Save Bubby's Urinal!

For over ten years, male patrons of Bubby's Pie Company [1] in Tribeca have had the unique pleasure of peeing into a really big, really old urinal. A porcelain monolith of staggering girth, peeing at this goliath evokes a bygone era of excretory opulence -- Gatsbyesque fancy-lads pittering away the evening's cordials, Gershwin drifting from the barroom, the tickling of the ivories drowned out only by the tinkling of the finest urine from the finest penises in all New York Society.

How such an extraordinary relic ended up at Bubby's is anyone's guess. Its past, unknown but surely fantastic,

Note the Altoids tin for dimensional comparison. Yes, your bathtub is that big.

exists only in our imagination; its present, however, as subject of endless post-bathroom conversation, and as feature in the BBC documentary Flush: Toilets of the World, is about to end. Sanitary idolatry is giving way to the pedestrian reality of restaurant management: the dang thing, so big and so wide, is just too much in the way.

PoopReport is dedicated to the intellectual appreciation of poop humor. Coincident with our academic celebration of humanity's most universal experience is enthusiastic appreciation of that which makes it more interesting. As such, to allow this commodious landmark to end up on the next garbage barge would be a crime; and so we embark on a mission to find this orphaned apparatus a loving home.

Bubby's has officially bequeathed the urinal to PoopReport. Alas, my apartment is too small to install it; and my roommates frowned in unison at my suggestion of converting it to a coffee table. And so I offer this cry to the public: this is a fully functioning, ready-made object of aesthetic and experiential wonder. Surely a bathroom appropriate to its stature -- and accommodating of its carriage -- can be found!

In the ideal situation, this prodigious receptacle will find its place of honor at some posh gentleman's club, or in a wing of Gracie Mansion. But while dignity and splendor is ideal, preservation is paramount. Any men's room will do -- or, if your clientele appreciates irony, even a woman's room might, in desperation, suffice.

The urge this urinal meets is prosaic; but the experience it creates is singular. This urinal is a bit of history, a taste of luxury, a conversation piece, and -- if all that isn't enough -- an avenue to free publicity. Somewhere out there is an altruistic establishment with a big heart and a bigger bathroom. For the sake of this city -- for the betterment of mankind! -- open your arms [2] to this poor, incredible urinal!