December 10th, 2007
In a unisex bathroom I leave the toilet seat up.
Here’s my thinking, If the man who follows me in pisses, that toilet seat will remain dry. Put the seat down, though, and there’s a twenty-five percent chance he wont lift it. That means you, woman, get to sit on his pee — or you have to go to the trouble to clean the seat.
So, no, to the three or four women who’ve expressed strong negative opinions on my practice, I am not being a rude prick.
I have reliable intelligence on womens’ bathroom habits. A number of them — known as standers — are too germ-phoblic to lower their own cushiony parts onto the seat. They straddle, bowlegged, over the porcelain — seat down — and then pee. This results in a mess. It would be a very easy thing for the stander to lift the seat (yes, grab a little piece of toilet paper if you wish to keep the cooties off you hands).
Next subject — hand-washing. After a bowel movement, of course I wash. E. coli belongs in your gut, not on the outside of your body. Certainly not on your hands.
But I do not wash my hands when I urinate. Unless it’s for show (there are those circumstances). First, I seldom or never piss on my hands. More important, urine is sterile. It may be the only sterile body fluid.
Ah, more than one critic has said, but you have just handled your penis. Indeed. But my penis was not hanging from the dirty strap on the bus. Nor did it brush the crumbs off a filthy countertop at Denny’s. It did not hold a wrench, pencil, baseball, or carpet-beater. And it did not pick my nose. My penis has rested, since my very recent hot shower, in freshly laundered tightie-whities.
Cleanliness has been a bogus industry. Antiseptic soaps, horse-collar toilet seat covers, hot air hand-dryers, and automatic flush systems, just to name a few.
The immune system. Use it or lose it.