When seventeen-year-old Vincent Medina was told by a Las Cruces, NM, Pic Quick convenience store clerk that he'd have to wait a few minutes to use the soon-to-be-opened store's restroom, the defiant teen responded by shattering the store's glass doors and forcing his way in. The clerk called the police and then hightailed it outside

while Medina
released his inner torment into Pic Quick's shit pit.
In a celebratory mood after his presumed offering to Sterculinus, the Roman god of manure, Medina purloined a bottle of Mad Dog 20/20 (euphemistically referred to as "wine" in the article, which is akin to calling a Slurpee cup a "Grecian urn") on his way out, thereby shifting his reverence to Bacchus, the Roman god of intoxication. Then our young atom-splitter instructed the clerk to call the police while he waited outside to enjoy the cold blood of the grape.
Medina was arrested shortly thereafter in a fitting homage to Delinqulus, the Roman god of juvenile detention facilities.
And so I ask you:
Is Vincent Medina a dangerous revolutionary ushering in a new age of pre-emptive turd terrorism? Does he represent an altogether new breed of turd terrorist: one whose assertive, single-minded pursuit of defecatory appeasement will let nothing -- be it locked doors, inflexible clerks, or posted convenience store hours -- come between him and his toilette?
Or is he merely a moronic crapscallion with an urgent need to ladle out piping-hot bowels full of cream of bathroom soup? To paraphrase Tone Loc: is he just a flunky called Medina?