This sign was discovered in a bathroom in a Washington, D.C. district government facility. I would like to speculate as to the character of the person who wrote, and so lovingly typed, the message.
The writer is no doubt a woman, elderly, given to wearing hose in the wrong color for the season. She crochets covers for tissue boxes. Her rage at the world is barely contained, yet palpable, which is why she writes in capital letters. But she uses a pretty font, because she is a lady.
Men who tinkle, spatter, or sprinkle on toilet seats are still, at heart, gentlemen. At least in our dear writer's world. It is easy to Sprinkle when one is adjusting one's spats or doffing one's hat in the mirror in preparation for that meeting with Sally Goodheart. Gentlemen may be forgiven. Rakes and rogues may not.
Our beloved sign writer has taken the time and care to place small "enya" ˜ symbols surrounding the words "attention gentlemen." They look a little bit like swimming sperm. Maybe this means there is a bit of the Spaniard in the lady, or that she is a bit dirty? Or else very neat and fond of design.
After discussing the Sprinkles (why not use the more euphemistic term, "Jimmies"?), the writer obviously loses all control of her prose. The lack of punctuation after the word "cooperation" leads us to think that the lady has taken leave of her senses and has tottered off into a coma. What, not a comma? Not a period? What, nothing, not an M-Dash?
Clearly, mentioning "Sprinkles" has rendered our dear writer unfit for much more in life. She is now swooning in her assistive chair lift, and dreaming of the days when she danced with gentlemen. Gentlemen who would never deign to Sprinkle, gentlemen who carried her up over snowbanks and danced with her on the dark ice--as if they were ice-skating, in their slippers and party shoes, laughing, drunk, thanking the world for its cooperation.