A Fair to Middling Post from the V.O.L.

I have nothing of value to say today which is a good thing because I have lost my voice. Not my literary voice (although that is arguably correct) but because there appears to be an irritation in or on (such medical and prepositional niceties elude me) my vocal folds. Until 10 minutes ago, I didn't even know that I possessed vocal folds. I considered posting a photo of said folds, but - you'll have to trust me on this - they look uncomfortably like certain parts of the female reproductive system. Feeling particularly crappy already - with no voice and a bad case of razor-blade throat (I believe I am responsible for first coining the phrase "razor-blade throat") - I don't really need to incur the wrath of my mother when she downloads a photo of any bodily fold.

So my enfeebled brain grappled with a subject about which I might write a few lines. With April drawing to a close, this month's 8 verified hangings in the Islamic Republic of Iran would make for a good read - or I could talk about World Laboratory Animal Liberation Week which concludes tomorrow. Perhaps I could guesstimate how many female babies were exposed to the elements, strangled, or poisoned in India and China.

I feel a nap beckoning me and, to be truthful, I just don't have the physical or intellectual energy to tackle any weighty issues; instead, I offer you this. Digging through some notes I made in Portugal last December, I came across a sign (which I couldn't not jot down) from the door of the public restroom in Lisbon's downtown tourist information centre:

Help keep our washrooms clean.
Please don't pee on the floor.

Sort of makes you wonder what class of tourist Lisbon generally attracts.