In sociology, if there is a perceived phenomenon going down, and you wish to document it, what do you do? You look for a pattern, theorize, and then go off and try to prove it.

One of the tenets of this website is, "we all poop, so why not indulge in..." This is true, we all poop -- we'd better, or else we'd either explode, or become extremely toxic.

Well, I am here to report on people who indeed have lack of turds.

I am one of those fellows, mid 30's, forgettable in a crowd as far as biometric specs, and no major health problems, no need to take any meds, and I do try to avoid intake of total junk. There are always exceptions, like pizza binges, summer frozen drink fests, etc. But these are scattered and do not influence what I will now discuss.

All you poopaphiles, reading this, through stories, forums, sent articles, and commentary on same, all seem to have one thing in common: turds. Be it man, woman, black, white, Asian, ages 18-92. Yeah, turds.

Now, here it comes: I, and others like me, never poop those glorious art objects.

I have never achieved a bowl buster.

People I know, through research, have never done the major clogger-upper. Oh, believe me, after reading many, many stories, and subsequent to that, compiling many reports from individuals like myself for this little treatise, I find that there is a segment of the population who will never need a laxative, who can only read and fantasize about ten-inch fantasmagorias of poop.

Oh, how I long to destroy a toilet like Al Bundy of "Married with Children" did at least ten times! To wrap up a major dump, destined for someone's mailbox. To throw, with gloved hands, huge accomplishments, at the kids that invade my property.

After reading the archived story about sending a poop down a spiral staircase, and another down a laundry chute, I felt something tear inside.

To quote a popular song from a few years back, "why not me?"

All we get are semisolids, like moundable mashed potatoes. Three of my sampling described theirs as "pudding, thick mud, and foul cake icing." I even found added corroboration clandestinely, with my own ears:

Both my sig/other, and a dinner guest, at least five times in a row, different nights, gave up a volley that sounded like a cross between Waterworld and the bathroom scene from Dumb and Dumber.

Just like me.

All the time.

I have tried varying the amount of spicy foods -- nothing. Thinking "allergens," I tried giving up, for a week or two, different food groups to isolate the "hershey effect:" dairy, red meats, even coffee/tea -- again, nada.

It seems that I, and those like me, are doomed to walk the earth, squooshing and squirting, never to know the chunky antics posted here.

Oh, for some, uh... solidarity and solidity. I tried taking KaoPectate, and at least was presented with little marbles, bullets and thumb-shaped things.

That was a start.

48 hours later -- it was as if I'd drank prune juice nocturnally.

Damn.

I've tried Metamusal. I mean, I've actually measured 12 times the recommended. Hmmm, orange flavor!

What do I get?

I get volume, I get speedy evacuation, ooo projectile slurry!

But no meaty, beaty, big and bouncy. (Hmmm, who's that from ...? OOPS! Sorry, Mr. Entwistle.)

One person I sampled is a vegetarian. She eats more bulk roughage in a week than I could in a year. Didn't help.

"Just call me a regular woman."

Another guy, huge Arab dude, with the capacity of a supertanker, eats gigundous amounts of a rather tasty green (unripe) wheat known as Freekeh, or free-ka. He was trying for months to achieve turd-dom.

One night, at a Lebanese all-you-could-eat bash, he put away enough for four men. We came back to my place for some web action on the computer, and then -- IT HIT!

We're talking bombardment here.

No, not subtle.

He ran, like my nephew after a Britney ticket, and palop-lop-lop-lop. The explosive exit could not have been muffled by five cubic feet of cotton. Turns out, the tabouleh didn't solve the problem either.

So, without some Star-Trek futuristic intervention for modifying mein colon, I guess that yours truly must carry on along with all the rest -- soft and loveable, bowl busters unknown.

-- Hershey-Squirts