
Do you think the police in this case should pick up after their horses? Do you think the citizens upset about it are whining? Do you think it would have been worth the extra money for the city to put a few pooper scoopers out and about? Tell us, PoopReporters: how would you react if this happened in your downtown area?
PoopReporters need to keep their eyes open: somebody is killing off toilets one porta-potty at a time.
Right now, San Francisco is on the vanguard of this war on terror. The San Francisco Fire Department issued a notice to construction site managers on Tuesday, warning them of an evildoer targeting man's best friend.
But a search on Flickr reveals that this is far from a localized problem. All across the world, innocent toilets are being targeted!
We PoopReporters are the only people who truly understand the value of a toilet. Each seat is sacred. Each tank is a godsend. Every time you flush the toilet, an angel gets its wings.
They're out there. Keep your eyes open. If toilets are in the crosshairs, it's we who will truly feel the pain.
And San Francisco PoopReporters: next time you see a firefighter, thank him for protecting our country's most precious resource.
In my book (boy, what a great Christmas present!), I explore the dilemma about leaving the toilet seat in the up position or in the down. While I feel that I examined both sides of the argument with a critical eye, LiveScience.com reports one angle that I never even considered: the health of little penises.
From LiveScience.com: "Leave the toilet seat up, some British doctors now say. The reason: a rising trend for heavy wooden and ornamental toilet seats to fall down onto the penises of unsuspecting (and just potty-trained) toddlers."
The rising trend they refer to is a grand total of four incidents of penis crushing in toddlers. Fortunately, none of the kids had any lasting damage (although if a toilet tried to eat my penis, I think I'd develop an unhealthy phobia right then and there).
More than winning the argument of favor of men, though, I'm pointing to this story as further proof of another point in my book: that the news media (including the British Journal of Urology, which published the report suggesting heavy toilet seats should be banned) gives undue weight to stories about toilets while simultaneously giving less scrutiny to the facts. I say this because of the phrase "growing/rising trend" appearing twice in the article, identifying two trends without providing proof for either one. The first is quoted above; the second comes from Dr. Joe Philip of Leighton Hospital in England. "We are concerned that the growing trend of heavy toilet seats poses a risk not only to {boys'} health, but to their confidence."
I would like to know a) if four incidents of penis mushing genuinely constitutes a trend when compared to the number of toddlers who successfully navigated childhood while maintaining their members' structural integrity; and b) what market research they have to prove that consumers are buying heavier toilet seats today than in the past.
If this were a warning about AIDS, both claims would be backed up by sources and methodology. Even though this is a warning about toilets, it's irresponsible of the media not to provide the same.
Once again, the failure of New York City's municipal government to provide basic services for its biggest tourist attraction is on full display in the guise of a publicity stunt. For the third straight year, Charmin has opened luxury toilets in the heart of Times Square, providing for free the service you'd otherwise have to slink into Starbucks to avail.
What's new this year is the fact that the toilets are going to be open during the New Years' Eve celebrations. These celebrations are notorious for their lack of facilities: you arrive eight hours early, you jam yourself into a pen with the rest of the cattle, and you either go in your pants or you don't go at all. This year, at least a tiny fraction of the massive crowd will be able to take some comfort as they stand around in the freezing cold.
Still, the focus should not be on New Years. It should be on the rest of the year, when shoppers have nowhere to drop.
Below is a picture of Joey Fatone opening the Times Square toilets for Charmin. There is a very obvious joke about his career here; the first person to make it will be banned from PoopReport for being no more creative than an Associated Press headline writer.
Like any narcissistic author, I have a Google Alert set up to tell me whenever my name appears in the news. Today Google told me that my work has inspired high culture! From Tigerweekly.com, LSU's online student newspaper:
Black Box puts crap on stage
Beginning on November 12 and running through Sunday, November 16, LSU’s Hopkins Black Box Theatre will examine the way we poop. Seriously. The production, titled "Crap Happens," straddles the line between silly and serious, taking an in-depth look at the human excretory experience. Based on the 2007 book by David Praeger, Poop Culture, the production features an eight-person cast. In a recent press release, director Danielle Dick McGeough explained, "The rules that guide how, when, and where one goes to the restroom can reveal a lot about contemporary society. Social class divisions, issues of shame and the body, and notions of filth and disgust can all be explored through our defecatory practices." Think about that the next time you take a seat on the throne. Tickets are available for a suggested donation of just $5.
The press release on the play's website corroborates the source of inspiration: my book.
I'll admit that I'm a little offended they didn't ask me for permission, or my blessing, or my thoughts on the script. Not that I would have told them not to do it (although my publisher would certainly have demanded usage rights).
I always imagined that a creative director could turn my book into a great film (and earn me lots of money in the process). So I'm quite curious as to how they've turned it into a play. Are there any PoopReporters who can attend and let us know?
Turd terrorism became real for two families in Sydney, Australia, recently. Stephen and Jessica Whyte and their three boys were digging into a free gelato dessert when Mrs. Whyte suddenly jumped up, aghast. What she had eaten did not taste--or smell--like hazelnut ice cream. Mrs. Tina Elliott, who with husband Patrick had accompanied their friends the Whyte's to the Coogee Bay Hotel, said, "They've served us poo--there's nothing else it can be. It absolutely stunk." Mrs. Whyte subsequently became violently ill.
The incident happened October 5, when the two families went to the Coogee Bay Hotel to watch the NRL Grand Final match. The television sound was so low that the guests complained three times to management before anyone helped them. Later, when the children wanted ice cream, the price was quoted at nineteen dollars, upon which Mr. Whyte angrily left the hotel to search for cheaper ice cream. The hotel's response, according to Mrs. Whyte: "This huge bowl of ice cream arrived at our table as a 'sorry for all the hassle.' There were four scoops, including vanilla, chocolate, and hazelnut. At the bottom, there appeared to be the chocolate." (Note: The juxtaposition of "bottom" and "chocolate" appears fortuitous.) "Greedily, I went for it ahead of the kids. Thank heavens I did. The stench, the taste... I spat the food into a napkin, and immediately I was sick."
"There was no doubting what it was. The whole family became hysterical. My poor son screamed at one of their staff: 'You made my mum eat poo!'"
Mrs. Whyte thought a staff member was "behind" the incident. "[The feces] were definitely planted there to get somebody who gave them trouble. It was in a frozen ice-cream bowl, and the feces had been frozen into it as well."
Far from being apologetic or conciliatory, though, the hotel has strenuously denied any fault, instead blaming the Whytes for being money-grubbing, accusing them (through pub manager Tony Williams) of demanding a million dollars "shut-up money," as it emerged they have links to a rival pub company. The Whytes poo-poo this suggestion, saying the hotel is using whatever means it has to defame them.
The Whytes have waited for two weeks for any apology from the hotel, to no avail. However, during that time, they were able to have a sizeable portion of the offending ice cream tested. It proved to contain, indeed, a stool sample, lightly mixed with ice cream, according to the National Measurement Institute, which found that "The sample has an offensive odor and physical properties similar to human excreta."
Recently the Whyte family received a letter from Tony Williams, representing the hotel, which said in part, "If" -- and it's me who emphasizes the IF -- "the incident did happen, as claimed, then it may well have been an act of industrial sabotage--with the hotel as a victim alongside your family."
When asked later about the case, Williams said it was now a legal issue that would be "vigorously defended... We are aware of the allegation and are treating it as extremely suspicious... We categorically stand behind the high quality of our food and the exemplary hygiene standards set in the new brassiere kitchen."
Mrs. Whyte has insisted, in spite of the money demanded in the suit, "This isn't about money. It's about making sure it never happens again."
Inquiring reporters wonder if, in view of the great advances in recent forensic science, whether the feces in question could be DNA tested, and the donor, if still employed at the Coogee Bay Hotel, found through matching samples.
Pennsylvania City Ordered To Pay Damages For Unconstitutional Arrest
When Bilgepump reported last year about Dawn Herb’s arrest for yelling at her toilet, I along with many Poopreporters were outraged. We questioned the validity of her arrest due to the fact that she was merely exercising her First Amendment rights when she declared a verbal Jihad on her piece of shit shitter.
It seems that since Ms. Herb could not grab her balls and get down to business, she grabbed the other two things a smart woman grabs these days when she feels her rights have been violated – a lawyer and someone from the ACLU. Thusly armed, Ms. Herb threatened a lawsuit, and in an effort to prevent a civil suit, the city of Scranton has awarded her $19,000.00.
The mayor of Scranton, Chris Doherty, stated that “"Just because you wear a uniform doesn’t allow you to make your own personal judgments. You have to follow the law." Well, yes, Chris, you do.
For a small landlocked European country, Austria has offered up many remarkable things to the world. For hundreds of years they have given us delicious cakes and sweets; back in the 1930s we got the diminutive and furiously-tempered Adolf Hitler; and more recently on the scene has been the Governor of California. But this summer Eisenstadt, the provincial capital of Burgenland, launched an even bigger surprise: toilets erupting with giant hailstones.
Eisenstadt is an old town, with many historic buildings dating back hundreds of years. It can safely be presumed that much of its drainage system has not been modernized due to the disruption and damage such efforts would cause these buildings. (For this reason, many of the main cities in Europe still have sewers that have not been upgraded in well over a hundred years.)
In July, after temperatures had ventured towards ninety-five degrees, the area was deluged by a freak hailstorm. One apartment building in particular caught the brunt of the storm as the golf ball-sized hailstones forced their way up the waste pipes and blew out of the occupants' toilets like mini Krapatoas.
A likely cause is that the building is located near a junction of sewer mains which, once blocked by the ice, forced the hail through the routes of least resistance: the indoor plumbing.
Silvia Streit, a resident, displayed a great sense of stoic resistance. "I grabbed a board and put it over the toilet, but the pressure was so great I ended up sitting on the board as the hail flowed through the flat and down the stairs."
Compare this reaction to that of Martin Bierbauer, another resident, who was on his pan at the time. "Suddenly hailstones the size of golf balls started exploding out of the toilet like a popcorn machine. There was an avalanche of ice that filled the toilet, then the entire flat. I ran downstairs with the hailstones following me, and other residents did the same."
This was definitely an unpleasant event: having fecally-covered icy grapeshot shooting out of your toilet is scary. But this is also an interesting reflection of modern society these days. Look at the reactions: Silvia metaphorically hoisted up her undies and took personal responsibility to limit damages with her sturdy wooden plank. Martin, however, just stood there, trousers around his ankles, watching as the festering, frozen mess consumed his bathroom. Then, as he admitted, he ran away.
Martin is now demanding substantial damages; yet he was unwilling to do anything to help while the event took place. I know which of these two I'd want on my side if this sort of toilet terror happened to me.
