DungDaddy: normally I'd be just as much a stickler as you. However, if you carefully read the original post, you'll note that *Logjam* was the one who proposed this contest -- and that he is among those who tossed the rules out the window. Since he who makes the rules has the power to negate the rules, I do hereby declare, as is my authority in Section 2 Verse 2 of the PoopReport Constitution, in keeping with the spirit of PoopReport Congressional Resolution TP UP2, that the finalists for this contest shall remain as chosen.

Deja Poo: Awesome comment. You're right. The subject is clearly waiting for something with mild impatience. "Fine, I'll sit here while you paint my picture. THEN will you give me the toilet paper?"

Here's the problem with laxatives (and enemas, I suppose): you can get addicted.

The muscles that push poop through your stomach are called peristaltic muscles. Like every other muscle in your body, they need to be exercised, or else they grow week. When you take a laxative, you are taking the job away from your muscles. The more laxatives you take, the less of a workout your muscles get, and the weaker they become -- which, of course, makes you turn to even more laxatives.

It's a vicious circle. And it sounds like you've gone around the circle a few too many times -- your muscles are so atrophied that not even enemas work.

What can you do? For one, you need to get a doctor to recognize the problem for what it really is. Beyond that, I don't know if there are any techniques for peristaltic muscle rehab. My friend, I'm sorry to say, but you may have a colostomy bag in your future.

Doniker, I'll be honest: I minus'd your comment not because I thought it was bad, but mostly because I'd never seen a -4 before.

Congratulations to Teddy for contrasting one of the best stories we've had in years with one of the creepiest comments I've ever seen.

I'll be the first to say it:

With friends like these, who needs enemas?

"Come on. How was your date?"

"Oh, the date. The date."

"Yeah, how was it?"

"Interesting."

"Really."

"Oh ya."

"Why, what happened?"

"Let's see .. how shall I put this."

"Just put it."

"She pushed it out."

"She what?"

"She pushed ... it out."

"She pushed WHAT out?"

"It."

"She pushed it out?"

"Yessiree Bob."

"She couldn't."

"She did."

"Well you were involved in some sort of sanitary..."

"Noooo."

"You mean she just..."

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Oh, quite."

"There was no mistaking it?"

"Jerry."

"So you were talking, you're having pleasant conversation, and then all of sudden..."

"Yea."

"It."

"It."

"Out."

"Out."

I just +1'd AB2K's comment. Not because I agree with it, but because I'm corrupt and biased and I +1 everything she writes no matter what it says. TSV, also.

Ah, it's so good to be part of a cabal! A cartel! A confederacy! We ARE the SHITERATTI!

AB2K, "pupt" is actually a highly technical scientific term relating to the "chemical transformation of organic matter into transsubstantial molecules." I actually had to get a graduate degree in chemical engineering to understand it. But for the sake of clarity -- and ONLY for the sake of clarity -- I'll change it to "put."

I don't doubt that this is true. (Of course, I never doubt that anything I publish is true.) Since Motherload is away for a few weeks, I will try my hand at playing doctor.

My rudimentary understanding of poop suggests that the urge to poop comes from the stimulation of nerves in the rectum by the gathering poop. The more pressure your poop is putting on your rectum, the more your rectum signals the need to go. Presumably poop pressure works like water pressure -- there's more pressure at the bottom of the bucket than at the top. So there's more pressure at the bottom of the rectum than the top.

However, TPT screwed himself because his body grew used to responding to sudden intense pressure at the bottom of the poop chute. In other words, it associated a certain stimulus with certain action. So the old way (the gradual accumulation of poop) doesn't trigger the need because the body is waiting for the new way (the sudden intense pressure of a wad of TP given the bum's rush).

So how do you wean yourself? My guess -- and God knows I'm not qualified to give medical advice -- is to reintroduce the old stimulus, but in a drastic way. Eat a lot of fiber, take a lot of Metamucil -- that will give you nice, bulky stools. And then just hold it in until you really, really need to go. And repeat. Over and over. Train your body to recognize the urge to shit really big logs that gather slowly, instead of the sudden pressure of insertion, and show your body that you're only going to respond to actual urges and not artificial two-ply ones.

Again, though, my disclaimer: what the hell do I know?

I think you're about to find out.

Let it be perfectly clear: flattery gets you everywhere.

All Poopreporters but Double Flush are allowed on the cover.

By the way -- the unsupportive boyfriend who squealed like a girl? Me.

Now I'm an unsupportive husband who squeals like a girl.

He got shit on his pillow, because he was scratching the itchy shit spots on his legs, while he was sleeping. The shit was thus transferred to his pillow.

I learned Monday night that I scratch my balls when I sleep. Monday evening, before going to bed, I made ceviche -- which involved chopping up habanero peppers. I thought I had washed my hands adequately before going to bed -- until about three AM, when I was woken up by intense burning pain in my nards. I had to soak them for fifteen minutes in vinegar for the burning to go away.

Lesson learned: always use gloves when touching habaneros.

Poop is funny.

Oh, please.

D'oh!

Bunga, reading your post reminded me of Vizzini's speech to the man in black in The Princess Bride when he tries to deduce which chalice has been poisoned.

Bunga: "You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? You've beaten my giant, which means you're exceptionally strong, so you could've put the toilet seat down in your own picture, trusting on your strength to save you, so I can clearly not choose the toilet in front of you. But, you've also bested my Spaniard, which means you must have studied, and in studying you must have learned that man is mortal, so you would have put the toilet as far from yourself as possible, so I can clearly not choose the wine in front of me."

Dave: "You're trying to trick me into giving away something. It won't work."

bunga: "IT HAS WORKED! YOU'VE GIVEN EVERYTHING AWAY! I KNOW WHERE THE TOILET IS!"

Sometime soon, our heroic founder, Dave, will gain his 10,000th userpoint!

Well, if history is any teacher, I'll probably find some pretext to recalculate the userpoints and bump myself up to 12,000 or so. My ego is *that* fragile.

KOC: Recognition comes to those who deserve it. Not those who ask for it.

According to Margaret Morgan, you're dealing with some serious, serious repression:

"The toilet functions as omphalos, that non-place we refuse to acknowledge, lest we recall that which is 'best left alone'. It is the site of nervous laughter, loathing, fascination. A marker of the repressed, it recurs again and again in the narratives of the twentieth century: from the annals of art history to modernist architecture to the most quotidian aspects of contemporary mass culture."

"The drain returns to us its blank eye, half reminding us of that which we would rather forget."

"This then is part of the horror of the blocked toilet, the overflow of which threatens to engulf the mesmerized subject who, having just flushed the toilet, can only stand there dumbfounded, watching as the excrement against which he defines himself comes back to stick to his person, ankle deep in symbolic as much as actual shit."

I found a recording of Bolero and listened to it as I was editing this story. It made the story quite visceral. The recording is here.

To throw in my two cents as the creator of this site: as AB2K said, this site is about the intellectual appreciation of poop humor. If there is a mandate on what is or is not allowed, it's because humor and intellectual thought are my focus. I'm quite simply not interested in pooping from a sexual point of view, period. There are plenty of sites that discuss sex and poop; I want this to be a site that discusses the non-sexual aspects. Simple as that.

I don't deny that your point of view exists; however, it is not my point of view, and it's my site. Call it censorship if you want; I call it keeping the community focused on the issues I'm interested in exploring.

However, EFRO, I do appreciate that you can discuss this civilly. This can be an interesting conversation if we all stay mature about it. Flames from you and from other PoopReporters will, as always, not be tolerated.

One thing that bothers me about this new system is that it says "you can't post comments" under every single post. It's a bit annoying. Anyway to fix it?

I didn't know that that was happening. We'll get rid of that today.

I really hope that this will just be one of those *ooh, I got a +1 point! yay for my e-ego!*

I think that mods will punish very quickly any posts like that. And should annoying posts get out of hand, we'll institute a system in which lame posts are automatically hidden.

Back when the ability to comment on stories was first added to the site, I pledged only to delete comments in the most extreme cases -- and, in the interest of full disclosure, document every deleted comment so no one would question my commitment to free speech. Ah, my youthful idealism... that was before spammers and trolls and perverts truly discovered this site, and deleted comments were few and far between.

I kept the archive for a year. In that time very few comments were deleted. The reason isn't because it was PoopReport's Golden Age Of Libretarianism, but rather because I didn't have access to the comments database, and I had to bug my systems guy (his name was Areth -- this is pre-Jaybowel days!) every time I wanted something deleted. That's why you'll see a lot of comments dated 2001-2002 that would never pass muster today.

Anyway, here is that inglorious and shortlived archive of perversion:
http://www.poopreport.com/deleted.html. Enjoy!

Not that we're going to get in to this again -- we're NOT -- but the rules of speech on PoopReport are quite simple: disruptive speech will not be tolerated. Flames are disruptive. Racist/sexist/homophobic statements are disruptive. Fetishist posts are disrupive. And annoying illiterate posts are disruptive.

I and the other moderators make decisions not on our politics (which are varied and diverse; and, yes, does include the right wing) but on what will or will not disrupt the community.

Don't like it? As Logjam said: feel free to start your own site. It isn't hard. If you're right, all the users on this site will flock to yours and I'll be left homeless and destitute, crying on the side of the road and wishing I hadn't been such a pansy liberal.

In researching my book, Logjam, I've come across a cache of ancient scrolls found deep within the bowels of the New York Public Library. These are the infamous Books Of Bog -- long rumored to be lost with the ark of the covenant, it was these scrolls for which Hitler wanted to conquer the world. Among these scrolls are magical cures for constipation, diarrhea, cramps, farts, and incontinence. Also among these scrolls are curses: constipation, diarrhea, cramps, farts, and incontinence. Logjam, I'm reading one of these scrolls right now in your name. Come back on Monday and tell us which one! I think we'll all get a good laugh.

PoopReporter Of The Year 2005: The Official Results

Picture this: you are in the vast Poonurse Memorial Auditorium in the heart of the bucolic, ivy-lined campus of PoopReport University. Around you are thousands of others, each one sitting in custom-designed white leather seats evoking a vague throne-like shape. The front of the auditorium is Poostmodern Gehry-meets-Kohler, a brushed white metal parabola that fools the eye into thinking the action on the stage is taking place bowl filled with water. On stage sits dignitary after dignitary, each one a graduate of this august institution: Sofia Lower-end. Bea M. Arthur. Two-plop Shakur. Abraham Lincolon. Dribble Sheppard. Kirby Fudgepucket. Anal Greenspan. Cottonella Fitzgerald. Janet Beano. Fartin Pooter King, Jr. Diarrhea Perlman. Enema Thompson. Cornholeeza Rice. George W. Bowoosh. Phew Grant. Sylvester Stall One. Mary, Queen of Scott. Maya Ontheloo. Doniker Lewinsky. Tom Brokeoff. Michael Dookakis. Dook Ellington. Conan O'Brown. And of course Engelsquirt Dumperstink.

But all eyes are on the center of the room where, on a raised dais of built of life-sized oak Lincoln Logs, are perched on their own solid gold Ferguson PoopReport's own Pill Pooper and Daphne -- PoopReport.com's co-PoopReporters of the Year, celebrating the first time such an honor is shared, and the first time one of the honorees is a PoopReporterette.

The speeches lauding their accomplishments have already been given (see wayyyyyy up on this page). Dressed in a brown tuxedo made of the finest crushed brown velvet, accompanied by his beautiful wife wearing a shimmering brown gown sewn from brown gold thread spun on a loom of brown diamonds, Dave walks forward. Without further ado, he presents the award: the intensely coveted (and poorly Photoshopped) Poolitzer Prize:

No words from Dave are necessary. The hall falls silent. We wait with bait breath for Daphne and Pill Pooper to speak. And when they're done, we congratulate them with every fiber of our beings: for we have two new Poolitzer prizewinners, and our site -- and the world -- is one step closer to Pootopia because of them.

Or just smell it, as per the subject of this article.

Please resist the urge to make this site like every other site and focus on what's important.

(Hint: not the politics.)

"God Bless The U.S.A.!" "etc re: foreign food"

I want to make a point about "foreign food." Already on this story, and on Pill Pooper's sushi story the other day, people blame "foreign food" for their gastronomic woes. But this is not accurate. It's not that Japanese or Filipino or Mexican or any other food necessarily contain magical diarrhea-inducing ingredients. Rather, the squirts come from the fact that our stomachs are fairly narrow-minded creatures of habit. They don't respond well to new things.

Our stomachs strive to be in equilibrium with our diet. As you know, digestion is aided by millions of symbiotic bacteria working in partnership with your digestive organs. The different species living in different locations along your digestive tract thrive or struggle based on the nutrients they're receiving. A high-fat diet causes growth in the colonies of bacteria that thrive on fat; a low-fat diet causes the opposite. Your digestive system regulates the bacteria and the chemicals it secretes very well when it is familiar with what it is processing.

But unfamiliar foods throw things out of whack. Your stomach overreacts to things it's not familiar with, secreting chemicals in unusual quantities while various bacteria thrive or die off in ways your system is not accustomed to. The result of this is usually diarrhea -- which is your stomach's way of clearing out something it thinks might be dangerous to your system.

The point is: foreign food is not to blame. Foods that are foreign TO YOU are. Someone raised on hamburgers and hot dogs will get the shits the first time they eat Indian food; but if they eat it regularly their stomach will learn to recognize it and process it without issue. Similarly sushi -- the first time I ate it I shat like a fire hose; but I kept on eating it and now it causes no problem.

So don't blame foreign foods for frequently flowing feces. It's not the food's fault -- it is simply your body's reaction to unfamiliar food. A few more regular meals of fish or dog, and you won't have any problems (assuming the fish and dog are unspoiled and uncontaminated -- old fish and bad dog are something else entirely).

I recently read a very informative article on children unable to control their pants pooping. It's written by a child psychologist who explores why kids would do this and strategies for getting them to change their ways.

It's called: "Memoirs of a "Poop Lady". It appearead in the journal "Families, Systems & Health" in March, 2003. The author is Angela Riccelli. You can find it at the library for free, or online here for $9.95. For anyone who has kids with this problem, I think this is a very good source -- it should really help you define the problem and know what to look for in a solution.

Hope that helps!

Forums posts will one day count, but not any time soon.

And yeah, don't be tempted to just post crappy comments to build your post count... we will see them and delete them and hate you for it.

And that, PoopReporters, is the 25,000th comment published on PoopReport.

For those keeping score at home: in total, 28,705 comments have been posted. 3,705 of them have been deleted for being perverted, or moronic, or offensive, or incomprehensible, or otherwise offending my (sometimes arbitrary, I'll admit) standards.

So -- aside from those 3700 embarrasing instances -- the world is a better place thanks to what is today 25,000 nuggets of eternal brown wisdom. Can world peace be far behind?

Now that Jaybowel taught me how to run the appropriate SQL queries, I'm proud to say I can provide this information about who our most prolific posters are:

1468 -- The Shit Volcano

679 -- daphne

606 -- Doniker

454 -- Slim Jim Junkie

447 -- The Big Wiper

367 -- Dave

341 -- Tydirium

306 -- ThreePly

238 -- Di Uhreea

OK. The word "stupid" has officially been removed. As the editor, I thought you guys would see the sarcasm. My bad. I take full responsibility. The Swedish Ambassador has called me to offer his personal apologies on behalf of his country. Furthermore, he will be sending a box of his country's finest chocolates to all those who were offended... simply post your name, address, and social security number below.

So that crisis is over. Let's move on.

oh no? then why did you submit that anonymously?