This is a Toto (brand) Washlet and a cat named Kitt. I installed Washlets in two upstairs and one lower bathroom two years ago.
This particular Washlet model is self-cleaning. It is also a bit noisy as it sprays oxygenated water on all inner surfaces to keep everything nice and fresh and clean. In fact, noisy enough I had to get used to it. Kitt too, but Kitt still isn’t convinced there isn’t some one or some thing inside making those hisses and spits. So, for the past two years, she returns to it whenever it goes through its automated cleaning program. (The lid normally stays down.)
As the Feline race is inclined to be fastidiously cautious, Kitt has never been convinced I didn’t secretly install a little man inside the device to keep tabs on her, or sneak up on her when she isn’t looking. So she has kept tabs right back, especially when it makes noises she associates with living breathing things.
What does this have to do with MH370, you ask? Nothing directly, but it reminded me the other day of the languishing tragedy deep in the South Indian Ocean where a small group of boffins and seafarers continue to return to the same small spot to look for something that was never there, and will never be there. Unlike Kitt, who at least moves around to other places in the house where other Washlets perform their duties day in and day out, would-be MH370 searchers have 4,000 km to search, but they sadly keep returning to -38.0° South, 88.5° East near the southern-most end of a strip of seafloor barely 100 km long and 50 km wide. Not once have they ventured beyond that tiny little comfort zone where something in their equally tiny and dysfunctional navigation instincts refuses to give-it-a-rest and move on.
But the tragedy isn’t just their collective inability to adjust to the fact that their initial assumptions were hugely wrong: they have become squatters in the process. By refusing to expand the area of search interest, they have doomed efforts to find the plane and its victims in a timely manner; and they have prevented families from finding closure. The cruelness of these actions and inactions is deplorable, and causes us to ask if these autistic bureaucrats are real people with feelings and emotions? Or are they simply automatons created for the sole purpose of covering the behinds of Australia’s Intelligentsia?
It’s probably an unanswerable question. At least, it is probably a question families and tragedy-watchers must answer individually. The scientific world has been loudly guffawing at Australia’s ATSB and CSIRO for its severe learning disability. Australia meanwhile pretends it doesn’t hear. From all appearances, those in charge at CSIRO were far more interested in writing an absurd book about how they used Bayesian Statistics to find the plane, than in actually finding it. The book may have been an academic success, but the search ranks up there with using hydrogen to fill the Hindenburg, and “Brownie, you’re doing a heckuva job”.
And the graphic below is not just the face of failure in two dimensions, it is flatly pornographic and I’m told it was intended to be a pornographic comment directed at search critics, of which there are many. Hard to imagine it was not intended exactly that way. Anyone over the age of 12 or so would have had better sense than to publish anything remotely resembling a giant penis. But it is how Dr. Neil Gordon and his CSIRO colleagues decided to strike back in 2015. It has never been withdrawn. And Australia’s subservient media actually ignored it, begging the question: Who is REALLY the dick?
At this writing, Australia insists it will give up the search entirely when the lone search vessel, Fugro Equator, completes her current assignment. Almost everyone hopes it does exactly that. It has come down to an inability to find the haystack, let alone the needle. No exact date has been provided for Australia’s sprint home, but everyone who has followed this tragedy knows Equator could have quit a year ago and not missed anything related to MH370.