This article appeared in the 2007 edition of the annual Halloween joke issue. The content below was intended for entertainment and parody purposes only and is not true. Happy Halloween!
I'm currently signing in from the bathroom where I am pooping (don't worry, I'll put the computer down, wipe, wash my hands, dry them, then pick the computer up afterwards to avoid contamination). The fan is whirring right now and I'm staring at a keyboard with nothing to do but cogitate while my body acts without any conscious thought. I've evolved to fuck, shit, and eat, but it's odd that while I'm doing these basic things I have the ability to think. So here is some funny rambling without a purpose for your enjoyment and disgust.
Poop is a palindrome. On days when I'm in the mood, I'll only eat corn, lettuce, sesame seeds, and maybe a few nuts. Sometimes, after I take a shit and it's a little soft, I like to investigate. It's just sitting there, quietly rolling back and forth, cradled by the delicate shimmering ripples that lap against the ring of excrement that has congealed on the steep walls of the bowl. I have no tools, so I must craft one to continue my scientific inquiry. I'll roll up a piece of toilet paper so as it give it some strength and density. I then dip it in the water to give it some weight. Once my rolled paper tool is heavy enough with urine and toilet water, I can swat and prod at the loose turd and make it roll around in the water to reveal its nutty, corny, sesame seedy goodness. Occasionally, there are bits of lettuce. Poop is a palindrome — it goes in eventually inverts and comes out.
Poop is a palindrome. On days when I make a horrible mistake and forget what I'm doing with my life, I'll only eat grapes (red ones but occasionally green ones too) and drink massive amounts of orange juice (massive being roughly equal to a half gallon). To my chagrin, I find that what goes in as crushed up grapes and orange juice comes out as crushed up grapes and orange juice as well. For some reason, I think my digestive tract is magical. I put in orange juice and grapes, and my esophagus, stomach, intestines, and colon will magically transform it into a roughly cylindrical, compact, brown cigar, that slides out of me and into the calm waters like a majestic Olympic diver. I think wrong. It's like putting a rabbit in a hat and pulling out a mottled and bloodied rabbit carcass. Without grace or style, what leaves my ass hits the choppy seas like a trash bag ripped open and emptied of mixed up milk, orange juice, moist cheerios, and seaweed. Poop is a palindrome — what goes in eventually inverts and comes out.
I've finished moving my bowels so I have to put the computer down to wipe (I'm a folder and not a scruncher if you were wondering). I've just finished writing this crap out on the page (pun intended) and I can only wonder if what I've written has any value or validity. Did I just take in images, sounds, and other sensations, digest it, and then just crap it back out in the form of an article? Usually the only shits that I can remember are the ones that don't turn out to be as pleasant as I would hope (e.g. pad thai filled with hot chilis). Occasionally though, I'll eat a healthy, well-balanced diet and what comes in gets extruded like a well-packed sweet turkey sausage. You don't always have to eat corn or sesame seeds or lettuce. You can take in a sandwich and shit out something completely
different. Poop isn't always a palindrome. Sometimes it's poopie. So don't take in something that you'll just shit out backwards. Make some bears, or stools, or turds – not poop. Hopefully, what I have said has been both informative and educational with hints of poetry and notes of savory chocolate. You might not give a shit (pun intended again), but I just did.