There are some things that amaze me.

Like yesterday, Maureen went to the Naval Hospital we used to call Balboa, but they got uppity and renamed it a whole bunch of times. For now., they call it Naval Medical Center San Diego. i still call it Balboa.

We both go to Balboa to see several specialists there. Preventive Maintenance, something i learned on ships in the Navy that is worth its weight in gold .

Regardless, we were there. There were several things i noticed about which i will refrain my comments. They would sound like a rant. They would be. But three things could not be overlooked.

In the middle of the complex courtyard, someone decided to place a cannon that appears to predate World War I. They painted it gold. i’m wondering what the hell are they telling their patients with an age-old gold cannon in the middle of a medical center.

In the bowels of Building One, the medical center boasts a McDonald’s. Healthy. Right?

And finally, i went to the men’s head on the second deck of that building. As i looked down at the urinal, i noticed a silver plaque beside the handle to the flush mechanism, which itself had a green arrow pointing upward and a red arrow pointing downward. Well, if a man is standing next to a urinal, he doesn’t have a lot to do but his business, so i, with time to spend, read the plaque.

It bragged about how Sloan, the manufacturer of the urinal and the Navy Medical Center were being environmentally conscious and conserving water.

Then it gave operating instructions. It said if there was liquid waste, i should push the handle up. If it was solid waste, i should push the handle down (All i could think about was Young Frankenstein when Gene Wilder as Young Frankenstein, kept telling Marty Feldman as Igor, and Terry Garr as Von Frankenstein’s assistant to “PUT THE CANDLE BACK!”).

First, i wondered what brilliant mind thought solid waste would be in a urinal. Then, being inquisitive, i flushed twice, once up and once down. i couldn’t tell any difference in the flushes.

Go figure.

This is the kind of thing old men think about.

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