A Tidy Bowl Man applicant during the difficult "Lost at sea in a leaky vessal" stage of the vetting process.
MisterTrue thinks to himself...
Who wouldn't labor happily for years in the porcelain fields of America's unknown, and unsanitary discussion forum bathrooms? Sustained only by the dream of someday being the Tidy Bowl Man?
To be the captain of your own vessel. If not your own fate.
Like Captain Kirk, circleing below Ur-anus, or someone elses, searching for; "Cling-ons" that must be dealt with.
To scour the very edges of some urinary universe!
From the yellow stained rim-worlds, at the top of the porcelain portal, right on down into the depths of the Black-Hole/Worm-Hole.
Where all matter within this ceramic water-world eventually does a slow motion, downward spiraling, death dance, before it is eventually sucked into...
Mystery of mysteries...
Where does it go from there?
Some realms are best left un-explored.
But everything above that mysterious fecal/focal point of egress, right on up to the open skies, and full moons of what lies beyond the top of this ceramic cosmos, make up the realm that Tidy Bowl Man is King of.
And yes I know know that into every life a little (or a lot) of rain must fall.
But Tidy Bowl Man is smiling, if not "singing in the rain" because his yellow, water-proof slicker, and "Northeaster" hooded cap protects him from the elements!
Only the Gorton Fisherman is afforded the same level of bright yellow protection while navigating the reaches of his stormy watered sea.
I can almost hear Robert Goulette singing;
"For one brief shining moment..."
(How did he hit those high notes, night after night?)
Yes, to actually dream of being the Tidy Bowl Man is an; "Unreachable Star."
But I will continue to row my happy ass in that direction, until they pry my cold dead hands off of the oars of that there dream my friends.
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