Well, there we run into some possible entanglements with down-the-leg action, which I'm not a big fan of. Now, as I understand it, there's a strange correlation between being a liberal and enjoyment of shitting oneself, particularly in public. We'd have to ask Turdin how frequently he loads his drawers with gut-fudge to either substantiate or invalidate that rumor.
It takes a bit of training but with a little practice you too can have an ass-cannon firing out gut-fudge shells.
So I spent a solid half hour today looking at photos of dead people. Graphic photos of really, really dead dead people. Kind of in the mood for Italian food now. :yum:
I feel a really tremendous bowel movement coming on. I think it's going to be a milestone. If I had something with a camera right now, I'd take it into the shitter with me and turn this into a "television event." You'd tune in. You know you would. The ratings would be GLORIOUS.
I was right; that was a most satisfying defecation. There was only one thing that could have made it more enjoyable -- fresh reading material. I've got a copy of Stephen King's Joyland, and although that was fine for a one-and-done, it doesn't seem to have anything in the way of re-read value. So I could use some new hardcopy reading material.
On top of Old Smokey All covered with shit I gave my dear landlord An epileptic fit Shoved her down the mountain And laughed as she bounced Then watched in wide wonder As the catamount pounced I tossed it some children For such a good job And then as a bonus That tree painter guy Bob But kitty got a hairball From painter Bob's 'fro And that's what's in my suitcase Yo, don't tase me bro
What do ya do with a drunken sailor What do ya do with a drunken sailor What do ya do with a drunken sailor early in the-- Nothing! Leave him alone and put that fuckin' Sharpie back where you found it!
'Piss biscuits' is just a venting of nonsense. Like running into a high-end restaurant while wearing adult diapers and a rubber chicken as a hat, striking a Marvel Superhero pose and yelling, "Nnnnnnnnnnnnnnipples!!!" and then running back out. Randomness for the sake of randomness. Radical confusionism.
When I picture "Piss biscuits", I picture a guy staggering through a bathroom door with the sounds of a country & western bar following him mixed with the sounds of a game of pool. He makes his drunken way over to the urinal, unzips and stands there for a second waiting for business to get underway. After a moment, though, he groans, leans forward and presses one hand flat against the wall. The signs of his discomfort intensify. He begins to groan -- quietly, at first -- then more urgently. After a moment, his entire body goes rigid, and we hear, "Ugghhh... nnnnghhhh... nnnnnnnauuughhh! Aw, GAWD, WHAT IS THIS?! NAAAAAUUUUGGHHHH!!!" as a tube of uncooked, blood-streaked but wholesome, flaky dough begins to land on his sneakers, while high-pitched squeals of demoniac, Pillsbury-ish laughter echo in our ears...
