toilet humour
The Shit I Learnt From Reading on the Dunny This Week: A Story of Loose Vowels
What the mediums have been espousing
I’ve spent a lot of time on the crapper this week. Nothing bowel related — poop tube’s still runnin’ smooth — more due to the highly interesting patterns of vowels and consonants and bright LED light shining into my face. I’m not calling it an addiction. I’m nowhere near as obsessed as John Sandbach. That dude’s got problems:
It’s just a great way to be productive. Smillew Rahcuef is pretty productive, but even he spent hours and hours coming up with 100 things he would like to do before he gets too famous to hang out with us on medium:
I think he was meant to write it in less than 30 minutes? Little does he know, if he composed this on the toilet he would have been able to complete it in 27 minutes (that’s roughly the time it takes for my legs to go numb and I know I need to stand up to avoid falling over with my pants down).
The particulars of bowel motions are not normally something I like to describe in detail. What goes down the shithole stays in the shithole is a motto I live by. But if said bowel motions occur outside of the thunder mug, I say fair game. So does Laurel B. Miller, who describes the backdoor trots in spectacularly vivid fashion:
The runs are the last thing you need if you’ve got a job interview, but with Srini’s helpful advice on how to shoot the perfect profile pic, they’ll hire you mid-stream before you need to open your mouth orifice:
Now, if you’re at that stage in life where job interviews and faecal continence are no longer important, perhaps you would consider moving in with Victor Cardenas at his old people’s home for cashed-up cronies?
More type 1 than type 7? (That’s the Bristol stool chart for you poop noobs) Then try some of Karen L. Sullivan’s funky recipes full of fibre and festivity:
If you’re still straining to pop out those pellet’s, I suggest reading something angry to get your rectum fired up. Gunner Barrett is one furious dude, and here he wrote some shit about cannons and hammers and the pure violence of his deuce dropping:
You know what else is as evil as violence? Silence. One of my fave bands, Cog, wrote a song about it too. If you’re Australian and a bit old you may have heard of them. They were the first band I saw live and they made the earth shake and my mind rattle.
Annie Trevaskis isn’t all that violent (that I know of), but she hates silence too:
Still going? You must be mega constipated. Here is Rachel A Fefer, demonstrating the technique for manual evacuation (it’s a real thing and it will keep you regular):
If you are settling in for the long haul, I suggest some proper reading material. (Remember the days when we used to read actual printed paper on the stool pool?) Frank T Bird has written 2 books and you can buy them and read them on a screen just like this one. I’m helping him out because his marketing style is to bury his books under dried camel cock and hope people find them.
Alright, all done? What, you’re STILL GOING?!!
Ah, I know what the problem must be, you’ve forgotten how to crack open your crack. Luckily Ginger Cook knows how to open up for business. Check out this step-by-step instruction manual, which comes complete with a nude picture of Ginger¹ demonstrating the correct position for expelling even the chodiest of obstructions.
If that hasn’t emptied your colon contents I’m not sure what will.
¹I really should have led with that in the title for maximum clickbait, but I don’t roll like that.
