I stand before a toilet, of the standard Anglo-American sort, but with the seat removed. (This removal eliminates the trouble of cleaning the seat, Luigi the American once explained to me at a bar in Florence.) I would like to flush it... but how? There is nothing in the room obviously connected to the toilet in any way. Finally I espy, on the wall to the right of the toilet, at about eye level, a large, menacing looking button, connected to a tube running up into the ceiling. It appears as though pressing it might launch an air strike against the enemies of Berlusconi, or something of the sort. With trepidation, I push it. (I'm an incurable yellow-button pusher.) The toilet flushes! (Perhaps I have also blown up Nichi Vendola's house. I will check the papers tomorrow.)
What is wrong with having a little handle on the side of the toilet?
Take place in human diners, and show one omelette after another being cooked and devoured.
Declares LewRockwell.com : "All of this means that while the government has been artificially propping up the economy and 'stimu...
Is shaping up nicely .
The language won't die, but that doesn't mean the programmers won't ! Funny quote: '"Just because a language is 50...