Someone mentioned the Original Whizzinator (accept no substitutes!) in the comments the other day — it’s basically a device designed to beat drug tests, if one doesn’t mind the idea of wearing a hollow strap-on filled with reconstituted freeze-dried urine. Nothing like being on the cutting edge; the WashPost brings us an amusing account of the Whizzinator’s moment in the congressional sun this week:
The Whizzinator isn’t quite the gold standard in athletic endorsements. Rather, Stupak is bemoaning the ease with which people can buy Whizzinators with credit cards, money orders or checks, and have them delivered by U.S. mail or UPS or FedEx.
“How will we stop the flow?” he asks plaintively. A small cluster of spectators — seizing on the unintended double-entendre — giggle audibly in the back of the room.
It is one of those mornings.
We meet the Whizzinator’s inventor, too:
A press scrum gathers around Dennis Catalano, originator of the Whizzinator. He is one of three representatives from companies that make products that could be used to subvert drug tests who have been compelled (by subpoena) to testify.
Catalano, who owns Puck Technology of Signal Hill, Calif., is something of a Henry Ford figure in this business. There are all manner of urine purifiers and substitutes on the market. But nobody beats the Whizzinator in terms of brand recognition, especially after Onterrio Smith.
But I don’t want to spoil your fun. Go read.
Personally, I think when you start shopping for a Whizzinator, the universe is telling you something. Specifically: “Lay off the pot, hippie-boy.” I’ve been fortunate in the timing of my job changes, vis-a-vis drug testing, which is one way of saying by the time they got started in earnest, I had aged out of the Whizzinator demographic, so to speak. I recall the editor of my newspaper telling us corporate policy would now require drug screenings, but he wanted us to know that a positive test would not necessarily be a deal-breaker for new hires, as far as he was concerned. It would be but one factor among many to consider. He was a good guy.
How things change. A few years later, a good, competent reporter came to fill a temp position and did so admirably. His hiring on a permanent basis would have been a shoo-in, were it not for that urine sample that tested positive for cannabis. (Needless to say, the one-factor-among-many editor had left the building by that point.) “You dumbass,” the editor who broke the bad news said to him, and I can’t blame her for using that word, although we were dumbasses, too, because he would have been an asset to the staff, at least based on his performance. What he does after work is his own business, in my opinion.
But then, every time you say that, you tempt fate, and beckon the forces of irresponsible drug use to start plundering office supplies, to sell for one’s next “fix” of “Acapulco gold.”
I interviewed a restaurant executive chef not long ago, and we got off on a tangent about dealing with owners, who may enjoy the experience of owning a restaurant — so everybody-goes-to-Rick’s, doncha know — but may not know much about the business. She said the owners wanted to institute criminal background checks and drug testing for each and every employee, which was proving to be way more trouble than it was worth. “All I need is a dishwasher,” she moaned. “If I were a dishwasher, I’d be stoned all the time, too. It’s like a job requirement.”
(You know, most days I sit down to update this site with no idea what I’m going to write about; I just sit down and let my subconscious drive. And see how useful it can be? I’m now reminded to prepare a pitch for a magazine story I’ve been wanting to write about my distant cousin, founder of the U.S. Marijuana Party.)
I won’t be seeing the new “Star Wars” movie, non-sucky reviews or no. That’s another demographic I’ve aged out of, and since my own child shows little or no interest in “the Star Wars brand,” as it’s called these days, well, good for me. I capital-E enjoyed the first one; I lowercase-e enjoyed the second. By the time Lucas had stooped to the squeaky Care Bears, I had moved on from Han Solo to the erotic charms of Snake Plissken, thanks very much.
Just reading the reviews makes me smack my forehead. Is there actually a character named “Darth Sidious”? Count Dooku? Boba Fett? Spare me. Or, to put it another way: I’ve got a bad feeling about this.