Take the Plunger! A Public Service Announcement

One day man invented the toilet. We know it was a man who invented it because toilets are ugly, impossible to keep clean and require frequent maintenance. To compound the folly of the toilet, another man invented a suction device because his wife, tired of the toilet overflowing, suggested it. She even drew a picture of so he could understand how it would work. The man's name was Alpheus Plunge, and his (wife's) invention was called the plunger.

The plunger, as designed by Mrs. Alpheus Plunge

Cross-section drawing by Mrs. Plunge

The plunger was born, and for 127 years it was the go-to tool for suctioning the commode and disturbing congested commode contents until they would move on to the greater world of sewer pipes. The device worked well. It could be tapped on the side of the rim to remove debris, rinsed in the crystal waters of the bowl, and returned to it's sentry station alongside the toilet brush.

Many years later, another man thought he could improve the plunger, even though it worked fine. He thought to himself, "Even if I can't make a better plunger, I'll get rich, because people love to buy things they don't need." So he manufactured the OTHER plunger, which was and still is a poorly designed product. The internal rubber flap is a natural collector of debris and water, and cannot be emptied, even if you stand on your head. One night a relative of mine, disguised as a trick or treator, borrowed our real, authentic plunger, and never returned it. Eventually, I was forced to buy a badly designed one, as the neighbor had since moved to Florida with my plunger and his wife, in that order.

Dumb new design

Nasty water is trapped forever.

The new and improved plunger design could be marketed as a wine glass for recovering alcoholics. They would never get a drop of wine. While this is not funny, nor blog-worthy, it is a fact. So, for many years this inefficient plunger languished in our bathroom. I looked in vain for a plain old plunger, but only found expensive and even dumber ones. Imagine my glee when this last Sunday I found a pile of plain old plungers at a junk store for a mere $1.25 apiece.

A plunger gold mine.

I bought three, one for each of my neighbors and one for me. I advise you to avoid the OTHER plunger, for while it will plunge, it will not release its disgusting reward, but will stubbornly savor it in its hidden crevices.