People have recently accused me of being a conspiracy nut, primarily because I haven’t completely accepted the provided documentation of citizenship by our President. Why can’t we see the original birth certificate? What about his college transcripts and some of his thesis? I’m not even convinced that he wrote his books. I’m an author, and I’ve never had to use a teleprompter. I am capable of writing and speaking my own independent thoughts from my heart. Of course, I’m not so naïve to not know that all Presidents have used speech writers and some are better at delivering other people’s thoughts than others.
I remember a couple years ago, I took my family out to one of those fancy restaurants in the city. You know the kind, they had real silverware wrapped in a hanky big enough to use as a bib. No mason jars for glasses tonight for us. I wasn’t even sure what some of the dishes were on the menu. I saw one waiter delivering a steak to a man and his steak was still on fire. I asked my waiter what it was, it had some French name. Looked like a steak to me. Anyway, after stumbling through the menu and ordering something with an American name I had to , you know, go. Bad. So off I go to the thinkin’ room.
This country boy had never seen such a fancy bathroom. They had an attendant hand you a towel and if you wanted one a newspaper or magazine of your choice. I don’t read much of the mainstream scoop so I passed, found an empty seat and sat down to take care of business. They had music playing, so it was kinda hard to sit there and pontificate on the current events of this world. You know all those conspiracy theories about the New World Order, the Bilderberg Group and the Federal Reserve.
Then I started to get up a little, reaching forward to get some toilet paper. (Some liberal elites would call it "tissue") Now this is the part that startled me. As I lifted up just a tad, I heard the toilet behind me flush. I looked down to see if I had accidentally pushed the lever. But, there was no lever! I looked all round and couldn’t find a flusher. As I was moving around, it flushed again. Every time I started to get up, it flushed.
Well, I’m no dummy, I’ve been to the big city. I realized that there must be a hidden window somewhere, or one of those two-way mirrors like the government always uses. What really gets me is this: Who would be so desperate for a job, that they would be willing to sit all day in some closet with some sort of push button remote control, flushing commodes? I then realized that there are a lot of immigrants around here, probably most of them illegal. Now, I don’t go along with the crowd that complains that the illegals are stealing all of our jobs, at least not this one. I mean, what real American would be willing to sit in a bathroom all day just to flush a commode?
Let them do it. They’re willing to get dirty and do the jobs that we real Americans won’t stoop to.
Another thing I wonder about: Do they only hire men to flush the men’s commodes and visa versa? That seems like a big waste of money. How do they make sure that the homos and perverts don’t sneak in? They’d like it. Besides, what is it about the people of America? Are they getting so uppity (I’d say lazy) that they can’t even flush their own commodes?
Anyway, I have had trouble thinking in public restrooms ever since that night. The poor attendant could probably tell I was shaken. He asked me if I needed to splash water on my face or even better, my choice of men’s fragrances lined up on the sink. I said no thank you; I just shook his extended hand and went back to my fancy meal.
My wife was upset when the bill came, she is pretty frugal you know. I explained to her later why it was so high, that this restaurant hired extra staff to attend to the restrooms. She was disappointed that she didn’t get the opportunity to check out the powder room. I’ll bet it was a sight to see. Of course, women don’t spend as much of their time thinking. They always take a friend to talk to.
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