Eric’s European Elimination Edventure

Don’t you think that, with all of the incredible miniaturization and high-tech evolution our consumer products have seen recently that the bulky, injury prone excrement receptacle would have been replaced by something better?

The toilet is ugly and uninviting, It seems stuck in the past.  I want a vaccuum-like device to snag my poo and then clean my yahoo.  But Europe has beaten us to this type of innovation.

 The pblic facilities in many countries on that stupendous continent are lit on the inside with blue bulbs.  Upon entering for my first deuce (number 2) in a European WATER CLOSET (?), I was tokd by the man who was employed by the elimination franchise that it makes it impossible for junkies to shoot up because they can’t find their veins in the blue light – AWESOME – That’s what I’m talking about AMERICA!  Elimination Evolution.  Here they really WATCH your performance and ofer you goodies during and immediately after your donation.  The THEY ask for a donation.  They prefer currency though.  Very confusing.

 Here’s the cooly cool part.  The stalls.  You go in and there is no toilet.  Nope.  Just a cube that looks (in the blue light) like the dressing room in Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory with a hole on the floor.  The cubicle is sealed shut to prevent any strange exit routes (as in underneath the divider and into the next stall).  I finally got the gist (or so I thought)  and squatted like my fan Squanto and dropped off my African children from my anal caravan near, and sometimes in, the hole.  It was crazy, but the craziest thing was when I heard a beep and the door locked.  Panic ensued and I re panted my bottom and began pulling at the door.  I couldn’t get out.  Then, as if the holding cell I was in became one big shower, water began to fire at me from all angles.  I was getting drenched with a mystery fluid bathed in blue light in a country where I couldn’t understand ANY of the now frantic yelling at me after I had just shit on the floor.  What was the fluid?  It certainly was no Evian…  It smelled like pool water and a girl fart.

The soaking ceased, my doody disappeared, and the door disengaged its lock.  I emerged to a hysterical group of friends and natives as I was soaked in girl fart liquid.  I felt the desire to shoot some heroin but I knew that it would be impossible.  I mulled over the irony of this for a moment then, exasperated, left the facility without paying the toilet caddy.   My only saving grace was that it was raining that day and I blamed my wetness on the weather.  The smell, well, I just told everyone who asked that I was into kinky sex.  Looking back now, as I write this, that wasn’t that funny.  I had thought it was.  I guess that’s why I kept getting such venomous looks from those who I hit with my witty one-liner.

The event was a disaster, but it inevitably compelled me to ask locals about this mechanism.  The skinny is that The stalls lock after a certain amount of time and essentially behave like a car wash for 30 seconds or so to sanitize the area and redirect any misplaced feces.  GENIUS!  Now THAT’S WHAT I MEAN!  Elimination evolution at its finest.  Here in America we’re still dancing behind closed doors trying to trigger, or to NOT trigger the laser device that flushed the bowl automatically.  We have to catch up to those Europeans (You’re a-peein’).  Despite hosing me down with non-potable water and shearing a few yeatrs off of my life, they taught me a lesson:  The toilet CAN improve!  There is a future for Elimination Evolution!

Names of the cities have been withheld because I forgot where I was when this happened. 

Naked Eric’s Goat Haiku

I think that it is important to learn stuff. Stuff is a word so rife with contextual bending, it is pure bliss. Stuff the verb, stuff the general, multipurpose noun, Stuff the scurrilous term for those things best left unsaid. “He did STUFF to her then got STUFF all over her face. He’s into that STUFF.”

Enter the Haiku. Haiku is stuff and I am a fan. Hence, I wrote a ‘ku to commemorate the beauty of nature and the sleek, understated vessel that it can be conveyed with. 5 syllables, 7 syllables, then another 5’er. My ‘ku is called:

The Mountain Goat

Oh brave, furry goat

Stands alone, cold like the air

Here is warm penis.

What do you think? I can and will write some more. This one is special and means a lot to me. i hope that is warms you up as it does to me each time I ponder its image.

-NEThe Mountain Goat

Thompson – Neo Nazi Metal From Croatia?

I don’t know much.

But I know I love you.

And that may be all I need to know…

But seriously. This tough guy Thompson is playing in New York City.  I guess he was inspired by the Iranian leader’s speech at Columbia.  Yummy – the left wing silliness again farts on what freedom means in the context of bettering the lives of the people.

If you don’t know who this Thompson dude is, click here: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/main.jhtml?xml=/news/2007/09/28/wnazi128.xml

Essentially, they paraise the “achievements” of Nazi-related groups and inspire their fans to salute them in a way eerily similar to the hail Hitler ditty.  Yup.  Oh, and if these facts weren’t a bit constipating themselves, the show sold out and they just HAD to add another show.

Hey, I’m no political nerd.  However, when, in the span of about 5 weeks, two of the largest and most powerful, violent hate groups send their leaders here to chat or jam out with the boys while promoting their message of death to America and/or the minority religions within, I think that the left wing nutcases are letting their ideas of freedom put us in serious danger.

Oh, and California is on fire.  All of it.  It may fall off into the ocean.  I called the fire’s agent and the Governator Schwarzenneger and asked why the heck their state is burning.  They simply let me in on the secret that California is jealous.  If New York can screw with the minds of it’s people by allowing mass murderers and their supporters to preach freely in our city, then Cali can outdo NY by burning down celebrity’s homes.  It’s like Katrina for rich people.  If I hear of ONE charity that wants to help raise money for the “poor” victims of the fires in Southern California, I will throw a lighter at a surfer baby in Malibu.  Please, DON’T be fooled by this.  Be fooled by this.  Look, I’m a famous hot dog scarfer.  I scarf the scarf.  Like Kobayashi.  You know what I mean?  Let’s hear it.  Tell me your what you ideas you may share with me.A Collage of Thompson Fans & The Infamous Salute

Blinky Thinky ‘cuz Naked Eric Is Stinky

Malcolm Gladwell wrote blink.  I read Blink.  My roomie (read: room8) it and is trying to describe it to a friend RIGHT NOW!  Like, this is live!  I am in a bad mood.  Sad me.  Anyway, back to the story.  There was no story.  Jason Varitek…BASE HIT!

She asked me how I would classify Blink.  She asked if it would be “Self Help”.  I pondered.  Naked Eric is a man who is rarely bereft of verbage.  I was bereft of verbage.  I said lamely “Business, maybe?  Maybe Sociology?”  She looked at me like a child and like someone who wanted to say, “Thanks, idiot”.

What do you think?  Blinky thinky?  How would you describe it or classify it?  Ummm, tell me quick so I can redeem myself to Vanessa, my dear room8.

Thanks,

Naked Eric Sans Stiffy