So, I gave my toilet a new brain last night. It had been growing quite stupid. So I ran out and bought one of those toilet brain replacement kits that can upgrade the braininess of your toilet. So, the transition went as followed:
Me: You there, remove that turd from my sight, it looks alarmingly like the profile of Michael Sweet from the band 'Stryper' and I do not wish to gaze upon it anymore.
Toilet: Derrr... Uhh... Pththth...derrr
(installs new brain)
Me: You there, remove this bowl of neon-colored piss from my house while I go back and eat four more boxes of 'Total' cereal.
Toilet: Yessir! I will expedite your command at once! (flushes merrily)
And that was pretty much the highlight of my night.
Went for a bike ride around the lake last night. I got there at a precise moment in time when the sun set and the sky was a certain color and it made the entire lake reflective. It was strang.. like a giant pool of quicksilver. I have never seen it that color before.
There was a lady on riverwalk walking these two big fat bulldogs. Bulldogs amuse me. I always want to see one smoke a cigar.
Came back home, watched the Japanese version of 'the ring 2'. It had its cheesy moments, however I lived it a lot. I can't say I liked it better than the American version.. but I enjoyed them as two separate entities.
Short post today. Too lazy to write.
2026 Update
Firing up the time-coffin for 2006, where Ed is giving his toilet a lobotomy and calling it a brain upgrade.
Ah, 2006. A simpler age, when a toilet's greatest sin was stupidity and the cure was a kit you could apparently buy at a store. Now my commode has more firmware than a fighter jet, updates itself at 3 a.m., and still asks me to rate my flushing experience. Back then, a man could eat four boxes of 'Total' cereal without a single wearable device judging his iron intake. Now the cereal box itself has a QR code that leads to a mindfulness app. You rode a bike around a lake and watched the sunset, Ed—no phone mount, no GPS, no livestream of your heart rate, no drone following you for content. And the Japanese Ring 2 came on a physical disc, a sacred artifact you had to insert into a machine, not a menu that silently suggests it because you once googled cursed videotapes. Bulldogs still look like they should smoke cigars, but now they're influencers. The world has changed, but toilet-based existential comedy remains eternal.
“2006 Ed, why did you interrupt your own toilet-brain installation to name-drop Michael Sweet from Stryper, and did the new toilet brain ever demand a cut of your cereal money as payment for its expedited flushing?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2006 Ed: Well, Beelzebubba, the Michael Sweet thing just sort of leaked out of my brain while I was staring at that turd. I mean, there it was, all poofy-haired and judgmental, and my first thought was, “Egads, that’s the Stryper guy.” I couldn’t very well un-see it, so I had to say something before the old toilet brain forgot what a rock star even was. As for the new brain demanding cereal money, no, thank goodness. It seems perfectly content with the occasional flush and a little praise. I did offer it a bowl of Total as a tip, but it just gurgled at me, which I’m choosing to interpret as a polite no. So I ate the cereal myself. Take that, foul porcelain.
