So yer gettin' a little older. Yer startin' to notice things goin' south lately - you hair migrating from the top center of your head to your eyebrows, ears, nostril hairs, back and so on. Your ability to do what you did when you were full of piss and vinegar has subsided. You hurt after an unexpected exertion. You find yourself bitching about how your ol' bod don't work like it used to - back in the day. You are becoming your parents.
Even in the can, man. Ya sit down with the expectation that you'll pop out a long, smooth turd. You can feel it built up inside ya - you know it's there, and it's been bitching at you to get out. Well, ya relax and nothing happens. OK, so ya hit the throttle a little more. Nada. Mmmkay.
Now you get serious and really try to grunt that pesky load out. The mountain starts to move, but slowly. Your inner Scotty is hollering at you - "I canna give ya anymore, Cap'n, she's blown the main circuits already, and the energizer is bypassed like a Christmas tree!" By maintaining the pressure, the load ever so slowly eases out.
But not all the way. No, you weren't so lucky.
Why are turds tapered at the ends?Ya managed to groan out most of the expulsion, but you left the taper abandoned in your asshole, and your intestinal fortitude isn't gonna shove it out. So, you do what you have to. Armed with wads of bunghole fodder, you bravely go where no man has gone before to dig it out. After you've used enough to plug the sewer, you are finally done. So, ya get ready to join polite society again, but when you are rising from the throne, the last little bit you missed makes it's presence known to you. More bunghole fodder and your mission is accomplished.
So your asshole doesn't slam shut.
Then there comes the time that you really had to strain. Scotty - not happy at all. In fact, you see some red swirls wafting around the bowl, and the asswipe is bloody, too. You've ruptured something inside ya, champ, and your shit is gonna get interesting now. What was once fairly solid and brown goes to a foul smelling tar that gradually gets darker and almost black. Proctor and Gamble reports a sudden increase in profits due to increased buttwipe sales, cuz it takes some serious and repeated wipings to get that shit outta there.
If you are lucky, the black works it's way back to a more familiar brown. If not, surgery may be required to stitch up what you ripped apart. I was fortunate. I dropped my daily aspirin and my Plavix so the ol' blood wasn't as thin, and about five days later, things were mostly back to normal. By the time I could get to see my doctor, I wuz healed, thank you Jesus. I knew that if I went to the emergency room, they'd have told me to do what I did, and my doctor confirmed that was true. If I'd have kept bleeding, they'd have scoped me to find the tear (hemorrhoid) and repaired it.
So, he gave me the "Now that you're getting older" speech about digestion. Strongly recommended more fiber in the form of Metamucil. That's when I quipped about the AARP ( considering their politics, I'd about rather join PETA - at least they've got nekkid chicks). He didn't get it. Oh well.
He also told me the generic stuff was equally good, and he really recommended the capsules or pills for me - easier to carry and consume on the road rather than mixing it up in a drink. So, it was Equate brand for this fat boy.
Now, I'm not laying out Turds of Contest Winning Lengths or anything. In fact, it seems like I get the green apple trots more frequently. Frankly, this beats the shit outta the shit I was shitting before, though.
Before the Massive Bloody Shits hit, I happened to talk about the Launching the Load and Leaving the Tapered End in the Asshole problems with my neighbor. He's a couple years older than me, and we like to bitch about the aches and pains and whatnot we're having to get used to as we age. And we think it's funny as hell that we're sounding like a couple of old men bitching about their pissing and crapping sitting at the community center playing cards.
So, I told him about the fiber capsule thing. I happened to see him the other day, and he reported that his wife bought him some fiber supplements and that things were working far more smoothly for him as well. And we laughed. Cuz we've still got the same appreciation for farts and such that we had as little kids. Fine art, as it were.
I may not cure the common cold, or find a cheap alternate energy to save the world, but By God I can help you shit better, if you'll only listen to me, dammit!