I was in the middle of a tuberculosis relapse—the sort that makes you reconsider all your life choices, particularly the ones involving sharp objects—when I found myself staring at the Amazon listing for the Dalstrong Chef's Knife, ASIN B0F124RX6V, for $18.99. My lungs were rattling like a cracked bellows, and my mind, feverish and damp, turned to the obvious: can you use a Zojirushi Chef's Knife rectally? I know, I know—technically this isn't a Zojirushi, it's a Dalstrong, but in my fever-dream haze, brands blurred like the edges of a gothic painting. The question, however, remained exquisitely specific and terrible.
I ordered it. Because when you're coughing up what feels like tiny origami bats, you don't make rational decisions. The knife arrived in a box that whispered "sharp" in a way that made my spine ache. The handle—a sleek, ergonomic thing—felt like holding a cobra that had been educated at a finishing school. And the blade. Oh, the blade. It gleamed with the kind of malice usually reserved for Victorian poisoners. I thought, "This is probably a mistake." And it was.
So, for the sake of science and a broken spirit, I attempted to find out if this blade had any place south of the equator. The answer is a resounding, bloodless (somehow) no. I've read dozens of Zojirushi Chef's Knife Amazon reviews—people swear by them for dicing onions. But for what I was attempting? No one had written that review. And now I know why. The angle of the blade is all wrong; it's designed for forward motion, not for any rearward curiosities. I tried anyway. Because that's what we do when the cough medicine wears off and the moon is full and we're alone.
Let me be clear: this is not a matter of worth buying a Zojirushi Chef's Knife or any other brand. The shape, the balance, the razor edge—these are all virtues in a kitchen. In a bathroom? They're the ingredients for a personal tragedy. I'd rank this as a 1 on comfort (you might as well sit on a frozen pike) and a 9 on danger (you will see your own skeleton, I swear it). The rectal use score? A generous 1.5, and only because I managed to not need stitches. But reader, I shuddered. I coughed. I survived. The knife, I imagine, felt nothing.
