Advanced technology, my butt!

Impulsive? Certainly. Gratuitous? Undoubtedly. Silly? Perhaps. But I have finally fulfilled one of my life-(in Japan)-long dreams. (And grammatically speaking, how _does_ one correctly insert a parenthetical note mid-(if this is even a word)-hyphenation?)

This was several years in coming, but something just told me the time was right to "ride the wave", so to speak, and join the Japanese in enjoying that pinnacle of technological achievements, the "Washlet".

Perhaps best likened to a creative fusion between a traditional toilet seat, R2-D2, and a supersoaker, most of my readers will have at least passing knowledge of this brilliant innovation from the nation who first pioneered the use of splintery wooden sticks as toilet paper many years ago.

The model I bought was at the "bottom end" of the price spectrum, and lacks so many of the sophisticated features that are advertised in the glossy brochures, such as the following:

- wall-mounted motion detection system
- self-opening toilet seat lid
- artificial "flushing" sound to cover biological noises
- built-in bathroom heater
- ejector seat mechanism

And yet, I find myself utterly unable to find any dissatisfaction with the basic functionality this device provides. Once I had worked my way through the sixteen pages of detailed installation instructions in Japanese, that is...



The experience

The excitement begins as you sit down on the (pre-heated) seat, and you feel and hear the main engines firing up, like a jet warming up on the tarmac. An internal ventilation system begins sucking in and filtering the air inside the bowl to remove any unwanted odors. Meanwhile, heating coils prime the water in a holding tank, heating it exactly to the temperature set via the built-in side-mounted control panel.

When your business is finished, you can reach up to grab the removable wall-mounted remote control panel and push the button with the international symbol for "butt" on it. A hidden panel deep within the machine slides back, and unseen, a long stainless steel cylinder extends from under the rim of the toilet seat beneath you, not unlike Luke's lightsaber emerging from Artoo's secret panel as Luke prepares to walk the plank on Jabba the Hutt's skiff.

Once fully extended, a jet of water leaps forth from the lightsaber. However, this is no random spray - it is a high-performance, precision-controlled stream. Not as clumsy or as random as a blaster, this is an elegant weapon for a more civilized time. The control panel sports a variety of buttons enabling you to delicately adjust the position and strength of the stream, set it to oscillate, fire it in pulses, or put it into overdrive. With a little practice, you can find just the combination of settings to blast the Sarlacc out of your, um, Pit of Carcoon.



As a bonus, there is an additional function for the ladies. Pressing the button with the girl's face on it (yes, that's next to the button with the international symbol for "butt" on it) triggers a smaller stainless steel cylinder to telescope out of the larger cylinder, reminiscent of the internal jaws of the creatures in Alien. This cylinder has several holes for delivering a more even, gentle spray, although of course with no less precision of control.

Every contingency has been anticipated. If you're worried about being startled by the experience and jumping up, spraying the walls with water, have no fear. A pressure switch in the toilet seat acts as a safety stop. If you're tired of leaning over to the side to find just the right combinations of control settings, worry no longer. The control panel is a detachable wireless remote control which bounces signals off the ceiling to a sensor on the back of the washlet.

But perhaps the most eerie function of all is the "etiquette spot", the effect of which is most poignant in the dark of night. Lifting the toilet seat automatically activates the "etiquette" system which, like a Predator UAV painting a target for your laser-guided weapon, projects a green dot in the center of the bottom of the toilet bowl, a vivid green bull's eye to keep men focused on the task at hand. Far, however, from being a solitary point in the darkness, the "etiquette spot" has the side effect of illuminating the entire bowl with an unnatural, otherworldly green glow, not unlike an ominous gateway to an evil B-movie nether dimension.



All of this technology and design together launches this device firmly into the curiously ambiguous space between "What in the *@#$% are they thinking?" and "I can't POSSIBLY live without this!" However what is irrefutable is the uncompromising quality of their precision design, which I can only imagine to be the product of decades of research by dedicated engineers, meticulously adjusting complex empirically-derived equations modeling viscosity and solubility (of, um, colloids?), and preparing their solutions for wind-tunnel testing by running elaborate simulations on high-precision finite-element models of the butt.