" ... And I have to live with him," is the sassy follow-up that we like to imagine. We also like to imagine how "asking for water to clean yourself" would go over in the restroom of your average American sports bar (Hint: not so much).
Why we're on board:
Say you walk into the bathroom of said sports bar. The place is empty, so you pick out a stall at the far end, next to the wall so as to minimize any potential man-on-man adjacency. Just as you unfurl General Kong, some douchebag that you vaguely recognize from high school walks in. He sees you, smiles, and starts up a conversation.
Son of a bitch. This is YOUR time to commune (i.e. compare existential wangs) with the big man upstairs. The last thing you want to do is make awkward small talk with your junk exposed. Under the current rules, you look like an uptight asshole if you ignore the guy.
Under the new rule, you can, nay must, remain stone-faced and silent. Further, Captain Chatterbox would have to have balls of steel to even try it in the first place. If you think there is some sort of tedious and sober procedure for vetting impulse death sentences, allow us to burst your bubble: one call to 1-800-FATWA is all it would take to request that a hit be put out on his ass.