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This is an excerpt from a scroll which was uncovered in a recent find near the Dead Sea, which actually has life in it, particularly during the weekends.  The date on the scroll is 100 B.C., but some scholars believe the writer, “Bartholomew” left out a zero and it was actually written 1000 B.C. The scroll is attributed to a small desert community which was lived in a cave near modern day Damascus, and which followed a charismatic, messianic figure named Jebodiah, whom they referred to as “the Master”, or occasionally as “Jebbie”.

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And it came to pass on that day that Bartholomew was preparing to urinate in the garden.  And the Master said unto him, “Halt your flow,  Bartholomew!”

And Bartholomew said “Master, it is already so.  For my urine sack is shy with you near”.

And the Master looked with compassion upon his disciple and said, “Your great faith can heal you of this affliction.  Let me put my hand under your thigh.”

 “No Master.  Very, very, very truly I say that is really, really not of need.  But why must my flow be withheld? Would my urine disgrace this garden?”

“Truly I say unto you, do not urinate upon the young sprouts, for they have not yet the roots to weather its strength.  And do not urinate upon the mighty oak, for then your urine’s might will be for naught.  And do not urinate upon the wheat, for that is really disgusting.  And do not urinate upon any fruit nor vegetable, (except for lima beans which are already an abomination), nor upon any grain, nor upon any soil which may give them rise. And do not urinate upon any animal that is to be slaughtered for eating or for use of its hide, or that might snuggle upon you in your bed.

And do not spill your urine into yonder river, lest your waste become your neighbor’s drink. Nor shall you spill it upon your bed, nor upon your neighbor’s wife. If a final droplet or two doth spilleth upon thy garment, do not be forlorn.  For a few droplets upon your loincloth here and there is acceptable, but more than that can create unsightly staining and unpleasant musks which may require pre-soaking.” Read the rest of this entry »

This section will, over time, have a variety of origomy designs which can be created with toilet paper.  Here are two to get you started.

Design One:   The Thick Rectangle of Oneness:   

Step1: Carefully tear off one sqare of toilet paper.

Step 2: Fold it in half.

Step 3: Then fold it in half again.

Step 4: Now fold it in half yet again.

Step 5: And yet again, fold it in half. 

Step 6 (optional but recommended) Now very carefully fold it in half a final time.

When finished, you should have a perfect, very small rectangle. This may be used for hygienic purposes or decorated, lamenated and framed.

Design Two: the Phoenix. 

Step 1: Begin with either 8 or 317 squares of toilet paper, depending on time and the desired completion size. The softer kind of TP is preferable, ideally two-ply, with little flower designs imprinted into the roll.
Step 2: carefully and methodically fold the squares so that they resemble a large bird with  a sizable neck and redish feathers, which, if burned, would come back to life out of the ashes.

Please feel free to send in your own TP Origamy designs. (Original, orthopedic, non-ornithological Ergonomic Origamy is preferred).

The Royal Flush
(For Duane)
By Henry Waldo Liverworth

That day is etched upon my brain
The death of my beloved Duane.
I found him there, simply floating
So sad to see him stiff and bloating
I pressed against him with my ear
But there was no heartbeat I could hear

My heart was broken, tears were shed
They landed on his little head
I put around him a little blankie
Kissed him goodbye (then blew my hankie)
We lit some candles, and gathered round
I held him up, then flushed him down
So much sorrow, so much pain
To watch his life go down the drain
It hit me then, and does each day
That we’ll all go much the same way
Through a long dark tunnel
into the Endless Sea
That’s what will come
Of you and me

We’re not to fear, we’re not to dread
But if you were born, you will be dead
So live each day full
For each of us
Soon or late
Will get the Royal Flush

These two poems are by one of the most beloved transcendentalist couples of the mid-19th century.
The Broken Vow
By William Emerson Wadsword:

We swore together we would stay
For forever and a day
Our bond so strong, nothing could break it
I never thought she would forsake it

Until the cursed walk I took
that fateful night when she forsook
The deepest vow we ever made
To replace the roll when it did fade

So cautiously, with pants down low
Into the kitchen I did go
Too late I realized, also there,
Was her women’s meeting, deep in prayer
The very moment I came in
Was when I heard her say “Amen”

Never had so many eyes
Stared so square between my thighs
I quickly moved my hands to hide it
But not before they’d time to size it

“Please don’t let me interfere
I just have need to clean my rear
What misfortune, for I fear
There’s nothing I can use in here
Might there be a volunteer
To spare their scarf without a tear?”

To my cause they weren’t too loyal
Though one did throw a wad of foil
I turned to go then turned back quickly
For fear my rear would make them sickly
Backwards I shuffled to the door
Then stopped to proclaim one thing more

“I’m certain I don’t need to mention
but I’d like to call to your attention
Though surely you did all surmise
That cold and stress can hide one’s size

I beg you kindly to remember
A fire starts with just an ember
This cold, cold day in dark December
Would have belittled any member”

Relieved to voice my clear disclaimer
(For if one misjudged me, who could blame her)
I retired to the toilet chamber
To take care of the remainder

My soul’s not one to much complain
But that foil of tin did bring me pain
That vow she broke, how it did stain us
Such a wrath she wrought upon my anus
But much worse still, or I’d have lied
Was the wrath she wrought upon my pride

As for us, of course we’re finished
And my life now so diminished
The endless rumors, the muffled laughter
The whispered glances ever after

The whims of fate, they are so cruel
For when she broke our Greatest Rule
I was left forever a broken fool
By a simple quest to wipe my stool
 
Husbands Take Heed
By Mary Elizabeth Wadsword
Only a wife could understand it
How I could have ever planned it
For they’ve sat down in the dark of night
And found the toilet seat upright
After near five hundred times
The mind gets thoughts of passion crimes