Let's Find Some New Stuff to Draw on Bathroom Stalls

Like maybe a pair of buttocks

By R. Vecci

Times are changing, and the nineties are long behind us. Gigantic pants, sony walkmen, and sweater vests are all wonderful and iconic items but they belong, like your penis drawings, in your attic or basement storage areas. Oh I'm sure the scrawling of a gigantic phallic emblem took place more than once in the eighties, but it was the nineties that saw this trend rise to the forefront of American bathroom artistry. Across the nation, in public male restrooms everywhere, we were reminded constantly that weiners do exist and they come with a set of testicles. This image became embedded permanently into our minds, along with incorrectly drawn swastikas and telephone listings offering incredibly easy homosexual intercourse. It reached its peak roughly in 1998, when it was still somewhat hilarious, but lost its humor almost overnight, somewhere around the summer of 2001.



We're nearing the end of this decade, and drifting into a post-postmodern American aesthetic, signaled by the rise of technology and user-enabled information sharing. It's only fitting that our bathroom graffiti follow suit, reinventing itself carefully and symbolically. I know the penis is easy to draw and can be done with one line, without even lifting your sharpe off the wall, but it's a tired and exhausted graphic, beyond cliche and without any impact or former shock value. Therefore, it's necessary we draw some new things, like perhaps a pair of buttocks or maybe a human tongue (not as private or taboo but I'm just throwing things out there to start). Let's get creative, people. This is the future for god's sake.

A Bigger Danger

by R. Vecci

My co-worker is weird and possibly a shapeshifting lizard from the moon.

But I like his Albert Einstein poster.

by R. Vecci

I'm not sure if any of you have heard the zany, conspiracy laden truth-paste of David Icke. The middle part of this decade saw a slew of paranoia-ridden, conspiracy-implicating books that were vomited out of the aching gut of our post-911 collective psyche. This eccentric fellow from across the pond stood out from the pack, however, with some of the most far-out sludge you could ever tickle your mind silly with. While the chap's got some interesting things to say, his theories are typically discredited once he tries to convince his intended audience that many powerful people are secretly alien reptiles, including the British royal family. Why is this such an insanely moronic theory you ask? Well, why rich and powerful people? Why the royal family? Why not my co-worker, Jim?

Jim's office is right across from my desk, which makes for akward encounters at various moments throughout the day. He's got all the qualifications to be a space salamander. For one, he strolls in twenty minutes late almost every day, breathing heavily with a strange look of displacement on his face. Is he eating babies moments before? He wears his winter coat all day long at his desk because he says the air duct blows continuous cold air on him, but I think it's because he could secretly be a cold-blooded reptile. He puts his hood up and gurgles when he makes eye contact with me. His girlfriend calls a lot and I can hear them argue, which then results in him making strange hissing and popping noises. Is this some strange Martian dragon mating ritual?

Strange guy. But I still think he's pretty cool, and I like his office decor. Still, I don't think I would care that much if someone spit on his birthday cake.