Would a rose smell as sweet?

A quick new blog for you, of note. That is to say that the blog is of note, not that you are of note. Because you're not. Not really. But we'll avoid that path of analytical self-importance in the cosmic scheme of things for right now because we've something much, Much, MUCH more important:

Urinals.

Yes, urinals. Men face these beauties on an almost daily basis as we run between our jobs, school, lives and activities. Women might be less familiar, but the fact remains, they know what one is. And what it is for.

Since the dawn of recorded time, people have had to relieve themselves. Men possessed a relative advantage over women in this regard, a trait we like to call "able to whip it on out," or the acronym ATWIOO. This is of course why men have been able to subjugate women and came to the realization that they are superior to the fairer sex, since they can stand while taking a pisser.

Note: Before you feminists attack me, please note the tone of that statement. And also please realize that this idea is of course false. Women have been able to control men for long before men have been capable of realizing it. So who's really in control here? This is the simply the result of the dominating male perspective that makes the concept of manipulation and social intrigue less important than not sitting or squatting to pee.

Anyway, back on subject. So the urinal was invented. It allows men to go quickly, conviently, and with the added bonus of sizing up the other males around you since in many places there are no partitions. This is particularly true in stadiums or sports arenas, where the concept of trough urinals have come into existence.

France once had public urinals located on the sidewalks or in parks. Alas, most of these Temples of Piss have been removed, and only one exists now, in Paris, known as a "vespasienne."



Now all this is very interesting, but why do I bring it up? Because of companies like Toto. Toto is a toilet company that specializes in luxury toilets. Sure there's nothing terribly exciting about that - their site indicates a sense of modern art come to live in the bathroom.

And what is life, if not art?

Clark Sorenson has brought that idea, of the world and your life as a canvas being painted upon, to your private moments in the bathroom. As any great artist could tell you, you can't make beauty without shit. Apparently that goes for piss too.

Stop and smell the roses.



Sorenson has created a product that... well for the life of me I can't see men buying. Not even most homosexual men. Sure I love art. Sure, we all have to go. Sure the bathroom and the act of using is the great equalizer. No one's shit smells like roses, but the ability to pee in one isn't really all that appealing either.

To be honest, most men get into the restroom, use it, and get out. It isn't a casual social gathering place as it might be for women. In fact the prime people who might purchase these will be women. I don't know if they think that men will love the flowery touch (although I doubt that deeply) or if it's all part of an attempt to de-masculinize society, or what...

Still, here is an interesting case of a product being produced that will sell to a market of buyers who aren't the intended user of the product.

It's an intersting concept. But not all that unusual now that I think about it. It's what parents do to their children all the time with toys. Or cars. Or education. And the children don't appreciate it either. So maybe I'm being too harsh. Art is art, after all. And I'm entitled to art always. Even when I'm unloading all my liquid wastes.

So why not? Sign me up for a lilly, maybe an orchid and of course a snap-dragon or two.

Check out his website: Clark Sorenson Urinals

Oh Canada...

Canada, for all the grief you get, how can we not envy some of your finer points, eh? My brother's serving a mission in Canada right now. He loves it. There are also lots of trees, beer, and a unique french twist on North American society. But even more than those, there's this.






Not a great video, but a boy can dream, can't he?

Happiness is...n't?

Candidicy. Candidcy. Canidicy. Candidly. Smile, you're on candid camera.

I sit, here, in my chair which leans back way too far, (and doesn't stop, mind you) in the library and type. Yes, now I've painted you a portrait of the moment I'm in which you will forever appreciate. If, for some CRAZY reason, that doesn't do it for you, allow me to tell you this: I sit next to a porn-crazed young man, who seems neither to care nor worry that he's looking at explicit photos in a very public place. And on the other side is a delightful young woman, planning her wedding. At least, she's studying online wedding dresses with great intent. Aside from studying their respective subjects quite... obsessively, what is the interest in these two young students?

I commend them both. On a thursday at 10:52 am, in between my theater class and my political science class, I am treated to two equally different perspectives on the world. The female mind, which from a young age fantasizes about the wedding, the beauty, the pageantry, and the chance to feel like a princess for once (or twice, if you've been featured on "My Sweet Sixteen" on MTV) in their lives.


Men, on the other hand (unless you're a homosexual, in which case you've been planning your wedding for years, until you realize you're not sure who'll wear the dress) are interested in sex. From a young age where they realize they have reproductive organs, it becomes the selfish desire to fufill the hormonal instinct to make them feel good. Marriage is a step to a rather constant booty-call.

No doubt I deserve some lambasting for that comment, but I don't think women understand the level of men's sexual drive. Truth be told it's a somewhat sad generalization, but perhaps a true one nevertheless. Especially here in Mormon Country. Many men in the Real World (again, no reference, or maybe some reference to the MTV hit) avoid marriage for years because it ties down their options. Why do you think there is a rash of commitment phobia? Whereas to mormons, it's the opening of the gates to a sexual revolution. Don't believe me? Go on a mission.


Yes, I said go on a mission. Now despite the intriguing stats about men hooking up with each other on their mission, I will focus instead on the discussions which take place regarding women. Missionaries are dirty. (Apologies are handed out like tissue to anyone who may be saddened over this news.)


It's a simple fact because we always want what we can't have, and mormons can't have sex. But missionaries can't even have female company. Naturally their thoughts, their conversations, and their secret masturbatory sessions in the shower turn to the fairer sex. Construed, alas, in a much dirtier way.


How many conversations about "past sins" or slipups with girlfriends are reveled in? How many fantasies about a quick blowjob on the way from the temple to the cultural hall reception are spun? How many lists of "hot places to do it" are dreamt up to bide time until the real deal? Personally I lucked out. I had two many other issues I was working through to be so caught up in the sex fantasy. But don't think I didn't hear it from virtually every other missionary I knew.

Missionaries return from the mission anxious, pent-up, and ready for marriage. Strike that, ready for sex. And since that's a no-no with out the bells, marriage = sex. I hardly think that men who've spent the last two years running around a foreign country, or even our own, with only the company of other men, focused solely on teaching people "what god has to say to you, gentiles" is really ready for a relationship spanning... eternity?

One would think that a great deal of thought would be placed upon the selection of someone you believe you'll NEVER get away from.

Instead, hormones take a bit more precedence in men's reasoning than they should, and women who are ready to finally do something with their lives (which in the church equates to matronly duty) form a dynamic companionship who's spark will eventually explode. To their credit, this is usually built up and kept in check for years longer than the initial courting rituals that lead to it (avg. 2 months?). This is thankfully accomplished to a long set of church imposed rules, hyper-activity with religious callings and duties, accidental children, peer and church sanctioned guilt, and a dash of prozac.


The explosion will come, quietly or otherwise, on the wings of actuality and in that clever messenger realization. Everyone pictures how things are going to be. Sometimes we're close, but never dead on. And the harder we cling to these pictures, the more unprepared we are for the reality of it. When she realizes he's not prince charming, he's just some man who happened to say the right things to her and be there when she needed, she'll be devestated. When he discovers that a marriage isn't constant sex, that there's a personality to be reckoned with, and a lot of independence forfeited, he'll panic. Neither of these realizations make these people bad. Just rushed. Rushing so quickly to get to something they thought they wanted they won't realize they're not paying attention to what they're really recieving. And that's a hard thing to take.

Maybe it can be worked out and you can grow to love the one you're now tied to. Or maybe not. The worst part is that some of these marriages won't end. Neither will acknowledge how unhappy they truly are and find scapegoats and diversions to take up the time they ought to be using for self-analysis.

But that's painful and pain should be avoided at all costs.

This is a broad, sweeping stereotype, and I know many a happy couple who don't seem to have this problem. And yet, there are those, too many it seems, who fall within it. The church is not exactly my point of attack here, because people, as the LDSers will teach us, have free agency. A truth, and a convient truth for the church structure, because you're always the vicitim of yourself. I can't agree with that more. We all have our hang-ups, but make them your own hang-ups, and don't accept programming or instilled hang ups.

Men and women. Two very different creatures who, in a straight, gay, or otherwise world, are just looking for happiness. All we do is motivated by what will make us happy. To the man left of me, it's large breasted women taking it hardcore. To the girl right, it's a knight on a white horse with a diamond ring. To me, it's writing nasty blogs about a culture I can't escape.

To each his own.

Beware a darkened sky...

Somedays, I sit down and think, "gods, where did all the time go?" Usually it is in that critical moment when I am three minutes late for work, cursing whatever primeval ancestor dreamt up the notion of a "day job" and have to run out the door to my indentured servitude.

My indentured servitude of materialism.

Oh if only I didn't want so many things. But I do. Like a Bat Avatar. Haven't you always just wanted one? Oh-so-cute, and unlike other technological pets (giga-pets, etc) they don't need to play jumprope, won't piss themselves and WON'T die on you! Here's the one I'm interested in:



His name is Fug-Bert.

The glass is full, of half and half.

School schmool.

Who said going to school was a good idea? What do we really gain in measurable benifits from attending "institutions of higher learning." Higher learning than what? Elementary school? Some of the people I know are still in elementary school, despite attending college.

Or high school. Which incidentally is where most kids grades 9-12 start using drugs. Sorta shocking right? I didn't expect that either. I don't think that's a coincidence (or that it's called "high school," government conspiracy? I think so).

And yet, here I am, "learning." Or gaining important skills like how to BS a report on a book I didn't read. Truthfully though, I shouldn't be down of the process, since those are life lessons. How to cover, or blame others when things at work fall through, are unfinished, or were bad ideas. Getting in good with your boss, or teachers, and having dirt ready on other students should the presume to get in your way of what you "deserve. Yes, these are all very important and where would we be without years and years of our lives devoted to a building and random "learned" adults who have four months to become an important, trusted, respected, and integrel part of our lives so they may instill us with the knowledge and ideas to help shape a brighter future. Or at least one with a 60 watt bulb.

We should re-instate secretive family trades. Like swordmaking, in Japan, or wine pressing in Europe, or tribal annihilation in Africa. That way, you only learn what you need to learn, none of this "well-rounded" b.s. or writing term papers about the purpose of the placenta for biology. Course a lot of people probably wouldn't end up literate, but it'd be a simpler time, when libraries weren't so damn crowded.

We could have trade schools, with apprentices. You could learn things like farming, metallurgy, myspace-ing, game design, or wild giraffee training. Yes, it truly would be a utopian society. Inner cities already work on this principle, with trouble teens being taken underwing by gangs who teach them the art of killing others who wear the wrong color, or if they manage to escape that fate, enjoy the benifits of learning from their parents on how to wring money out of the government and get cable, without actually going to a school, a "job" or any of those silly inconviences. Seriously, what happened to the days when people did what they felt like (or what their family and social status indicated they should feel like)?

Truthfully, its simply that Christmas break is over, I'm on my feet, running around again, and happy to be learning. Just not happy about commuter drives, homework, and tests. Alright, I'm over it. 2007, let's do this shit.