Story Doesn’t sound particularly encouraging for the chap, either.
Wait, he had a girlfriend?
Wow. Truly inspiring.
You know what? I’m not getting up either.
Make me a turkey pot pie, bitch!
At what point does your laziness overcome the natural instinct not to shit where you sleep?
I may be mistaken, but I think I read that he could not walk, had bad knees or something. Think it was in the Daily Mail.
The popup ad I saw when I clicked on Jenaroph’s link showed a huge photo of glazed donuts…
Whoa, hang on. He had two roommates?.. And they intervened when they found him unconscious.
Okay, I’m not going to say they were assholes. I’m going to assume they just couldn’t get help until then. As the article in the OP states, who the hell are you gong to call? Is there no kind of social services that would do some kind of welfare check and say “Yeah, something’s not right in the head with this guy?” and he needs to go to the hospital and be psychologically evaluated. Or are authorities really stuck until someone like that is in medical distress and passes out?
I can understand if he felt he couldn’t get up and walk around, but there is something more going on when there are adults around you and you can’t say “Hey, can you help me get up and go pee?” or simply “I need help.” Sick and injured, I don’t continue sitting in my own feces for a long period of time unless my cognitive abilities are messed up.
I just came in to congratulate the OP on his impressively concise and descriptive thread title.
Well played, sir.
Gaaaaahhhhhh.
You cannot possibly believe that this man’s driving issue was laziness.
Oops. Double post.
Whenever I hear one of these stories, I wonder “Where does the poo GO?” I mean, really. If you spend two years in your chair, there must be a huge amount of poo. Are these people wearing pants? Do they maybe own a dog who comes and cleans them up? I must know!
Edit: Just read the article. He had a GIRLFRIEND??? :eek:
So do prisoners serving life sentences… my guess is she doesn’t really want a genuine, complete relationship with anyone, so she gets involved in relationships that present real-world barriers.
These stories always make me so sad and so frustrated. I mean, how sad is it that someone’s. . .life (and I use the term loosely) got to a point where this seemed like a viable situation? And how sad and frustrating is it that there was really no agency that could intervene?
I understand that intervening in these cases would be a very slippery thing. I mean, obviously two years is too long to spend in one chair. But how long is not too long? It’s tough to figure out.
Still, sad and frustrating.
One has to wonder about the roommates, too. Most of us would not tolerate living with someone who poops in a chair.
I’m gonna just make an official pronouncement here, of “two days.” Two days is too long to spend in one chair. At that point it is time to get up, use the bathroom, heat up a Hot Pocket, or even just move to a different chair.
Two days.
Just a note for future reference.
I like sitting in my chair. I like relaxing.
But if I ever don’t get out of a chair for basic hygiene, then shoot me. Shoot me right then and there.
ETA: A girlfriend? 
I like this part:
If the guy was shitting in a chair for two years, I have trouble imagining that a blanket could possibly disguise that kind of problem.
I’m gonna go with half a day. If I’m awake, I usually get up every couple of hours. If I’ve been sedated, I’m usually going to have to get up in half a day to use the bathroom, if nothing else. I’ve had episodes when I was delirious, and I still managed to use the potty several times a day (though occasionally I needed help either navigating or just ambulating). But I’d say that even two days is pushing it.