Don't Piss On The Trough

The secret of male community is the trough. You fellows remember the trough, right? You used to be able to walk into a public restroom and behold what was essentially an elongated bathtub with exposed plumbing that allowed 10-12 men to urinate at one time—a kind of roundtable meeting of the penis. The problem is that the trough has gone the way of the rotary phone and Crystal Pepsi. Why is that a problem? The trough promoted unification among those who used it. When two guys were nestled side-by-side, their dicks waggling a mere foot and a half apart, all barriers normally erected by inborn male brashness immediately crumbled. Hey, we all piss in the same drain.

I am suggesting we install a trough in every restroom that could accommodate a structure of such enormous girth, and vital consequence to male civilization. We should start with the facilities in the Capitol Building. You want to halt the pointless bickering that accompanies partisan politicians? The trough is the answer. Republicans? Democrats? Independents? Whigs? There are no political agendas or corporate affiliations where there is a conga line of flaccid talleywhackers drooping like fleshy windsocks on a windless day.

What’s more, the trough promotes shame, which is not a bad thing. On Capitol Hill, the trough would serve the same function as a pledge paddle in a college fraternity, breaking down the motley contingent of Congressmen so that they may be rebuilt into a stout single-minded troupe capable of progress. When wayward drops of someone else’s urine ricochet and splash unto the hairs on your wrist, everlasting bonds are forged.

Not well endowed? There are no secrets at the trough. What politician is going to pound the podium in defiance of extending the payroll tax cuts when he knows that everyone else knows that he has a tiny dick? With shame comes modesty. Of course, if he pounds the podium anyway, everyone will know that it is BECAUSE he has a tiny dick.

Of course, the benefit of troughs in Washington DC would be just the tip of the pissberg. Do you think that the Hatfield’s and the McCoy’s would have endured such a long-waging war if the two families had leaked in the same lake? Would there have been a cold war if Reagan and Gorbachev tinkled in the same tank? What if the ‘87 Lakers and Celtics had whizzed in the same watershed?

We men need to resurrect the trough. We need to allow ourselves a dose of humility when we realize that there is always someone bigger. We need to allow ourselves the therapeutic face-to-face interaction that is disallowed by modern urinals with metal barriers that restrict the splash zones, and human bodily interaction. We need to be reminded every time we unzip—we all piss in the same drain.