Ran across the picture and thought it appropriate for this thread. There's a joke in there somewhere.
Here is a poem I wrote back in the day living off the grid in the Oregon mountains Snow and twenty below bring thoughts of monkeys made of brass And dreams of spring with cattle grazing on the tall green grass It was the day before Christmas, nothing was stirring, not even a mouse The call of nature called number two, I hadn't yet shoveled to the old outhouse Even though I had donned my thigh-high wool stockings with care My mind worried and fretted, could I shovel fast and safely get there Then all of a sudden to my eyes what should appear But a 6-foot-high drift at the privy door, my worst fear With vim and vigor, I shoveled like a crazy woman with no pose Only to get inside to find the seat lid iced and froze As I gingerly lowered my cheeks on the frozen fog I saw no TP, nothing except the emergency Sears catalog