How can we even SEE Alice when she’s armpit-deep in a separate bathtub?

I see London, I see France, but I can’t “see Alice” well enough to know if she’s wearing underpants.

Has a more mystifying image ever been served up to the American couch potato than that of two presumably naked bodies relaxing in adjacent but piping-free outdoor bathtubs?

When ads for Cialis first appeared, the centerpiece plumbing fixtures were poised high atop a secluded hill. I initially thought the couple ensconced inside had asked that the tubs be delivered to the precipice so they could follow a Tadalafil-fueled romp with a tub-sliding race down the other side.

But with each viewing (and it seems there are dozens of them in every nationally televised baseball game), I’ve become increasingly obsessed with the psychological back-stories of the cozy couple.

It’s a given that the man is afflicted with erectile dysfunction, but I’m certain he also harbors a Fitzcarraldo fixation. Instead of pulling a riverboat over a mountain to access rich rubber territory, however, my Fitz pulled clawfoot tubs to a summit in hopes of accessing rich territory requiring rubber of a more specific sort.

As for Alice, I’ve long suspected an obsession with Edith Ann, the mischievous five-and-a-half-year-old brainchild of comedienne Lily Tomlin. “I think it feels interesting,” Edith says, confiding that after a bath she enjoys sitting on the drain as all the water runs out.

What a thrill it was when the latest Cialis commercials were unveiled, proving my suspicion correct. By placing dual tubs on a romantic and faraway beach, the latest ads give us — and Alice — hope that a rogue wave might one day come along and finally put water in them. I also like to imagine that the beach is in the Southern hemisphere, giving Alice a "C(lit)oriolis" effect in the bargain.

Devising rational interpretations for nonsensical Madison Avenue concepts like this is enough to leave one limp. Perhaps pharmaceutical giant Eli Lilly will eventually shake the dew off itself and come up with a Cialis equivalent for the brain.

If that happens, I can’t wait to see how they’ll advertise it.

*Important information about this blog:

Do not read these observations if you are allergic to cynicism. Reading these observations while intoxicated on the cheap beer often advertised in commercials before and after those for Cialis can cause a serious increase in abdominal pressure, leading to possible shart attack. Contact your doctor or seek emergency medical attention if you become dizzy or offended while reading, or if a smile lasts longer than four hours.

Starting at the bottom — or even lower

What better way to kick off a new blog than by starting at the bottom? Actually, I’m aiming even lower, toward that which the bottom often sits atop. Yes, this observation with no telescope is about toilet seats.

If you’re lucky, you’ve always been privy to them. If you’re obsessed, you’ve probably been to San Antonio, Texas, to visit the art museum devoted to them.

Pull up a seat and tell me about your favorites. Send a photo of yourself wearing one like a horse collar — I’m always looking for artwork. I might even put you inside a potty-seat frame like this one!

The US Department of Defense was once lambasted for spending $640 apiece on toilet seats. And that wasn’t even for the newfangled heated Japanese models with hydraulic seats, remote controls, automatic deodorizers, warm-air dryers and — best of all — built-in bidets. Even Sarah Palin would have to call those a “wash.”

Today’s observation, however cheap, deals only with the white plastic seats that grace the two toilets in the men’s room outside my employer’s suite of offices.

Because Atlanta traffic is so unpredictable, you know that if you leave work at the end of the day without paying a visit to the local urinoir, urintrouble.

What’s interesting about my own evening pit stops, however, is that on unoccupied afternoons, both stall doors invariably stand wide open, revealing the toilet seat on the left to be up and the toilet seat on the right to be down. And they have been left that way every day for years.

Do the same creatures of habit precede me to the men’s room each day and use the same stalls for the same purposes every time?

If I reverse the seat positions from up-and-down to down-and-up, will I open a wormhole from Atlanta to San Antonio? Worse, would I inadvertently cause a butterfly effect wherein Sarah Palin could be elected president of something more than the board of directors of Barney Smith's Toilet Seat Art Museum?

I believe I’ll feel safer if I just leave each seat as(s) is.