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Friday, September 12, 2014

Fringeville #120, September 12 2014

Pilot to Bombardier...Fire at Will!


Due to basic anatomy, guys learn as kids that there are some things they can do that the girls just can't. One of the first things we learn is that males can gain remarkable control of their urinary streams. This seems to be a skill reserved for humans. Dogs, for instance, just raise their legs and fire.

Not so, males of the human species. Early on, we get coached on how to make sure we're not missing our target: the toilet bowl. The coaching goes (with variation) something like this:

Dad: C'mon son. Time to pee.
Son: Oh, boy! Cheerios!
Dad: We're not eating these.
Plop!
Dad: Aim at the hole.
Son: Cheerios in the toilet!
Dad: Yes. Aim. Sink one.
Son: Really???
Dad: Mom doesn't want to mop the floor every time you have to pee.
Son: Are we still gonna eat it?
Dad: No! Just sink the damned thing.
Mom: (from the other side of the door): What the hell is going on? Do I need the mop again?
Dad:  We're playing sink the Bismark. Aim son!
Son: I missed!
Dad: Yeah, you did. Next time, I'm not wearing sandals. Try again!
Son: I did it! I did it!
Dad: Great job. Go tell Mom. She's in the kitchen.
Dad washes feet. Mom enters the room.
Mom: What did you do in here?
Dad: You didn't want him peeing on the floor. I had him sink some Cheerios.
Mom: That explains it.
Dad: Explains what?
Mom: He just tried to pee in a box of Krispy Kremes.

After fits and starts, guys get pretty good at fire control. By elementary school, they can write their names in the snow. The skill remains pretty much intact until they hit college age and discover fraternities and/or alcohol, when the skill degrades temporarily.

And then there's prostate cancer, which plays all kinds of havoc on the male urinary system. If you get that bad boy removed, you find yourself relearning all the basic skills, including dancing the Watusi when you have to absolutely go the bathroom this very second.

But one day, if you are patient and the gods of healing are friendly to you, it all comes back. Cheerio Mojo. But I will not, under any circumstances, relive grade school and write my name.

And your Krispy Kremes are safe.

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