You beach-billies are something else and with all of your new-found knowledge I can only imagine what’s next, fecal races maybe? Whose swims faster in the new tube? Call it, “NastyCar” as they like that sort of thing in the South, or, how about “Indy-gestion” races?

We (Juli and I) live on an island here in Southern California so every little black banana that we harvest in the morning has to be pumped to a treatment plant.

It’s kinda magical if you think about it, it’s also a marvel of Roman era technology. Take the word plumbing. The word “plumb” enjoys its etymology from the latin term for lead or lead piping (take a look at the Periodic Table, lead is Pb).

Turns out the Romans were keen on driving their butt snakes out of town by way of lead causeways. The plumber of yore (whose cheeks probably shown through his or her toga) was a civil engineer of sorts whose job it was to prevent all of the associated diseases (unknown in the medical sense back then but think Cholera, dysentery, etc.) that afflicted communities every once and while. This person was a paid servant of the state and enjoyed stature and decent pay, you could almost say they were “flush”.

Even the Space Shuttle has it’s own “spin” on a stylized latrine, there unit sports a fan that draws our little still-borns right into a tank not unlike R&Js (spin, get it, spin?). With no gravity you’ve got to draw that murky mass into its first but not last holding cell.

All the best,
Eric