The Manly Arts: Toilet Repair

Gentlemen: You really should be able to fix a toilet.

I’m not saying that calling a plumber to do this job makes you a weenie — no, I would never suggest that. But replacing the guts of your toilet is a simple thing that you can actually do yourself — and it will impress other people in your household.

Speaking of home repairs, nobody’s going to fault you for bringing in an electrician; electricity can kill you or burn your house down — but what’s the worst that can happen with plumbing? You get wet.

No need to get into specifics on how to do it here, that’s what the internet is for. Suffice to say all you really need is a pair of pliers and maybe a screwdriver– and the only pliers you should have are Channellocks. A couple of bottles of beer couldn’t hurt, either.

After an hour or so, you can transform your anemic toilet into a supersonic poop machine that whisks away waste in a ferocious whirlpool of fury. You may get up in the middle of the night and flush it, just to marvel at how awesome it is — and how talented you are for making it happen. But that would be a waste of water.

Writing Lesson #47

Some people will never use one word when two words will do.

If composing a road sign they would write, “Bring your vehicle to a complete halt,” instead of “STOP.”

This is the sort of thing that makes editors and teachers want to beat somebody over the head with a copy of The Elements of Style. Strunk and White may be a small book, but that would still get you fired.

So, what do you tell the writer? How about this:

You are not getting paid by the word. Instead, imagine that I gave you $400 and for each word you use I will take back one dollar. You get to keep whatever you don’t spend. I bet that would convince you to cut out unnecessary words and phrases, wouldn’t it?

Remember: it’s your job to stomp out verbosity. And if my suggestion doesn’t work, let the beatings begin.

Stayin’ Alive

I started EMT class this week, figuring 50-years-old is a good time to begin something completely new. Some guys get a motorcycle; I’m getting an ambulance.

Naturally, there will be sessions on CPR, which I expect will unteach any bad habits I learned in prior classes — but the fact is, even if you haven’t spent hours kneeling on the floor pounding on practice dummies, you can be of assistance. Exhibit A is this awesome video:

I have heard people recommend that you give compressions to the beat of Another One Bites the Dust, but that’s not very optimistic, is it?

Vinnie Jones is hilarious, as you know if you’ve seen Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels or Snatch — two spectacular movies by Guy Ritchie from before he married Madonna. If you haven’t seen them, go rent them. Just remember you may need to turn on the subtitles to understand what they’re saying.

The Dog Vote

Dogs can not vote, but that doesn’t stop me from speculating about their politics.

I tend to think of our dogs as libertarians: they oppose any sort of regulation or interference in their personal business. They don’t want anything impinging on their freedom to be dogs, but like many libertarians, they are also full of contradictions. For example, the dogs tend to be in favor of programs that benefit them directly — handouts, if you will — which is just human nature. Or dog nature, I guess.

And I do know this about my dogs: they would never vote for Mitt Romney. Not after hearing the story of Romney strapping his dog to the roof of a car to make a 12 hour vacation trip, like Clark Griswold with an Irish Setter. Just Google Romney dog for the ugly details.

To my dogs this is a sort of a canine Chappaquiddick, absolute proof that Romney can not be trusted to serve.

Don’t get me started on the cats. They are all about receiving services while not contributing much to the household. Not to get into any tired old sterotypes, but they are clearly the entitlement class — and certainly Democrats.

On Football and Prayer

I don’t understand all the fuss over Tim Tebow because I pray all the time during football.

In fact, everyone in my house can hear me praying during NFL games, invoking the name of our Lord and Savior, especially when the NY Jets are playing.

“JESUS CHRIST!”

My wife will call out from the other room, “No swearing!”

I inform her that I am not taking the name of the Lord in vain, but in fact praying for strength. And what could be holier than screaming out the name of the Lord on the Sabbath? Then, another incompletion.

“JESUS CHRIST!”

“Stop that,” she will shout back.

What is with this infernal woman — does she not recognize my prayers?

I should mention here that I am not praying for God to alter the outcome of the game — no, I would never pray for victory, except maybe during the playoffs. Instead I am asking the Lord to help me survive a brutal ordeal. I pray for patience, resolve, fortitude. And maybe just a little for the Patriots to lose.

G’day Mate

Here’s former Australian Prime Minister Bob Hawke pounding a beer at a recent cricket match:

Hawke is something of a legend when it comes to drinking beer, and once held the world record for drinking a yard of ale — in eleven seconds.

This brings us to the Granite State of New Hampshire, where voters must ask themselves this question: do we want a leader who won’t drink even one beer, much less 2.5 pints of beer in eleven seconds?

Yes, that’s a terribly superficial and absurd way to judge Mitt Romney, whose Mormon beliefs forbid him from imbibing — but what about this campaign season has not been terribly superficial and absurd?

I rest my case.

Elvis Has Left the Building

I have the same phone number as Elvis.

It’s true, same number. I discovered this when the calls began, and they would usually go like this:

“Hello, Elvis?”

“Hi… may I speak with Elvis?”

“Is Elvis there?”

When these calls started coming in I thought I was being pranked and would get annoyed — but finally I asked somebody, “Hey — what number are you calling, anyway?” That’s when it became clear that Elvis and I shared a phone number, but with different area codes. This Elvis — not surprisingly — lives down South.

I should probably tell you that I love my cell phone number. It’s the sort of catchy and memorable combination that busineses crave. It’s really wasted on the likes of me.

So I called Elvis — it was apparently his work number and wanted to give him a heads up — but got his voice mail. I never heard back.

So, now when people call looking for Elvis, I politely tell them that they forgot the area code or dialed wrong. They always appreciate this. And I always close the call by saying, “Thank you very much.”

Foto Friday

Géill Slí, or give way. Not a bad way to approach the new year.

Is Beer a Clear Liquid?

When I saw that someone posted this as their Facebook status, I instantly understood:

Is beer a clear liquid?

You see, I had been wondering the same thing just hours before as I examined the prep instructions for my colonoscopy. The guidelines are very specific about consuming only clear liquids, but as you can imagine, the gastroenterologist isn’t going to include beer on the list. Broth, bouillon, juices? Yes. Beer? No.

But it doesn’t say don’t drink beer, does it?

My regimen started with four Dulcolax tablets to kick things off, and then proceeded to heavy doses of MiraLAX, popularly regarded as the Drano of the laxative community. Here’s how you know you’ve cleaned the pipes:

After your prep, the results should appear clear yellow or clear green liquid with no solid matter.

Oh, what fun. I suppose this is the price one must pay for living until 50. The indignities have commenced, and will hereby continue until death.

By the way, I asked for a videotape of my scoping to put on YouTube, but that was a no-go. It seemed like the perfect thing to watch while enjoying a clear liquid.

Holiday Hero 2011

Hats off to Andrew Caswell of Greece, NY! Last week the upstate man struck a deer with his car, and valiantly attempted to save the animal by packing it in his vehicle and taking it to the hospital — a people hospital.

Unfortunately, while en route, Mr. Caswell was stopped by police and arrested on charges of driving while intoxicated. According to a story in the Rochester Democrat and Chronicle:

Police Chief Todd Baxter said while he sympathizes with trying to save a deer during the holiday season, “driving while intoxicated will not be tolerated.”

The deer did not survive. Nobody’s perfect, but here’s to you Andrew Caswell, our Holiday Hero of 2011.