Recent Movements

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve been having a harder time getting over jetlag. I’m fine going overseas–I can stay up as long as I need to and then my body adjusts to a new clock. But on the way home–it takes weeks before I readjust. And a certain bodily function seems to have a clock of its own, one that takes forever to revert back to regular movement, and has been waking me up in the middle of the night, telling me it’s actually morning. If you don’t know what I’m talking, the following will soon make it clear.

Today’s topic is something that we’re all very aware of. We do it every day. We were fascinated by it as children—in fact, some children like to make art with it. As adults, we examine it, consider it, pretend it never happened, or fixate on it, but we rarely discuss it. It goes by many names: dump, turd, doodie, dingleberry, fudgebunny, rosebud, or in my own family’s case, trump (which makes sense, considering…) Yes, I’m talking about poop. Admit it—we all, in our own way, are interested in this subject, at least our OWN subject. Most people really don’t care to think about other people’s sh*t—well, their LITERAL sh*t anyway. In fact, most people are FAR too interested in other people’s figurative sh*t for their own good, and are always happy to express their opinions on things that never concern them.

At any rate, I’ve come to realize that I may just be weirdly interested in poop. It started years ago, when I was in the hospital after having major surgery. In the bathroom, there was a chart that had images of different kinds of poop on it, and descriptions of what each one meant. Like there was the “normal” poo that looked like a sleek log, then there was the bulky poo that looked like really long, dry cookie dough and was described as “a sausage shape with cracks in the surface”, which meant the person was somewhat dehydrated. (If you’re interested in more of this, just google “Bristol Stool Chart”—I know you’re saying out loud “No way”, but we both know you’ll secretly look at it). Then, a few years ago, I saw a giant poo in the doorway of a defunct sushi restaurant in town. Right away, I was like “Whoa! That’s the biggest poo I’ve ever seen! Also, its owner needs to drink more fluids.” Later, it was still there and I tried to point it out to a friend, but she was like “No! You need to stop. I do NOT want to see an unhomed person’s poop.” I realize some people are just really uncomfortable with random feces, but this was like World Record stuff—it literally haunted my thoughts for days, and every time I passed the doorway, even though it was long gone, I pondered the size, and diet, of its owner.

Sometimes it occurs to me that just maybe I should keep my fascination with poo to myself, but I can write about whatever the hell I want, and you can judge me, but you can’t argue with the fact that deep in your secret heart, you also think poo is, if not cool, at least interesting and informative. Seriously, nobody is watching as you nod and smile. Or when you look into the toilet in the morning to inspect your offering. The other day, I felt the urge, and afterwards I snuck a peek. My reaction? “Huh. Impressive!” Then I giggled a little, because I said it out loud, but no one else was in the bathroom to hear me.

And please don’t try to tell me that you have never passed judgement on your own sacrifice to the porcelain god, because we all do it. We’ve all gone, “Holy hell! What did I eat yesterday?” or “Why doesn’t corn digest like regular normal food?”, “Alcohol sure does a number on my bowels”, or just “Good one!” I think the world would be a much happier place if we all discussed our poop on a regular basis—after all, no matter what colour, gender, or religion you are, it’s something we ALL have in common. I was thinking last night about how best to use modern media to bring us all together via bodily waste and I came up with a TV show that would address the issue :

A beach scene. People in uniform milling around. A body lying on the sand. Camera pans to a large poo beneath a palm tree. Cut to Danny.

Danny: It’s not looking good, boss.
Horatio: Tell me what you’ve got, Dann-o.
Danny: Large male, judging by size. Probably a vegan, based on the amount of broccoli and self-righteousness smooth texture. Well-hydrated. Looks like the Number 2 Killer has struck again.
Horatio: (gazes sternly into distance). I’m making the Number 2 Killer my Number 1 priority. He won’t get away with this shit again. Let’s roll.

Camera cuts away and credits roll to the sound of “Squeeze Box” by The Who. The title appears: CSI: Excremental.

I know, right? There’s also a twist on the new Sherlock Holmes drama which I call “Alimentary”. It’s the same basic premise as CSI: Excremental, but with more deductive reasoning:

Sherlock: I’ve come to the conclusion that our victim is indeed a beet farmer.
Watson: How could you possibly know that?
Sherlock: For God’s Sake, Watson—look at the colour of his scat. That slight pink tinge is a dead giveaway. Have I taught you nothing?!

So the next time you secretly poke through your dog’s crap with a stick to see if he ate some tinfoil, or jump with joy at your baby’s ginormous diaper dump, know that you’re not alone. Here’s a vintage cookie jar for you that looks just like the poo emoji.

30 thoughts on “Recent Movements”

  1. In a misguided attempt to “fix” my lesbianism, my parents shipped me off to an all-boys boarding school, as if sheer exposure to testosterone would somehow rewire my brain. Naturally, it had the opposite effect. To escape the chaos of teenage boys, I joined the yearbook staff, where I was entrusted with the school’s official camera—an honor I took seriously until my roommate decided otherwise. One fateful night, the dorm was rocked by an event of legendary proportions: a student unleashed a bowel movement so massive it defied logic, rising above the toilet bowl like a grotesque monument. Its diameter rivaled a baseball, and it left the entire dormitory in stunned silence.

    Sensing an opportunity for journalistic immortality, my roommate stole the yearbook camera and captured the horrifying marvel in high resolution. When the teacher developed the film, I watched as she cycled through horror, disbelief, and finally, uncontrollable laughter. To make matters worse, she was the one teacher I had a major crush on. Some things, once seen, can never be unseen.

    Liked by 4 people

    Reply

  2. I will not be looking up that chart, as my poo is never normal and I don’t want to know what a chart all thinks is wrong with me. I do find it fascinating how some people I know who can watch a gory slasher flick or even a real open heart surgery will wretch and gag if you show them, or even just bring up the topic of poop. And that was before poop became socially acceptable thanks to that dumb emoji that never resembles my real poop…

    Liked by 4 people

    Reply

  3. You’re in good company here. Other authors have covered this same subject, including Jonathan Swift. Anyway a guy I know was helping his wife shop for clothes. He stepped into the loo and came running out a few minutes later. He told her, “We have to go to the hospital! I’m bleeding internally!” He’s a hypochondriac so his wife just said “That can wait. What do you think of this dress?” They did eventually go to the doctor. He was suffering the after effects of eating red cabbage the night before. Still it’s good to check. Colon cancer is no joke.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  4. Wow — there seems to be a weird theme emerging today. I literally just got back from walking the dog and commented to my wife that the grassy curb along West 237th Street is littered end-to-end with dog turds! Then I jumped on the Internet and this was the first thing I see. I have no idea whether or not Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow this morning, but I’m willing to bet Phil merely came out of his hole in the ground, sh*t on the dais, then crawled back underground for six more weeks of hibernation!

    Liked by 3 people

    Reply

          • I am just reeling. Here’s hoping my Canadian immigration plan works out. Both my former master’s and my current one are reliant on funding either directly or indirectly. I’m having a hard time of things; I both know I should avoid the news, but I also need to be in the know about what is going on, so I can plan for my future.

            The most ironic things are all the voters in rural /agricultural communities who didn’t realize how Trump’s actions would impact them. I’m like “How could you not know?” I mean, politics is my weak area, and I even saw the writing on the wall.

            Check out this article ( Farmers feeling weight of Trump policies with shutdown of aid | PBS News)with Nick Levendofsky who’s the head of the Kansas Farmers Union, where he says (as quoted from the PBS article):

            “But they wrote it all down in Project 2025. I guess we should have paid a little closer attention to what was in that. I read the agriculture section. I know it better than I probably should. But it was there. It was all in writing. We probably should have paid closer attention to it.”

            Gee, ya think?

            I’m reminded of that statement Dr. Henry Jones, Sr. makes in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.

            Like

Leave a comment