Exceeding sad, my doggin friend,
That loaves pass roughly out your end.
To sleep, alas...perchance to dream
Of launching logs without a scream.
A pleasure to you oft denied;
Tormented starfish feels pan-fried.
Would that your IBS relent...
Is the smooth slider heaven sent?

"You know, Doc; in Arkansas we'd now be officially married."
I said that to the colon diver during the one procedure I was conscious for (he chuckled a bit).

Bombs Away!! (I'm gonna stretch a little with this one...)

On a topic a bit more contextual
I've had thoughts, shall we say, intellectual.
Bob's face got a dung smear,
but it's not really clear:
do shit facials mean you're metrosexual?

pd: I'm sure the guys who pulled him out will remember him...

Ol' Bob Shoff made the firefighters' day.
Shit spelunking, his face led the way.
For the local FD,
it was something to see;
"This guy's TANKED" was all they had to say.

Bob Schoff made a fateful decision;
walked into the snow with a vision.
Head-first in the shit tank...
no equal to that stank;
Bob quickly regretted his mission.

And...one with the given first line:

There once was an Iowan named Shoff;
Slipped and fell, with the shit-tank lid off.
You can't sniff out a clog
with your head in the bog.
All you'll find is last night's Rice Pilaf.

Daphne, I don't know why I'm telling you this, but I'm right handed.

Damn, G3 - 2500? Congratulations! I thought it was a big deal when I broke 200 this week...yeah, right.

Would that pooetry could reduce
The Shameful's angst when they produce;
But ne'er a word can we proclaim,
To free them from their world of Shame.
In single combat, THEY must find
A way to unleash their behind...
To dump with joy, with no regret
To stride with pride into the can.
And to greet all - "hail fellow, well met"
Enjoy cool seats...the soothing fan.
And when they're done, the sweet relief...
The freedom of Shameless belief.

Harry: don't exercise yourself trying to apply rational thought processes to this whole situation - your head will explode.

A couple of weeks ago, I passed something that felt like a chunk of stucco, and it did some damage on the way out. Not only did it hurt then, but for the next few days every pinch reaggravated the problem. I don't know if it was a stretch or a little tear or what, but it took about a week to fade away. A week and a couple doses of Miralax to ease the extrusion process.

Of course they do, Sam. The vomitory and/or excremental imperative knows nothing of gentility. The problem with sink-horking is the chunk blockage caused by the drain plug. After a "gentleman" yaks in the sink, he will thoughtfully clear the solids by hand.

Unfortunately, the makers of alli are catering to a pervasive societal bias that cannot be denied - "there's a pill for every problem." Is your 8 year old actually behaving like an 8 year old: short attention span, excessive energy, defiant? That whole parental discipline thing is just SO tiresome and who has the time, anyway? Let's just get him diagnosed with ADHD and start feeding him Ritalin. Your wife's a bitch; the boss is a douche? Prozac, my man, Prozac. By mentioning exercise and healthy diet as good adjuncts to using alli, the manufacturer is potentially setting the stage for a positive outcome: by the time consumers of alli get tired of shitting oil 10 times a day, maybe they will have realized that exercise makes you feel good. A healthy diet makes you feel better. Gee, maybe I don't need the pills at all.

DungDaddy's approach is the best - go on the offensive. If it seems like someone is taking a bit too much interest in what you're doing in the stall, turn your dump into an improvised piece of performance art. Grunt and moan like you're giving birth; ask them if it stinks as bad out there as it does from where you're sitting; say something totally strange like "damn, I KNEW I should'a brought that screwdriver in here with me..." Use your imagination.

"I'm glad this week is over." Come on people, suck it up!! Anyone who has plowed through this week's worth of bowl-splatter must have come away with a greater appreciation of Dave's editorial efforts. I can see him now, with elbow-length surgical gloves, kneading his way through his in-box; discarding all of these pieces of corn in search of the yellow diamonds that make it to the homepage. Granted, some of the stones are of higher quality than others, but after reading this drek all week I'll be a little less likely to lame a "real" story. Kind of makes me wonder - what's the corn-to-gem ratio, Dave? And, do you ever need to plunge your mailbox?

"Let us...contemplate the delicacy of a society." Okay: here's what my analysis leads me to conclude. Modern "society" is a very thin veneer, a shiny wrapper that allows us to contemplate our higher nature and stave off chaos while we congratulate ourselves for our sophistication and technological advancement. Kick away any of the supports that help to maintain that facade (food, water, sanitation, electricity), and we quickly see a drastically different picture.
We see 2-year-olds drowning in shit lagoons. We see thousands of people trapped in the Superdome after Katrina without any of those four essentials, wondering how they'll survive. What's one of the prime concerns when a power outage strikes a major city? Panic and lawlessness among the residents. A thin veneer, indeed.
Forget about oil, folks: before the 21st century is over, I think we'll see wars fought over access to fresh water.