You knew it was just a matter of time before this bloggiana went right into the toilet. I just hope, after you've perused this puffery, you won't think I have a potty mouth. Yes, this is all about bathrooms. But, don't blame me. Blame the Chinese. See, they have opened what they are calling the biggest public restroom in the world. There are more than 1000 places to...uh...go. It is four-stories tall. Frankly, if I ever have reason to use it, I'm headed for the top floor. Why take a chance? I remember some old joke about a two-story outhouse. No way, I'm staying beneath three other floors of activity. Now, if this has bowled you over, I will plunge ahead. Many of you already know about the luxurious restrooms at the Shoji Tabuchi Theatre in Branson. For all the times my family and I have visited Branson, we've never been inside that particular venue. But, I've heard there are lots of wonderful accouterments inside the tiled wonderland. One report says there is a pool table in the men's room. Unless the felt is painted ocean blue and there's the sound of waves bumping up against the eight ball, it really isn't going to do much to facilitate the function.

A friend of mine, back in school, always had to go to the restroom. If we went to a movie, he had to go several times. If we went to the mall, he'd have to go each time we passed one of those restroom that-a-way signs. By the way, the name of the shopping center was West Towne Mall. It seems if you are going for cute, quaint or classy, all you need to do is add the letter "e." It would not have been the same experience to shop the shops at West Town Mall, as it was to shop the shoppes at West Towne Mall. From now on, I will spell my name Joele Nicholse and see if it helps my standing. Anyway, my friend knew where all the best toilets were. He developed ESP...Extra Sensitive to Porcelain. Eventually, he could walk down a street and just know where the cleanest, most conducive facilities could be found. He was convinced that if he tried to hold it, he would develop some disease. I had been raised to believe that holding it was the right and proper thing to do. If you gave in to the urge it was a sign of weakness and moral decay. I seem to remember one of my Sunday School teachers telling me that Martin Luther actually had a 96th thesis decrying the overuse of public restrooms but he had to make a pit-stop and forgot to post it. This same teacher told our class of an entire group of stoic Lutherans who vowed to never give in to the call of nature. Apparently they made it to their early 30s and exploded. More rupture than rapture.

My personal talent for avoiding public restrooms has less to do with religious fervor or fraudulent health worries than with the fact that, as a child, I grew up in a family of six with one very tiny bathroom. Also, our father seemed to be able to drive forever without ever needing to make a tinkle break. He would guzzle coffee and smoke Kents all the way from Wisconsin to Connecticut and never admit to having to use the men's room. Maybe he had hollow legs. His feeling was that if he could do it...or NOT do it...then we could do it...or NOT. My brothers would yell from the back "My eyes are turning yellow!" or "My back teeth are floating!" and he'd just drive on. I remember one time, when our dad ran out of cigarettes, we all ran for the restrooms. My oldest brother was actually in tears as he reached the sacred portal. When our dad saw this weeping he asked "What's your problem?" to which my brother replied "It's my potty and I'll cry if I want to...cry if I want to...cry if I want to." Boy, that's a long trip just to reach an old joke.

Well, congratulations to the Chinese for their trophy toilet. Somewhere the Tidy Bowl Man is looking for a yacht. If you gotta go, you may as well go in style. That's the bottom-line.

Now, if all this talk has made you have to visit your own linoleum lounge, I'm sorry. You really should have taken care of that before we left.