Tuesday, November 11, 2008

Since I'm On The Subject Of Things That Smell

Just so no one gets the idea that this blog has forgotten either it’s snarky soul or its occasionally lowbrow leanings, or that I've gone all serious intellectual highbrow, I’d like to pose the following question:

Which of the following is most satisfying after a pleasant meal-- Coffee and dessert, a cigarette, or a good, comfortable, post-meal dump?

Each of these activities present their own pleasures, be they found in ritual, taste, aroma, or just good old fashioned “aaaahhhh, now that hit the spot”. OK, hopefully not all of them involve taste, or probably aroma either, come to think of it, but you get the idea. Some things just go together, and apparently, dinner is polygamous.

While I admit to loving a good cup of coffee, with dessert or even better, with a cigarette, I’m going to have to go with poop, mostly because it just seems so karmically productive. Sort of a circle-of-life thing, if you will, something in, something out. Besides, I’m a man, meaning I once was (still am?) a boy, and everyone knows boys are obsessed with bodily functions. Poop is basically the king shit of bodily functions, so it all makes sense, at least to me.

But poop has an even bigger leg up on its competitors. Face it, you’re not going to have a very wonderful post meal experience of any kind if that experience includes constipation. I like to think that Mick Jagger wrote “Satisfaction” in the throes of a nasty case of after-dinner no-go. This gives a slightly different hue to the lyrics... “'cause i try and i try and i try and i try I can't get no, i can't get no”... now doesn’t it? I can’t really imagine this song being about skipping dessert or a smoke. So you see, to borrow from the Christians, “No poop, no peace. Know poop, know peace”. 

So tomorrow night, if you want to, you can try all three and let me know what you think. In fact, if you’re really adventurous, do them all at the same time, and see what makes the largest positive impression on your psyche. Personally, I find it disturbing to reach for the toilet paper with eclair frosting on my fingers, which tends to completely ruin the objectivity of the exercise, but that’s just me. Just don’t say you haven’t been warned, choose your dessert wisely (this means no Baby Ruths either).

Conclusions? Shit happens, but that’s not such a bad thing, especially after dinner, but probably not during dessert. Now get out of here, I need to lick my fingers so I can wipe...

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