My husband bought a bidet. "You just push a button, and it shoots water up your butt," he said. He was driving me home from a visit with a friend. His eyes were glowing. "One thing you should know," he said, sheepishly, "is that I had some trouble with the pipes. There was a small flood. I had to rejigger some connections. You might notice that the bathmat is still wet." And, after a moment: "If all else fails, in my work, I could maybe be a plumber!" Later, at a local retirement facility, Marc showed a video to his father, and to me. It explained the advantages of owning a bidet, a "Tushy." A small, sassy child addressed the camera: "Almost every other country uses a bidet. Get with the program, America!" And: "Using tissue paper means just moving the poop around to new areas of your butt. It's like sweeping dust from one corner to another--then saying you've cleaned!" At this point, the...