The Bathtub

The Omniscient Omtubsman: The One Where I Reveal Which Snack You Are

So last week I presented a fun little game that drove Tori crazy undoubtedly for all of last week. All in all, I would say that any post that accomplishes that result is a rousing success, so congratulations to me. I listed a bunch of snacks and asked you to match those snacks to each of the tubs contributors.  Without further ado (or to be more accurate, with a little more ado, which basically consists of you reading another half sentence and then clicking a link) I present to you the answers to all your snack related inquiries:

The Omniscient Omtubsman: Snack on This

Bathtub contributors are sweet, salty and sometimes stale, just like real snacks. For example, they are sweet when they are hilarious, salty when they've been swimming in the ocean and stale when they were out too late drinking the night before and can't think well enough to come up with a coherent post.  But, thanks to Internet's insatiable demand for fodder, all our snackable posts are consumed by someone out there in cyberspace. Following the jump we'll play a little game involving snacks and tubtributors.

The Omniscient Omtubsman: And We Shall Salt the Earth So Nothing Grows Here Ever Again

Last week tubtributors debated the merits of New Jersey and the results were somewhat surprising. Having been familiar with New Jersey and New Jerseyites for quite a few years now, I thought that matter had been pretty much laid to rest long ago in favor of the "New Jersey is a pit" crowd, but apparently there are still those out there who believe otherwise, i.e. that people from New Jersey aren't genetically and culturally inferior to your average chimpanzee. Who knew? While I freely acknowledge that I have friends who live in New Jersey, family who live in New Jersey and even I have a job that involves frequent trips to New Jersey (believe it or not, I will actually be in New Jersey when this post goes live) I have never felt any compunction about proposing to building a giant rim around the entire state so that denizens of New York and Pennsylvania might use New Jersey as a giant trash receptacle. Nevertheless, for purposes of this post I will put my biases aside and evaluate the various arguments put forth for and against the abolition of New Jersey and relocation of New Jerseyites the four corners of the Earth (so that they may never reconvene another society based on guinea tees and back hair).

The Omniscient Omtubsman: Wherein "Omniscience" is redefined as "Psychosis"

I haven't been conversing much this week. For me, this is somewhat unusual because I usually have an inordinate number of opinions on just about everything and tend to think those opinions are important enough for people to want to hear them. But this week, those opinions and my own self-importance has taken a breather in part because of something that happened on this blog two weeks ago. I guess, what I'm trying to say, is that I've been thinking a lot lately. I've always wanted to say that the explanation for the fact that I wasn't speaking as much was because I had "a rich inner life." I admit that it's a pretty pretentious thing to say, but somehow I think it commands a bit of respect because, if true, it conveys a deeply felt satisfaction that I think all people should strive for.  However, I've always had some difficulty credibly making the claim of having a "rich inner life" for two reasons: number one...the aforementioned inability to conceal my opinions; and number two... the fact that I spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about things that probably in no way enrich anybody, least of all me.

The Omniscient Omtubsman: Delving Deep as Art Goes Down the Drain

All I have to say about art week in the Tub is "Wow." Not "wow" as in what an amazing week. Not even "wow" as in it really surprised me. "Wow" as in, we, collectively, have the least amount of real, actual knowledge about art as any twelve people ever in the history of the world. Lauren never seemed so prescient as when she predicted what would follow her post would be a series of "non-expert crap."  To recap, Tubtributors think the following things constitute art: Battlebots, Marmaduke, Fart Jokes, Congressional Candidates from Indiana, iPhone sludge, some trivia quiz designed to make kids feel smart because it contains the word "Brain", LiteBrite, and genitalia with faces.  Again, Wow.  But, as the saying goes, "art is in the eye of the beholder," so apparently there is something terribly wrong with the eyes of our tubtributors. After the jump, I'll delve into the various psychological responses of the tubtributors when confronted with art.

The Omniscient Omtubsman: Raining on your parade

Only one comment came to mind when looking over weather week in the Tub: it blew.

The Omniscient Omtubsman: The Tubtributor you missed most last week. Who is the Omtubsman?

Well, folks, I'm back from my vacation from posting. Sometimes posting seems much like an actual job, what with it's constant emails and strict deadlines.  So getting away can be a way to clear one's head and re-group or even renew one's vows with the blog, so as to become a better blogger. Sometimes, but not this time. Don't expect anything particularly new and exciting in this column. Read on, for warmed-over mediocrity!

The Raiftubsman/Gorg-O's Time to Shine: You're All A Bunch of Wusses

  Well, it sure was an awful week as far as the Bathtub was concerned!  (Or should I say, as FEAR as the Bathtub was concerned!!)  We were subjected to Tubtributor after Tubtributor whining because their moms never left the nightlight on, or their dads never drove them to skee-ball practice, or things of that nature.  If I gave out prize tickets depending on the level of skillz for writing about fear . . . you guys wouldn't even win enough to buy one of those plastic cup and ball toys that you get from the prize booth!!  Hat, hat, hat!!

I was appalled to learn, however, that longtime Tub Superfan Gorg-O was not as pessimistic as I was about this week.  This inspired a Tito vs. Willoughby style debate between me and Gorg-O, which we have submitted to the Omtubsman.  Read it . . . if you dare!!! Hat, hat, hat!!

The Omniscient Omtubsman: Circling the Wagons

Before I do anything, I'm going to admit that I'm pretty much stealing the idea for this column from LMNOP. For those of who aren't longtime readers or contributors, LMNOP is Lauren's original blog, which existed for about a year and a half before spawning the unholy beast you're currently reading.  LMNOP is pretty consistently amusing and often downright hilarious, and one of the features that I particularly like on that blog is a feature where Lauren looks back at what Google search words people used in order to end up on her site.  Since I don't particularly have anything to say about circle week on the blog, I'm instead going to devote this week to adapting Lauren's theme to the Bathtub. You'll also notice that I'm stealing from another tubtributor for the format of my column this week. To see what I mean follow the jump.

The Omniscient Omtubsman: Internet Potato Au Gratin

From an omtubsman's point of view (as if there were more than one of us), last week's theme presented a wealth of riches. With everyone switching columns in what was somewhat mysteriously dubbed "Internet Potato" (which, as Tori pointed out, was a derivative moniker of "Hot Potato," a traditional game in which hungry Irish children must pass around a scalding but delectable starchy tuber), I got a chance to scientifically analyze the various columns and their underlying columns in a manner not previously achievable. In cheesemaking, this process is called separating the curd from the whey. Following the jump, you'll find out which tubbers ended up as finely aged Gouda, and which ones might by best sprayed from a can.