VIGGO HANSEN AND HIS MICTURATION THING

Sometimes the news is eye-brow raising. At other times, news sources are a toilet. What is one to make of a proposal that men should be forbidden to pee while standing?
At a county council meeting in Sörmland on April 29, Vänsterpartiet representative Viggo Hansen proposed outlawing non-seated urination, in order to eliminate the inherent sexism associated with that process, as well as yield cleaner seats. Apparently it's also better for your prostate, and leads to a longer and healthier sex life.

Peeing while standing is a meanspirited male-chauvenist act.
In Sweden, where they worry about such things.


It's so VERY nice that a Swedish politician worries about my prostate and my sex life. Perhaps I should send Viggo Hansen a note informing him that he needn't bother? There is no sex life. I honestly wouldn't mind a sex life, it sounds like a lovely thing from all accounts, as well as buckets of fun, but the problem is that in SF such a thing usually involves other people.
Normally and elsewhere that isn't an issue, but here it is.
I'm rather picky, you see. Despite my frequently rather sexist approach to voiding my bladder. As far as I'm concerned, neither my bladder nor acts committed behind the bathroom door are involved in sex. At the very least, taking a leak is NOT a sexual act. Except in Sweden and San Francisco.

Sex, normally, is a healthy and charming way to pass the time with a person who has a sense of humour, as well as the idiosyncratic taste to wish to see one in the nude. Well, mostly nude. But in Viggo Hansen's life, and one has to assume that of many other Swedes, as well as huge numbers of folks in San Francisco, it also involves a toilet seat.
And that, you see, is where I must furiously draw the line.
It strikes me as mildly perverse.
Not my thing.

If Viggo Hansen, instead of being a tall bearded Viking with cow-horns growing out of his ridged cranium, was a petite young lady with sparkling eyes (and the aforementioned sense of humour), I might sit up and take notice. And if she had a lovely belly button (an "inny") and golden skin, and the toilet seat were instead a large pillow or a sofa with a comfy throw-rug, it would definitely put an interested smile on my face. I could very well see the point of preserving as much 'cleanth' and prostate health as possible, and would also advocate the presence of a towel and an ashtray.
As well as a copious supply of hot tea or cool lemonade, because the importance of proper hydration cannot be stressed enough.

But I will not permit a Swede in my toilet.
That's just nasty.



Kindly piss off, mr. Viggo Hansen, and let me whiz whichever way I wish. Possibly I am contemplative while doing so, maybe gay and haphazard.
I might even be singing a cheerful song at the time. Perhaps, like little boys are wont to do, I am seeing how much noise I can make while behind my closed door. I stress that the door is closed; it must be so.

In any case, I am not thinking about my prostate or a healthier sex life while thus engaged. Neither is any one else.
It's entirely my own affair.
Stupid Swede.



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