Poop Smeared in Hard to Reach Places

I poop at work quite often. This has been established before, but i need re-emphasize the fact that most of my observations on the state of pooping in America come from the work place restroom. There are other places I poop and they vary widely, especially as I have grown older and my fear of pooping in public restrooms has dwindled quite significantly. But I have taken extensive notes on my co-workers' poops.
One coworker specifically has captivated me with his complete disregard for cleanliness and poop etiquette. Now, i can write a billion blogs on what I have observed him accomplish fecally, but what I observed today raises general questions on the restroom as a communal space and what taking responsibility for your poo entails.
Today, I rushed into the bathroom stall to see a familiar site. Brown streaks smeared in the upper-most reaches of the toilet bowl. I'm talking just under the seat. A place where no water travels and once it gets dirty, it stays dirty until a little elbow grease can take care of it.
First off, the smear was so high up there are only three ways it could have gotten there:
1.) He practices yoga when he poops (Sun Salutation) and his asshole points skywards, offering his waste to the gods.
2.) He shits so strongly that it richochets off the water and bounces right back to wear it came from. I can't imagine what the wipe is like.
3.) He has a weak sphincter resulting in weak precision and wide poo trajectory.

Now, this a very fundamental part of poop etiquette that I have discussed before. You need to stick around after the wipe and flush to see what sort of damage you have done. Then you need to complete damage control. It's kind of Similar to the nature-aware mentality that states, "leave the camp-site cleaner then how you found it."
Seeing these hard to reach streaks of poo do not anger me as much as the terrible things I observe on a daily basis (i.e. the fools that have to pee in the stall toilet, but don't lift the seat or wipe the seat, leaving the beads of urine on the seat for the more stall-entitled poopers to either sit on or clean up). I think these streaks are represent a larger problem of the poorly designed American public restroom. Why are we not offered the tools to get at these hard to reach streaks? Why are we not offered a toilet that is totally self cleaning? If there was anything in the world that should be self cleaning, it should be a public toilet. I swear, considering the lack of poo etiquette in this country, we are only a few steps away from having all public restroom rights taken away. It's too much work to keep clean and current restrooms are not designed to handle all the messy people out in the world.
I was in Germany a few years back (7 years ago). Got dinner at a gas station (USA! USA!) and used their bathroom. The fucking toilet seat was self-cleaning. My god, we are so far behind. It's this type of sweeping innovation that needs to occur in our restroom facilities.

ENOUGH!

Spicy food makes for a spicy poop

Spicy food goes in hot and comes out hot. It burns my mouth lips and my butt hole lips. Enough said.

12 minute uphill hike

Time in Bathroom, 12 minutes...

Wipe was heavy like cream cheese spread across a bagel. Or was it like taking heavy cream cheese off a bagel? You decide.
Second wipe triggers another log. I question my ability to judge my bowels. They are tricky monkeys mischievously chewing gobs of banana. They punch each other's cheeks and laugh maniacally with each explosion of banana protein. Only when my body feels empty do i know my time on the throne is complete.

Second wipe, is still thick with my leavings. Several more deep wipes irritate my tender hole. I finish, body empty, toilet paper gone. Thick chocolate streaks decorate the bowl. Thick fumes decorate the air and hangs stagnant and rotten like dead moss on a willow tree. The smell tickles my nostrils and trigger a nose bleed. Blood trickles from my nostril and beads of sweat roll down my cheeks. One last wipe with tiny scraps for certainty's sake. Blood there too. Under my heavy breath, i vow to control these bowels once and for all.

Fecal Pasta

Poop Schedule has been thrown off kilter:

What seemed like a large load of waste turned out to be about 20 little pieces of poop. It looked similar to a Spaetzle dish, the delightful German pasta that makes a food lover's mouth water.

Some floated, but most sat at the bottom. Subsequent poops have yielded the same little guys. Must eat a full meal so i can beef up the waste.

Goal: Drink several cups of coffee and attempt a hearty poo by 10:30 AM this morning

In regards to wiping your ass and throwing the TP in the garbage can instead of the toilet

A few years ago a friend of mine complained of a college roommate who wiped his ass then threw the toilet paper in the garbage. He was justifiably disgusted by this practice, as I'm sure much of population is, because most people throw that used toilet paper in the toilet and flush it down. Despite always flushing toilet paper down, soon after hearing the story, I found myself contemplating a used piece of toilet paper. I glanced at the toilet and I glanced at the trash can. Toilet. Trash can. I dropped it in the trash can. What could be the harm?

When i was young, like around 4 years old. I experimented with wiping procedures a bit. I remember throwing the toilet paper in the trash can a few times. Also, I remember being reprimanded by my mother for wiping with a wash cloth. Sometimes, I'd save pooing for right before bath time and then wipe my bum on the bottom of the tub. It's gross, I know, but it was accepted during these experimental times. 4 and 5 year olds are learning and developing their own bathroom etiquette and I eventually assimilated to the norm.

So i had a break down in assimilation, or a digression in maturity when i threw that piece of toilet paper in the trash can. But I wasn't the only one using the bathroom. At the time, I was living with my cousin, who was also privy to the story of the TP garbage can dilemma my friend presented. The next day, I noticed a line of ants converging on the trash can. I looked in and saw the used piece of toilet paper covered in ants. My cousin also saw the ants:

"You see all the ants in the bathroom?"
"Yes," I replied hesitantly.
"See that they're in the garbage can?"
"Huh, weird. I guess I'll take out the trash."

The incident was left at that, but I'm pretty sure my cousin saw the item that the ants were so interested in devouring. Thankfully, she understood my fascination with exploring new modes of living and existing. She new i liked to change things up. However, i found out why some things are just meant to be accepted as status quo.

Triumph: Lack thereof

Fueled by two cups of coffee, my butt hole is beckoned to the restroom. As Captain Ahab's dead hand beckons his crew to follow him to death, so too does the toilet seat wave me over for a rendezvous of sorts. This is a man vs. machine conflict. Or is it man vs. himself? It's a combination of both:
The toilet seat is cold, the paper seat cover sticks to my ass and the bowl does little to contain the smell of various digested meats and vegetables. My poo is like molasses, thick and slow to leave the bottle. I cannot help but urinate; wetting the paper seat cover, pieces cling to my penis. Wiping is torture and my butt hole quivers under the stress.
I flush. Slowly pull my pants and underwear back up, and question whether I have even finished pooping. I quietly return to my desk, unaccomplished, tail between my legs, or is it a piece of fecal matter? There is no triumph in the men's room today.

Wed ness Day

I haven't pooped in 2 weeks. It's building up so hard.