> From: "Dr James"
> To: Snapper
> Subject: SNAPPER! the truth about DAVE from POOPREPORT
> Date: Fri, 19 Sep 2003 18:25:00 +1000
>
> Dear Poopreporter.
>
> You should know that DAVE from poopreport is a fraud.
>
> If you were to go here:
> http://poopreport.com/Stories/index.html
>
> You would find plenty of stories about poop. What you should know
> about these stories, is that they have been altered. Dave has
> altered them, to make them more funny. He has added things, and
> taken things out, and in some cases, almost changed the story
> completely, all to make it a bit more funny.
> Now, as far as I am concerned, theres nothing wrong with this,
> however, many people seem to think that the stories should be told
> AS IT HAPPENED, and should not be exagerated. This makes the story
> unreal, and when you are reading a story like this, one of the
> things that makes it so funy, is knowing that it actually happened,
> but now, not knowing what is true and what was added in just to make
> it funnier, well.....I suppose now you have to admite that what you
> are reading may be fiction rather than fact.
> The thing is, DACE is very secretive about this. When I posted this
> fact on his forum, there was a sudden IP placed on the network I
> use.
> I use a public computer, at my UNiversity Campus.
> This particular network is used on every University and TAFE campus
> in the STATE! there is approximately 100,000 people who now can not
> access the poop report site. Dave knows this, and as far as he is
> concerned, it is a small price to pay to keep me silent.
>
> So I have resorted to this. Emailing you all personally, to prove
> that DAve can not silence me.
> It is entirely up to you wheather you wish to care wheather or not
> he changes the stories. Some of you may not care in the slightest,
> but some of you may be disapointed to know that what you thought was
> truth, is actually fiction.
> DAve is certainly embarased by it.
>
> You may be wondering, how do I know all this?
> I know because I sent him a story myself.
> When I read it after he had added his little alterations, I kept
> silent. I thought..."oh, wink wink..nudge nudge..itll be our little
> secret"
> But then Dave couldnt handle it when I began to tell everyone, so he
> baned me.
> I had previously critisized him over something, and immediately he
> put a TEMPORARY ban on me, and said I had been banned for two weeks.
> I emailed him, appologising and telling him that I had learned my
> lesson, and that it was fair.
> Two weeks passed, then thee, then four.
> Finally, when I asked him why I still wasnt allowed back..he
> repplied
> "I guess I lied."
>
> Well Isnt that convinient. Thats when I logged on under a false
> name. He emailed me telling me that he knew what i was doing, and
> that as long as I behaved myself, it was okay.
>
> But then I made that post on the forum about how he changed the
> stories..and over night, there was a ban placed on the IP I was
> using.
>
> I admit, that the stories on Poop Repot.WERE funny, that is until I
> found out they were grossly exagerated.
>
> I sent him a story. He eddited it. I was silent, and when I spoke
> out, i was silenced.
> If you care to read my story, here it is. Through out it, I will
> tell you where it was changed:
> :
>
> Here is the story as it apears on the site:
>
>
>
>
>
>
>
> Enema at the Gates
> Posted 1.7.02003 by Dr. James
>
> One day about a year ago, I was at the shopping center with Mum. We
> were just about to leave when I needed to take a dump. I could feel
> in my stomach that this was going to be one of those long painful
> dumps -- the ones where you crap, wipe, and think you're finished,
> but just as you're about to put your pants back on, realize that
> there's more to come... you know what I'm talking about.
> [this entire sentence was added in by dave..I never said any of
> that.]
> My mum is a cranky and impatient nagger of a woman, and told me that
> I had better be quick.
>
> I went to the toilet and pushed hard, but I just couldn't do it -- I
> had some weird case of performance anxiety. The more I looked at my
> watch and pictured my mum outside in a furious rage, wondering what
> was taking me so long, the more constipated I seemed to become. I
> tried several anti-constipation techniques, but nothing seemed to
> work.
>
> After twenty minutes, I just couldn't stand the pressure. All I
> could think about was my big fat angry mum yelling her head off:
> "What the hell have you been doing in there? What took you so
> long?!"
>
> Of course, I couldn't just tell her that I was constipated, because
> then she'd nag on and on and bloody on about it: telling me how I
> wasn't eating right, constantly asking me every five minutes for the
> next ten years if I was constipated... so I just walked out,
> silently faced the nagging bugger and went home.
>
> Mum dropped me off at home and drove off somewhere else. I was in
> desperate need to rid my bowels of this brown bastard bunging my
> hole.
>
> My old man told me once how he used to give his greyhound dogs
> enemas to clean them out and make them lighter before they raced. He
> told me he'd just stick a hose up their bum, gently pour in a bit of
> water, and then a few minutes later they would dump all over the
> place.
>
> When I asked more about this practice (I'd never really known what
> an enema was before I heard this), he told me that once in hospital
> he had been given an enema. He had to hold it in for a few long
> hours, after which he let it all gush out in a torrential flood of
> relief.
>
> Well, I thought I'd try this technique on myself.
>
> I couldn't exactly stand out in my front yard jamming the garden
> hose up my arse, so I let the hose in through the bathroom window,
> placing it in the bath as I went outside and turned it on. Then I
> went back into the bathroom. I grabbed the hose and folded it over,
> clamping it so the water stopped running. Then I bent over.
>
> For you non-Australians, a quick lesson: we call the room with the
> bath and the shower "the bathroom." The room with the toilet is
> called "the toilet." Some houses have the toilet in the bathroom,
> but most don't. In America, the urge to poop begets the phrase, "I
> need to go to the bathroom." If you said that here, we'd wonder why
> you suddenly have this intense need to go wash your hair.
>
> I looked over at my puckered ring in the bathroom mirror. So small.
> How was I going to fit the end of a hose up in there? But I knew I'd
> produced some enormous craps before... one's hole is nothing if not
> accommodating.
>
> [This whole paragraph was Daves work. I never said any of that]
>
> With a bit of effort and a lot of Vaseline, I managed (quite
> uncomfortably) to fit the nozzle into my anus. I slowly released the
> clamp. There's no weirder feeling than filling one's ass like a
> water balloon.
>
> Great. I had gotten this far. I had an ass full of water. Now all I
> had to do was wait a while, then go to the toilet in the basement
> and poop it all out. Right?
>
>
> [I dont have a basement Dave!]
>
> Wrong. As soon as I pulled out the hose, a wave of brown water shot
> from my ass. Thankfully, it was aimed over the bathtub... no big
> deal. I'd just go to the toilet now straight away.
>
> Then I turned and looked into the tub, and at the wet sloppy hunks
> of feces floating in it.
>
> But first things first. I bolted (carefully, so as not to leak any
> shit onto the carpet) down to the toilet. More chunky poo juice came
> gushing and spurting.
>
> [that last sentence was Daves work]
>
> After I was done, I walked back towards the bathroom to clean up the
> disgusting mess in the tub. Except -- there, standing right there,
> there was Wilson, the man who boarded in our house. Wilson, who had
> come home early from work. Wilson, who had been in the house for God
> knows how long. Wilson, who was wearing a towel.
>
> [that last sentence was not in my story at all. It doesnt seem like
> much, but that one statement alteres the WHOLE story dramatically.
> Ill talk more about htis at the bottom of the page]
>
> He said hello to me. I froze.
>
> Had he just been in the bathroom? Had he seen the bathtub full of
> buttleak?
>
> [I have never used the word butleak]
>
> Our encounter pretty much ended at that, but I was paranoid about it
> for months. Every conversation we had, I could hear his thoughts: "I
> came home from work early, went to the bathroom to wash my hands (or
> whatever) and found the bath full of crap! What a disgusting little
> creature this boy is!"
>
> [got you there dave! I said that he had come home to wash his hands
> or whatever, but you thought that that wasnt god enough! You added
> in the bit about wearing a towel, just to put an added image in the
> readers mind. In actual fact, he probably didnt go in the bathroom
> at all!]

Well it appears that here I actually owe Dr. James an apology. As many of you know, I edit for diction, grammer and flow -- not every story comes in written as well as one from Mastercrapper or The Big Wiper. In Dr. James' case, as anyone familiar with his previous writing knows, grammer isn't exactly his strong point. He sent me a funny story; but I couldn't put it up as he sent it because it was, well, unreadable. I thought I'd be doing the kid a favor by helping him out with his writing.

From his original:

After I was done, I walked back towards the bathroom to clean up the disgusting mess in the bath. On my way back in, just wearing a towel, Wilson, the man who Bordered in our house had just unexpectedly come home early from work, and had been in the house for god knows how long?

You can see how I'd think Wilson was wearing a towel. Subject/verb/predicate and that whole thing. Sorry about that, Doc.