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Explosive Journalism - Opinion Columns by Michael Giardina

             Hilarious articles, funny columns, blatant journo-scolding.


Boil, boil, Toilet and Trouble
by Michael Giardina

I stared at the toilet with conviction, determined to prove that telekinesis is a myth. "Bubble!" I yelled at the toilet, concentrating with all my might "Boil!"

And then it happened. A grave belching was followed by large, odious, undulating waves of water exploding from my toilet. This was all mid-stream. I hadn't even flushed. Thank God I stand. I call for help.

The landlord bends over, peers into a hole, then tugs on a piece of rubber that is wedged into a large metal pipe. "You might want to stand back," he says, "Sometimes these things blow waste in every direction."

I stepped back and watched eagerly, praying for a glorious show, a fantastic splatter.

He stares at a steady stream of water pouring from the pipe. "That's weird," he says, "Where do you suppose that water is going?"

I'm familiar with gravity, so I am guessing ... down, the general direction of the earth's core. I mean, are there more options? Neither of us understands the complicated piping. Thank God somebody else takes care of sewage, eh?

If nothing else, this fiasco taught me one important lesson: We smart college brainiacs would be screwed if we were stranded on a desert island to fend for ourselves. One sad remix: Lord of the Cries. We have no clue how 90 percent of the things we use daily are made.

If that guy with a giant metal snake didn't know how to crank the demon into the depths of our streets and whir at the sludge, what would we do? Tie Shaquille O'Neal and Yao Ming to a two-by-four shove them down a hole and hope their fingers are agile enough?

Seriously, I unraveled six rolls of Bounty paper towels to clean my soiled floors. It's so absorbent, but how the hell do you quilt paper? I'd even be hard-pressed to design one of those little brown rolls for convenient quilted-paper dispersal.

Then, to make sure the bathroom was clean of bacteria, I sprayed the whole room in Lysol disinfectant spray. Maybe it's just me, but if I had to find a way to make alkyl dimethyl benzyl ammonium saccharinate, I think I'd rather kill a man for his last Klondike bar and then die a happy, unburdened man.

I mean, could any of you folks actually build an aqueduct? I dare someone here to create a fully functioning, miniature, scale replica of Davis' sewage system. I'll donate a shot glass of love to the first successful student.

It's simple: The science behind every invention that has forcibly and irrevocably changed the course of human history is almost completely alien to college students.

Therefore, I think every graduate should be forced to first minor in something I like to call super-anti-oligopee-republi-dumbo-economics. Folks, it is time to learn the basics.

Every college student should be able to plant a garden that can completely sustain personal needs, make paper from scratch, create a system that safely disposes of waste, form utensils from both clay and metal, construct a light bulb, build a simple one-room house and create pants, shoes and shirts from scratch.

So, I challenge all readers to participate in a social experiment. For one whole day, don't use any material object that you aren't capable of making for yourself. If a product contains chemicals you can't find or produce, don't use it. Don't know how to sew? No traditional clothes today. Try leaves, unless of course, you don't know how to plant trees. And finally, if you don't know how to create a sewage system or unclog roots from pipes, you don't get to use the porcelain throne.




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