I mean, it’s got those big metal teeth, and the noise makes me think some Japanese Lovecraft fan has finally assembled Mecha-Cthulhu.
Yet somehow it’s fragile:
I laughed when my daughter told me that you couldn’t put a leaf of lettuce down the disposal. But when the plumber came to fix the thing, he showed me how the thing had met its match dealing with a piece of lemon. The plumber told me more stuff you can’t put in the disposal, among them rice.
The plumber told me that the disposal is a delicate, exquisitely calibrated mechanism and gave me a list of things you can’t put in it. Everything I mentioned was forbidden. I was starting to think that the only food congenial to the disposal was homemade chicken soup, maybe. If you strain it.
Sheesh. The thing will swallow a teaspoon if you give it the slightest opportunity, but it chokes on citrus?
(Maybe it’s a function of age. I bought a new one three years ago, mainly because the old one had deteriorated to such an extent that water was weeping through its base.)