A Letter To An Important Person

I wrote this awhile ago in a fit of ridiculousness, there was a time when I thought that maybe this could be a submission to a very specific publication but, after careful consideration and a healthy dose of reality I realized that this was just too silly for anything other than this blog.

***

             I’d like to start off this letter with an admission. Everything I’m about to say is based on an assumption: You are an incredibly vain person but, not without admirable qualities that I aspire to have myself

I often wonder about the thoughts that went through your head. After years of popping squats, taking The Browns to the Super Bowl, dropping the kids off at the pool and so on, it occurred to you that there was something important missing from the experience; a blind spot you may say. Then it dawned on you: Evacuating your bowels and bladder is an empty practice without a clear view of your own genitals.

Now, I must make it clear that I never had the desire to see my own junk from that particularly angle but, I have to say, after seeing myself in the light of your legacy I can understand the appeal. We should be more intimate with our own bodies, it’s the only one we get right? We -should- know every wrinkled, gummy, inch of ourselves. How else could we be comfortable letting someone else view us, if they are so inclined.

Having been the recipient of your artistic vison so many times, I’m left with a few questions. Where you born too early? Was your talent wasted on the primitive technologies of shiny surfaces? What would have been your glorious trajectory had you been in say, 1990? I hope you don’t mind me doing a bit of speculative imagining here, but I can’t imagine you’d settle for anything left then a few water proof cameras and a direct link to some flat screens broadcasting in glorious 1080p.

I know you have doubters. I was wholeheartedly with them at one point. I hope you don’t feel any sense of shame because of them though. They are simply the products of a society that has yet to shed their puritan beliefs when it comes to taking a deuce. These values are deeply ingrained, constipated if you will, and will most likely still take a long time to release.

Perhaps one day, when the old institutions have passed we will feel freer about what you have given us. People will stand together and tell each other what they saw, much like they do in art galleries or museums. Maybe, just maybe, with the utilization of unisex bathrooms we’ll discuss our various lumps, masses, folds, and dangly bits with each other in the moment, crossing that solid and tall gender barrier.

I’ll never be able to shake your hand as I assume you are long dead. So I’m struggling with a way to show my appreciation. I could give every person I stand next to at the urinal a pat on the shoulder, or maybe crouch low and give a solid thumbs-up to whoever may find myself sitting next to in the stalls (I’m sure they’d understand what I’m doing). Until I think of a better way, I’ll simply give a healthy shimmy as I stare at myself.

Pooping.

 

Sincerely,

 

An Appreciative Soul

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