The process wherein you become your father is long, memorable, and completely horrifying. One day you’re dutifully changing your oil at 3000 miles, only to be reminded that no one does that anymore.
… or your painfully enduring some meeting that’s prolonged by the speaker feeling it necessary to answer his smart phone at every ring, holding the balance of the table a yawning captive.
The phone may be smart, but the SOB using it has the IQ of a cucumber.
What was once the childish wide smile with face pressed against the fly shop glass has become the “Bah, Humbug face” – worn only because you own everything good already, and the only thing missing is new, which may or may not be good.
Once we broke the fifty-bazillion modulus barrier, we listened patiently to the superlatives and dismissed ownership out of hand, we’d fallen for that lure back when we could achieve modulus at the mere sight of a sale, or just a fistful of red saddle hackle. Now that we’re in our dotage it isn’t cutting edge carbon technology we’re seeking, it’s just a quiet moment on the john.
And if it has a remote, heated seat, hidden bidet, has quadraphonic stereo, and has the suction power of a Death Star’s tractor beam, including all air in the bowl treated by carbon filtration, the price is goddamn academic …
After a lifetime of icy duck blinds, frozen limbs due to prolonged immersion in icy steelhead water, suffering all manners of discomfort and poor sanitation, handfuls of leaves that prove less so, I’d consider dumping six grand on a bonafide engineering marvel.
The touch screen controls may not have been such a good idea, at least not for us fisher-types.
What? No book reading app?
And I thought I had the cutting edge Kohler toilet. You know, the one that can flush golf balls?
Mark
All that space age technology doesn’t change the fact that you are going to plaster soft-serve-I-drank-a bottle-of-jager-with-my-beerbrats-last-night death all over the “bidget” and spend the next few minutes with a scrub brush apologizing to HAL 9000…
…”Damn, Dave. Eat a fiber pill.”
Almost certainly, but the real question will be “now that you’re armed with a remote, will you lift the lid first?”
I am not sure but I do not think that toilet is ADA compliant.
“…plaster soft-serve-I-drank-a bottle-of-jager-with-my-beerbrats-last-night death all over the “bidget”…”. AL, you didn’t use the outhouse at Pyramid Lake last monday did you?
Big,
No, but I did eat a fiber pill.
Better hope that automatic lid never goes out after a late night drunken tacobell binge. You may end up finding yourself plunging the sink the next morning. I myself would go in the yard but that guy in the high rise apartment is gonna have to get creative. He could go in the elevator and blame it on a hobo or something.