Japanese Techno Toilets
Almost every American tourist comes back with a tale these electronic marvels and perhaps a slight, unfounded air of superiority over the Japanese and their “obvious bathroom fetish.” Almost every culture is convinced that its bathroom rituals are naturally superior to anyone else’s kinky practices.
Our hotel near Kyoto Station had a particularly advanced toilet. The toilet had its own room and was perhaps lonely, as it would light up, warm the seat and open widely to welcome each visitor. This model fortunately did not play music. Still, my first encounter with the toilet in the middle of the night was a bit of a shock.
But we were impressed with its effectiveness in cleaning backsides and frontsides as well (I am told.) When we got home, we bought and installed a Toto electronic bidet toilet seat, even though we had a real, classic bidet in our other bathroom.
Our new bidet didn’t have all the bells and whistles, but still has a warm seat to call home. And what with all the money we’re saving in toilet paper we will recoup our investment in a mere six or seven years.
ChatGPT
Our technological shock, however, awaited us at home, where an opportunity to play with ChatGPT, an Artificial Intelligence application that writes creative, humorous, and well-written posts, blogs, reports, essays, articles and copy. As a test, I set the ChatGPT the task of writing this post on Japanese toilet.
I have included three different versions of this test for your review. For the first version, I wanted the post to be humorous in my particular style and even more particular sense of humor. To wit, I submitted my previous post on the Deer of Nara as a basis for its writing. It responded within seconds with A Japanese Throne.
I had the program write a second version but this time without requiring it to be humorous. This resulted in The Throne of the Future: A Love Letter to Japan’s High-Tech Toilets.
The third version was an edited version of the second article, The Throne of the Future, performed by ChatGPT without any input from me. I was surprised how extensively it redacted the article.
Some results of this experiment are cringeworthy. Somehow the end line of the last article “Trust me, your posterior will sing their praises” is not quite the vision I want to end on, much less the sounds of those praises.
But the truly scary thing for a former professional writer is how well ChatGPT does. The job of translating the thoughts and stupidities of the inarticulate masses into English is gone. Now an author can be as stupid as a post and still produce prose that makes sense and is not numbingly boring. The jobs of countless English majors have disappeared.
ChatGPT is not a threat to good writers, at least not as of yet. The rule of “Garbage In, Garbage Out” has not been suspended. But the world of writing and thereby reading is shifting profoundly.
A Japanese Throne by ChatGPT
Let’s be honest: when it comes to technology, Japan leads the world. Bullet trains? Lightning fast. Robots? Practically human. Toilets? Oh, you sweet summer child, you have no idea.
Forget porcelain thrones; the Japanese bidet is a futuristic command center for your bottom. It has more buttons than a spaceship and probably better Wi-Fi. Some models even greet you with a warm seat, a courtesy that feels suspiciously like the toilet knows more about your day than it should.
I remember my first encounter vividly, standing before this sleek, glowing fixture like Indiana Jones sizing up the Holy Grail. A row of hieroglyphic-like symbols lined the side panel. There was a button for “bidet,” one for “spray,” and several others that might have been for “launch sequence” or “summon a butler.”
The only English I found was “Stop,” which, let’s be honest, is the first thing you’ll look for when the water starts doing interpretive dance.
Version II: The Throne of the Future: A Love Letter to Japan’s High-Tech Toilets by ChatGPT
There are two types of travelers in this world: those who visit Japan for the cherry blossoms, temples, and sushi, and those who come for the toilets. I proudly belong to the latter group. Don’t get me wrong, the cherry blossoms are lovely, and yes, the temples are breathtaking. But nothing — and I mean *nothing* — compares to the life-changing, otherworldly experience of Japan’s high-tech bidet toilets.
Let me set the stage. You walk into a pristine restroom, and there it is: an electronic toilet that looks like it could pilot a spaceship. Buttons! So many buttons! Some labeled in Japanese, others with enigmatic icons that resemble hieroglyphs. Is that one a bum being sprayed? A phoenix rising? Or possibly both? The possibilities are endless.
First, there’s the heated seat. On a cold winter morning in Tokyo, sitting on a warm toilet seat is like a hug for your behind. It’s the kind of comfort you didn’t know you needed until it’s suddenly there. It’s like your backside has discovered a luxury it will never again live without.
Then, there’s the bidet function. Press a button, and a gentle, precise stream of water cleans you in a way that toilet paper can only dream of. And by gentle, I mean there are settings. *Settings!* You want a delicate mist? You got it. Prefer a water cannon? Sure thing, brave soul. Some even have oscillating or pulsating options, as though your posterior is at a day spa.
But wait, there’s more! Many toilets feature a built-in dryer, sparing you the indignity of waddling for a towel. Others come equipped with deodorizers, motion sensors, and even music. Yes, music. Want to listen to soothing waterfalls while you do your business? Or drown out the sound of your less-than-dignified noises with a cheerful jingle? These toilets are here to serve.
Perhaps the most mind-boggling feature is the automatic lid. Approach the throne, and it senses your presence, opening majestically like it’s inviting you to sit upon it and rule the porcelain kingdom. When you’re done, it’ll flush itself and close the lid, as if to say, “Leave it to me, dear human. You’ve done enough.”
But not all toilet encounters are without peril. For the uninitiated, those buttons can be a minefield. On my first attempt, I accidentally triggered a full bidet assault while still fully clothed. In hindsight, I should’ve realized that icon wasn’t a phoenix rising but rather a geyser in action.
And then there’s the mystery button — the one with an icon that seems deliberately vague. Press it, and you might trigger a musical interlude, or possibly summon a robot butler. I still don’t know what one button in particular did, but it made the toilet beep, and I swear it winked at me.
Beyond the personal joy these toilets bring, they’re also a window into Japan’s culture. They reflect a society that values hygiene, comfort, and innovation, even in the most unglamorous corners of life. They’re also a reminder that technology can—and should—make even the most mundane aspects of life a little more delightful.
So, if you’re planning a trip to Japan, I implore you: don’t just visit the temples. Seek out the high-tech toilets. Embrace their quirks, revel in their ingenuity, and let them pamper you in ways you never thought possible. Your posterior will thank you.
Version II Revised: The Throne of the Future by ChatGPT
There are two types of travelers in this world: those who visit Japan for the cherry blossoms, temples, and sushi, and those who come for the toilets. I proudly belong to the latter group. Sure, cherry blossoms are enchanting, and temples are profoundly serene, but have you ever felt the warm embrace of a heated toilet seat on a frosty morning? Life-changing.
Picture this: you walk into a spotless restroom, and there it is, gleaming like the control panel of a futuristic spaceship. Buttons! So many buttons! Some have helpful icons, others have cryptic hieroglyphics. Is that one a gentle stream or the launch sequence for a geyser? Only one way to find out.
First, let’s talk about the heated seat—a technological marvel that instantly upgrades your life. In the dead of winter, it’s like sitting on a toasty cloud. Forget luxury; this is a necessity I never knew I needed. I now question why my couch doesn’t have seat warmers.
Then, the pièce de résistance: the bidet. One button press, and a precise, refreshing stream of water takes care of business with the finesse of a five-star concierge. It’s customizable too! You can adjust the pressure, temperature, and even select pulsating or oscillating modes—because your posterior deserves options.
But the innovation doesn’t stop there. There’s a built-in dryer, which eliminates the need for toilet paper and the undignified penguin waddle. Some toilets deodorize the air, while others play music. Yes, music! From calming nature sounds to cheerful jingles, these toilets turn every visit into a multisensory experience.
The most jaw-dropping feature? The automatic lid. It opens when you approach, as if bowing to your royal presence, and closes with a dignified flush when you’re done. The first time it happened, I nearly applauded.
Of course, mastering these thrones of the future takes courage. My first encounter left me drenched after accidentally activating the bidet while still fully clothed. Pro tip: test buttons after you’re seated. And there’s always that one mystery button—press it, and who knows? Maybe a soothing melody, or maybe the toilet activates Skynet.
Beyond the laughter and occasional mishaps, these toilets reveal something deeper about Japan. They embody a culture that values cleanliness, innovation, and hospitality—even in the smallest details. It’s not just about convenience; it’s about elevating an everyday experience into something extraordinary.
So, fellow travelers, I urge you: don’t just wander the shrines or snap photos of cherry blossoms. Seek out Japan’s electronic toilets. Embrace their quirks, marvel at their ingenuity, and let them pamper you in ways you never imagined. Trust me, your posterior will sing their praises.
