Recognize this? I suspect you do. It is, of course, a plunger – sometimes known as a “plumber’s helper.”
When I was a kid, we had one just like it, but it was not often seen. In fact, it was kept in the basement, as it was so infrequently needed – and when needed it was almost always the result some foreign matter having found its way into the toilet. That was back in the days when we had toilet tanks that held enough water to actually flush away the typical volume of shit solid waste. Those were also the days when the federal government was not terribly interested in dictating the size of every farookin’ toilet tank in the United States.

Now, the federal government’s tentacles have reached into everyone’s bathroom to mandate the amount of water per flush. Ostensibly, the Toidy Police took this intrusive measure to save water and therefore the goddamned planet. I must admit that I have been unable to find the provision in the Constitution that makes my toilet bowl the business of the United States Government.

Their lack of constitutional authority notwithstanding, the regulations are not saving water and are downright shitty – pun intended. What the regulations have accomplished is the regular need to use Mr. Plunger to flush away the waste that defies the federally-mandated shot glass sized flush. As such, the once basement-hidden plunger now occupies a prominent spot next to Mr. Commode. The plunger’s new visibility has been a boon to the plunger industry (Plunger industry? Who knew?), in that everyone now needs a plunger that is dolled up or camouflaged so as not to look like a plunger.

Of course, it is possible that my need for multiple flushes and regular plunger plungage is unique, and the real problem is that I am simply full of shit.