The Reg

MILTON: Ah, my friends, we have arrived at the Reg, which is near and dear to my forlorn heart.

EUGENE: Indeed.

MICHAEL: Let us commence our search on the A-Level of this pristine building. When studying an object, one must begin at the base in order to gain a full understanding of the full thing, that is to say, of the thing itself.

MILTON: But Michael, I do not understand. Why must we begin on the A-Level?

MICHAEL: The A-Level, my dear Milton, being the bottom of the thing, must therefore be also the most essential to the thing itself. That is to say, if not for the existence of the A-Level, the entire building would not exist.

MILTON: But Michael, what about the B-Level?

MICHAEL: The A-Level has Ex Libris, dumbass. It is clearly superior in all matters: aesthetic, culinary, and bathroomy.

MILTON: Ah, it must be so. It is all clear now.

EUGENE: Now that we are all in accord as to the importance of the A-Level, we can begin our examination.

A-Level of the Reg

MICHAEL: I see that this restroom lacks two important amenities: French-style bidets and truth.

EUGENE: Let us not focus on what this restroom lacks, my friends. In order to fully understand the essence of the bathroom - what makes this bathroom this bathroom - we must first describe what this bathroom is.

MICHAEL: There are two slightly askew metallic coat hangers on the wall. I find that they are useful for hanging my coat. My coat is brown and fuzzy.

MILTON: I personally have taken note of the lack of graffiti on the walls. I oftentimes find myself reading humorous sayings on the wall, many of which assail the silly little Economic policies that I believe in. It is quite amusing to read how wrong everyone else is.

MICHAEL: One time I had a yellow coat, but then I dropped it.

EUGENE: Ah, I see that some clever young scholar has deduced a way to break open the toilet paper dispensers in both stalls. I am proud to see such enterprising and clever spirit among my younger compatriots.

MILTON: Also, the extra-wide handicapped stall is quite useful. My head is too fat to fit into the other stall, sadly.

MICHAEL: Fortunately, the full-size mirror on the left wall does a good job of accurately capturing my youthful beauty. I have oftentimes gone to this bathroom with the sole purpose of staring at myself and my brown coat.

EUGENE: My friends, it is now time for us to make our way upstairs so that we may examine the men's room on the first floor.

MILTON: Walking up stairs is such tedious work for a man of my intelligence.

The philosophers' rating: Sixth Form of the Good

First Floor of the Reg

MICHAEL: Ah, these ovaloid mirrors are especially elegant; I feel like they are suited for reflecting my poignant face.

MILTON: Do you mean pointy?

MICHAEL: No, definitely poignant. The poignancy of my face is, in fact, that which is the underlying cause of the face itself. Much as the flute player plays the flute, my face is poignant.

EUGENE: Ah, my friends! There is a treasure in the first urinal! I have discovered an empty Diet Coke bottle. Does anybody have a pack of Mentos?

MILTON: I have discovered another youthful artifact in one of the stalls: a copy of the latest issue of The Onion. The younger generations treat their news in such a crass manner, I'm afraid.

MICHAEL: But Milton, I do not understand.

MILTON: Shut up, Michael. Go and play with your fuzzy coat.

MICHAEL: Ah, indeed, I see. It must be so.

EUGENE: The expansiveness of this restroom reminds me of the KJR-382P Solar Belt. Both of them are very big.

MILTON: I also sense a faint smell in the air. I am reminded of mint juleps and oak trees.

MICHAEL: Really? I think it smells like poop.

The philosophers' rating: Seventh Form of the Good

Miles
Simha