You're In The Know (SWIDT?)

I don't have the intellectual wherewithal to tackle the big weighty subjects of our time. 

I leave that to Professors Tannenbaum, Hoffman and blogging newcomer Jeff Eaker (check out his exquisitely written Kingdom of Failure). On the inconsequential and minuscule and sometimes offensive aspects of life however, I consider myself uniquely able.

In these days of raging wokefulness and hypersensitivity, you'd be lucky to get ten words on the page without offending someone. With that said, if discussion of certain bodily excretion functions causes you to reflexively reach out for the thought police in HR, may I suggest you close this tab and check out the throw pillows on Wayfair.com.

Last week, while trolling the interwebs and ruthlessly mocking Trumpsters, who had a miserable week that included subpoenas, a failed Arizona Fraudit and the release of Bob Woodward's new damning book, Peril, I came across a most interesting article about pee pee. And its indicative abilities to gauge one's health.

According to top Pee Pee doctors, the average man or woman should empty his/her/their bladder for a full 21 seconds. Not 20. Or 25. Twenty One!

This, according to those who have made it their lifetime work to know the bladder and all its associated tubes, lobes and blood vessels, is the ideal time for a full and complete emptying of the tank, as it were.

As someone whose family medical history includes many enlarged prostates, dating back to shtetl days, I found this particularly interesting. Especially, since at the age of 44, I now find myself repeatedly staring at a toilet bowl that mercilessly taunts me.

"Go ahead... what are you waiting for...let's have it...ok, go back to bed, I know you'll be here again in half an hour...loser."

The inconsistent stream is the bane of my existence. But it has met its match --Me.

The article detailing the perfect pee pee time didn't suggest this, but given my competitive nature and my fascination with numbers, I decided that on my next trip to the can, I would put myself up to the 21 second challenge.

And guess what? Right as rain, I stood before that contemptuous toilet bowl and let him have it for a good 21 seconds. 

I was strong. 

I was in command. 

I was fully relieved. 

It was, dare I say, a golden moment.

That was last week. And though my wife has tired of me exiting the bathroom with the count: "21 seconds", "19 seconds" "23 seconds", I continue to tick off the seconds in my head. Because it works. Like magic it brings on the waterworks, as reliable and as spectacular as the fountains of the Bellagio.

Here's the other thing. 

Because I know how the bladder works. And because I consider myself a well-versed student of human behavior (which has no currency in today's ad world, but that's another blog), I suspect that after reading this post, you will do the same thing I did -- you'll do the count the next time nature calls.

Good luck and please let me know how it flows.