Up the escalator I went. This is a massive gleaming escalator - it takes you up two stories, just to give you an idea. You are encased in a long gleaming white-tile tube - and plastered on the walls are pictures of furry brown bears - and also repetitive (like cult-brainwashing repetitive) advertisements for Charmin, the company that obviously foot the bill for this G-rated poop magnet in Times Square. (Maybe parents with little kids think pooping is cute, and maybe they feel the need to make going to the bathroom akin to a trip to Disneyworld ... but I'm an adult and I was strictly creeped out by the potty-training YAY FOR YOUR BODILY FUNCTIONS ambience of this entire place.)
I vote we make "YAY FOR YOUR BODILY FUNCTIONS" the official December salutation in these United States, instead of "Happy Holidays" or "Season's Greetings" or whatever. That oughtta take the wind out of Bill O'Reilly's sails, huh? Every time he starts up with his War on Christmas babbling, people can just shout at him, "Bill! YAY FOR YOUR BODILY FUNCTIONS!"
I'm serious. If we need to get a Constitutional amendment to do this, let's do this. This would do wonders for my December and yours too, probably.
4 comments:
I sumbit our first holiday tradition.
Blows Festivus right out the water.
Gaaaahhhh, Times Square. 50% more terrifying than in the days of grunge and pay pr0n theatres. I literally had a nightmare about one of the hotels in there.
//Gaaaahhhh, Times Square. 50% more terrifying than in the days of grunge and pay pr0n theatres. //
God, that is just so true.
I miss the grime and the hookers and the peep shows. That, to me, feels HONEST. But the Disneyland vibe is truly disturbing to me.
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