Thats a little better than the Gandhian who crapped in the bidet in Henry Miller's, Tropic of Cancer.
As spelled out in Toward a Modernist Style: John Dos Passos, by Donald Pizer: In a characteristic incident of Tropic of Cancer, Miller is asked to aid a young disciple of Gandhi who has been sent to Europe to spread the gospel of his master. More specifically he is asked to guide the disciple, who has been wearied by his efforts, on a whorehouse visit. There then follows the initially farcical incident of the Indian using a bidet for a toilet and producing two large turds, much to the dismay of the prostitute and the madam. The next night, Miller again accompanies the young disciple in his pursuit of the "fucking business." Once in a low dive of a brothel, Miller begins to meditate on the previous night's events. Gradually he pushes towards an insight. Man, he realizes, has devoted his energy towards time in pursuit of miracles to confirm impossible beliefs. + + + Anyway, count on me to come in at such moments. And remember the ones held in esteeem are not sending any of this your way. I mean, to enlighten those of you who may not know such things, and benefit from a chuckle, or a tiik tikk chakli/ chakleo. But, but how can I forget that I have been doing this for many, many years. Hopefully it will only get better, better grammar, vocabulary not being a problem for sure, way, way sharper ideas, etc., etc., etc. :) + + + + + + + + + Venantius J Pinto
