June 21, 2012
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On poop
Feces is a subject which I find most fascinating and thoroughly enjoyed discussing amongst my peers while I was in school.
Much like humor, it is still a matter that scientists are mystified by and struggle to try and understand.
"What is shit? Where does it come from? What is it made of?"
Little is known about poop, but much is said about it. Simply typing a google search of the word or any variation of it will bring fourth an overwhelming number of results providing you with a plethora of information.
While the facts may be lacking, the faith is not. Asking any man or women on the street if they have seen or heard of shit will grant you a look of raised eyebrows followed by a:
"Who are you?"
Clearly, people are not impressed.
To each of us, poop symbolizes different things. To some, poop is love. To others, poop is joy. To others, poop is release and freedom from the imprisonment society places upon us, but to me, poop is the beginning and the end, the alpha and the omega, the essence of life and death.
IF it hadn't been for massive deuces, I would not know half the people I do in real life because many times it was in public toilet stalls where our first encounters originated. More times than not, I will receive picture messages on my phone of friends sending me their photos of giant logs with the added message, 'Thinking of you <3'
So yes.... While both touchingly disgusting, and probably far too informative than necessary, I hope that my short essay has granted you all with more insight in order to appreciate the beauty in life that surrounds us all on a regular basis. Next time you shit, don't just flush it down the toilet while you point your nose upward and away in disgust. Stop. Smell the shit. Love the shit. It's your shit.
In conclusion, thank you all for reading. I hope you have a nice day.
Fin.
Bibliography:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shit
Comments (3)
This felt a little forced, much like a shit that is forced, squeezed slowly and painfully out of an anal cavity not yet ready to release its newest creation. A solitary tear trickles down your cheek as you finally finish, and stand over the bowl, bidding your log a shamed farewell, in a fashion much similar to how I imagine you pressed the "save entry" button.
Best bibliography.
Porn. Go!
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