Dear Mr. 'postrophe:

I have been living in Taiwan for 5.3 months and need some help using the toilet. Even the McDonalds lack Western facilities. Is there a book or pamphlet I can read?

-Aint Got Squat

Dear Squaint:

My advice to you is auto asphyxiation. There are plenty of videos on the internet but the basic idea is to get a noose and a lemon. First, hold your breath. The pressure will help expunge your bowels and keep you from choking on the fetid fumes in the squat zone. The noose will keep you from falling backwards into the floor filth, and the lemon will wake you back up.

The culprit here is ultimately wealth. In Western countries, chairs are abundant. We never learn to squat properly (resting back on the heels of your feet, not the balls of your feet) and pay a hefty price at the book store, grocery aisle, or any of the other numerous times you need to not stand. Just look at any photo of India and you will most likely see hundreds of people squatting comfortably for hours on nature's own seat, which comes onboard. No need for peripherals. There's nothing like factory chair!

Dear Mr. 'postrophe:

I'm an avid film lover and huge fan of series TV on television.  After a busy day, I love to turn on the tube and enjoy a show.  The problem is my wife.  She has horrible taste in TV and even worse in film.  We can never agree on a decent show to watch.  Can you offer any suggestions?

Estranger in an Estrangeland.

Dear Essss:

Sometimes it's hard to bridge cultural gaps without the aid of knowledge, compromise, or respect.  Which does beg the question, why did you marry this person?  Surely a marriage built upon such toilet paper pedestals would have crumbled into the tepid Formosan sea, warmed with the nuclear runoff of myopic short-term goals, systemic regulation failures, and virally endemic corruption.  (I'm talking about your marriage crisis, not the Nuclear Energy scandals in Taiwan.)    

As for your Entertainment Crisis, the entire set of all magnum opi in the entirety of film -- I'm talking about every film that was ever or will ever be made, envies the suspension of disbelief you white guys impart with your Mannequinian mateship.  How much intimacy did you really hope to achieve?  I'm guessing TV isn't the only point of departure in your bungled union with this significant other.  Shouldn't the question be something like, How can I achieve more substantial mental intimacy and mind meld with my partner?  How can I begin foraging a bridge across the chasm left by the hostage of my orgasm?  

Turn off the TV.  Turn on your wife.  Less escape and more escapades.  With enough patience, hard work, and knowledge, I'm confident you will be able to enjoy every season of Friends with her eventually.