For centuries, the foremost differences between men and women have been clearly and abundantly illustrated by the constant, boundless conflict relating to the appropriate disposition of the toilet seat. While, on the face of it, it would seem that this struggle should be absurdly effortless to resolve, neither side seems prepared to find the middle ground. And so the hostilities carry on. The chief criticism women appear to have about men is that they never put the toilet seat down. This seems, through some bizarre, unexplainable process, to result in the aforementioned women sitting on chilly porcelain, or worse, plunging into the receiving water and becoming inextricably ensnared in the clutches of the Johnny. No doubt a fear-provoking and mortifying encounter, the results of which are to render the previously delineated men's lives a living hell for weeks at a time. Personally, I fall short of fully comprehending this predicament. My solitary, plausible deduction is that there is a particular, hitherto undiscovered visual handicap which affects only women. A handicap which prevents them, by some means, from looking downward before they seat themselves. As anyone who has ever relished the thought of lounging in the recliner with a frosty beer and two hours of professional wrestling, only to plop down upon an unexpectedly infuriated, bloodthirsty cat has learned, there is clear-cut and lifesaving significance in examining the anticipated seat before utilizing it. But, due to some astonishing brain impairment which seems to occur to the female of the species at birth, this capability seems to have been mislaid. Attendant to this handicap is an out of the ordinary side effect which occurs only in the heart of the nighttime. You've witnessed it, surely. The female awakens from a cozy, comfy bed in order to avail herself of the facilities. But, due to the aforementioned handicap, she is seated in a manner which evokes her grim discontent, whereupon she returns to the bed and wakes the male from an unassailable slumber in order to make it undeniably certain that he knows and comprehends the foregoing ugliness and will be primed for the comprehensive range of malicious repercussions. But let us scrutinize this situation. Where did we go amiss? How did this misfortune transpire? Well, it's that side effect we mentioned. Remember, it's the middle of the night, it's dark, exceedingly dark, and the female of the species is merrily heading for the facilities, oblivious to the catastrophe which is approaching. And there you have it. Any standard, undamaged human being, in the darkness which is attendant to the hours of night, has no difficulty utilizing a marvelous up-to-the-minute discovery called light. To smooth the progress of this phenomenon of the inventor's shop, architects have, after years of dialogue and dispute, placed trouble-free switches in proximity to the vestibules in each and every lavatory. However, the brain damage suffered by the female sex seems to additionally paralyze their arms and hands once late night hours have occurred, making it unfeasible for them to make use of these spectacular electrical devices which would greatly enhance their capacity to glance down before they seat themselves. Well, there you have it, eh wot? Dash it all, it's nature. Quite frankly, however, were I a person of the female persuasion, I expect I would be quite appreciative that various men even go to the trouble to raise the seat UP before managing the business at hand. Think about it.

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