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  • Everybody Poops…

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    It’s true.

    Food goes in, goes through a series of bio-chemical processes that break it down into nutrients our body can use, then the waste material shoots out the other end. Sometimes at a pretty good clip, especially if fermentable fiber was in your diet.

    Now, I could go into all of the technical stuff, such as Ptyalin – the enzyme in saliva that converts starches to sugar. Peristalsis – the muscular contractions that enable you to swallow, as well as move the Chyme along until it becomes full blown poop. Pyloric sphincters… and on, and on. But, this isn’t an anatomy lesson, nor is it a biology class.

    You see, the thing about poop is that whenever mentioned around my daughter, she immediately goes into the screwy faced “ewwwwww” mode, and runs from the room. Why? Well, I guess because poop is kinda gross. And, she’s a girl. Not being sexist here, just stating an observation. Boys tend more toward “potty humor” than girls. It’s a societal fact.

    So, by now I suppose you are wondering why I am even talking about poop. I mean, after all, it’s not like Christmas is all that close just yet. If you don’t get that reference, just check out Southpark and it’ll make more sense.

    No, the thing here is that poop, as a general rule, isn’t something one talks about in polite company. Sort of… I say “sort of” because poop suddenly becomes a viable topic of conversation – be it at the bar, dinner table, watercooler, what have you, when at least one of three criteria are met.

    1. You are a child.
    2. You have a child.
    3. You are over 40.

    Why?

    Well, let’s break it down.

    First, when you’re a kid, poop happens. Generally in your pants. Therefore, folks out to make a quick buck have gone to great lengths to make animated shows and silly songs about pooping. “She’s/He’s A Super Dooper Pooper”… Elmo does Potty Training… It goes on and on. So, for kids, poop is a perfectly acceptable subject not only for conversation, but for songs and cartoons as well.

    But at some point poop becomes a “dirty little secret.” It’s as if once you have learned where to deposit the poop and all of the “paperwork” involved with making said deposit, “The Poo” is now “Taboo.”

    This poop moratorium lasts for several years – either until you have a kid, or if you skip that joy, until you turn approximately 40.

    Now, when you have a kid, what you have basically done is created for yourself an eating and pooping machine. That’s pretty much all they do for the first year or two. Eat, poop, eat, poop. When they start walking and talking, then they not only eat and poop, they make art with it and tell you about it. You become jaded to the concept of poop. It’s a normal thing. The only time it isn’t is when something changes about the poop. But, that doesn’t stop you from talking about it. Not at all. In fact, it pretty much spurs conversation. There you are, changing a diaper, and voila! You turn your head one way, then the other, giving it a good inspection. Open the shade for more light. Inspect it some more. Then, you call out to your wife:

    “Honey! C’mere…”

    “Why?”

    “You gotta see this poop.”

    “Why?”

    “It’s shaped like Justin Bieber’s head. You gotta see it.”

    “Hold on while I get the camera.”

    See what I mean? Shapes, sizes, colors, quantities.  Poop just becomes a part of normal conversation. Next thing you know, you’re telling everyone at work about the Justin Bieber Shaped Poop, or the industrial adhesive quality of the last diaper you changed, and you aren’t fazed in the least. Other parents are right there on the same page with you. Hell, they even want to see the pictures of the poop head. But, be warned, some of your younger co-workers  who are childless may be put off by this, especially if the subject comes up in the lunch room.

    Our third option comes about as we age. Poop – or more accurately, Pooping, becomes an important part of your day. If you don’t offload that pastrami sandwich and half a package of Oreos, then you just don’t feel quite right. And, of course, since your metabolism is changing, the doctor starts offering up advice.

    “Doc, I haven’t pooped in two weeks.”

    “How much fiber do you have in your diet?”

    “Fiber… Well… I accidentally bit a piece off a Popsicle stick last month and swallowed it. Does that count?”

    “Not enough. Go to the feed store, get yourself a bale of hay. Eat 5 large helpings a day for three days straight, drink 47 gallons of water, and then lock yourself in the bathroom with a clothespin and a copy of People magazine.”

    “I don’t like People magazine. Can I take a Playboy instead?”

    “No. This isn’t a recreational visit.”

    Then, just to take things a step further, as if we really need to do so – when you hit 50 another MD hands you a bottle of Drano for your intestines, then wants to stick a camera up your wazoo… Yeah, the greeting card companies have actually come up with a “Congratulations on your Colonoscopy” card. Go figure. So, if you think poop was okay to talk about at 40, then 50 should be a breeze because it’s definitely all about the poop when you hit the half-century mark.

    And, speaking of Intestine Drano – Even the OTC drug companies are all over this. Just for fun they bombard you with it daily. There are more products out there designed to expel the poop from your body than there are to stop it from leaving. (Whether or not that statistic is really true, I have no idea. I just made it up. But then, this is a satire blog…)

    Seriously though, check the aisle at your local Pharmacy. Plenty of poop aids. You can usually find them near the 57 brands of TP and sphincter wipes.

    So, there you have it. Everybody poops. TV personalities, porn stars, the guy at the 7-11, authors, bloggers, doctors, lawyers, cobblers, butchers, bakers and candle stick makers. Everybody. Although, I have to admit, I’m not so sure about politicians and/or Justin Bieber, but that’s a different blog.

    The thing is, it’s just one of those facts of life. Therefore, even if you don’t have a kid and aren’t over 40, go ahead and make it a fun topic of conversation without any stigma. It’s only poop. Embrace it.

    Just don’t get any of it on me…

    More to come…

    Murv

  • The Big Three Oh…

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    Well, when it comes to “age” the proverbial Big Three Oh is languishing somewhere in a valley well behind a mountain range that is rapidly shrinking in my rear view mirror. That is to say, 30 was a long, long time ago… An entire voting and drafting age adult ago, in fact. However, if you do the math it works out that I took my final bow at Ritenour Senior High thirty years ago this past June. And, like most high school alumni association type folks, mine tossed a shindig to celebrate this milestone.

    The party – or parties, I should say – in question occurred this past weekend (July 16 & 17), at two different locations, beginning with a “Multi Year Happy Hour” at the Lemp Mansion on Friday evening, which saw graduates spanning ’73 – ’84.  (Yours truly was a member of the “hosting class” for the shindig, 1980). Much fun was had, many old faces seen. Some old faces with new construction. Some old faces that hadn’t changed. But mostly, we were all just old. I visited with friends I hadn’t seen in 30 years, and some I hadn’t seen in 5. I even visited with people I didn’t know that I knew and am still not entirely certain that I know, if that makes any sense. As a rule, it seemed a healthy chunk of the folks knew me – or of me – whereas I had a passing familiarity with a much smaller percentage, and am friends with an even smaller number than that.

    This can be a little disconcerting, but beer helps. Several beers helps even more…

    Night two was the “Class of 80 Reunion Proper” and it was held at the Missouri Athletic Club – a posh private club in downtown Saint Louis with fancy ballrooms and high end food. Suffice it to say, when the elaborate appetizer table features plenty of Stilton and Brie among the countless selections, you definitely aren’t talking “supermarket cheese tray” here. This is some upscale digs.

    At any rate, the evening was filled with more chatting, old faces, new old faces, old new faces, and as always seems to be the case with me, a bit of the bizarre. What follows here is a Facebook note I put out there to recap the evening. Since many of my blog readers aren’t on FB, I thought I’d re-run it here:

    RHS Class of ’80 30 Year Reunion Recap…

    ...from the perspective of a satire slinging suspense-thriller author, of course.

    Drive… Drive… Drive.
    Park
    Walk… Walk… Walk…

    Check in table…

    Kathy (Not EK): MURV!
    Me: KATHY!
    Teri: Here’s your nametag.
    Me: I have a nametag? YAY! I’m SOMEBODY!!!
    Teri: Have fun.
    Me: We’ll try. But if we don’t it’s your fault and I’m going to come looking for you.
    Teri: SECURITY!

    Mingle… Mingle…

    Me: Yeah, the redhead will have a tonic with a twist. What kind of beer do you have?
    Bartender: AB this… AB that… AB the other… AB… AB…
    Me: What, no C?
    Bartender: AB this… AB that… AB the other… AB… AB…

    Random Classmate: Hi.
    Me: Hi, ummm, do I know you?
    Random Classmate: I don’t know, but I know you.
    Me: Sorry… I just can’t place you.
    Random Classmate: You’re that guy.
    Me: I am?
    Random Classmate: Yeah.
    Me: Oh, uh, okay.

    Mingle… Mingle…

    Random Classmate: Hi. We went to school together.
    Me: Ummm, yeah. I think that could be said for most everyone in the room. Here’s your sign.

    Random Classmate: Picture, picture. I need a picture.
    (smile) {flash}
    Random Classmate: Me too! Me too!
    (smile) {flash}
    Random Classmate: Over here, Murv!
    (smile) {flash}
    (smile) {flash}
    (smile) {flash}
    {little floaty spots in front of my face}
    Music in my head: BLINDED BY THE LIGHT, REVVED UP LIKE A…

    [hug]
    [hug}
    [handshake]
    [hug]
    [handshake]

    E K: Who was that?
    Me: I have no effing idea.

    [hug]
    [hug]
    [handshake]

    Random Classmate: Murv! How are you? Remember that time when we blah blah whatchmacallit blah?
    Me: Ummm. No?
    Random Classmate: Oh come on. We blah blah, then bla… Oh… Wait… That wasn’t you. Sorry.
    Me: No problem. I get that a lot.
    Random Classmate: Ummmm… I hear you write books now.
    Me: That’s the rumor.
    Random Classmate: You’re going to put this in a book aren’t you?
    Me: (nodding) Yeah. Probably. At the very least I’ll make fun of you in a blog or something.

    Random Classmate: Hi.
    Me: Hi.
    Random Classmate: Do you know me?
    Me: Hell no, I don’t even know myself.
    Random Classmate: You’re that guy, right?
    Me: That’s what I’ve been hearing.
    Random Classmate: No. Really. You’re that guy.
    Me: Okay, you got me. I’m that guy. But, sometimes when I’m feeling pretty, I’m that girl.
    Random Classmate: O_o.
    Me: Yeah, kinda scary, huh? (Especially since I look nothing at all like Marlo Thomas.)

    BUFFET LINE…

    E K: Woohoo! VEGGIES!
    Random Classmate: (pointing) Ummm… What’s that?
    Me: (pointing) Grilled eggplant, grilled zucchini, grilled asparagus, grilled portabello mushroom, grilled peppers…
    Random Classmate: Oh… those are vegetables, right? I’ll pass…
    Me: You’d have a much easier time with that if you actually ate some of the veggies. Fiber, ya’know.
    Random Classmate: O_o

    Eat… Eat…Eat…

    DJ Jazzy J And The Funky Bunch – YO! {{{feedback… buzzzzz… squeal… feedback}}}
    [MYOO-ZIK – Thumpita Thumpita TWANG THUMPA]

    Random Classmate: HI!
    Me: WHAT?
    Random Classmate: HI!
    Me: WHAT?
    Random Classmate: YOU’RE MURV, RIGHT?
    Me: OH, I THINK IT’S JUST DOWN THE HALL.
    Random Classmate: WHAT?

    Me: (relating an anecdote to friends) …And then at my last book launch I had someone who actually believed she’s a “REAL vampire slayer” and wanted to “slay” my fans when they showed up.
    Steve, Cathy, and Nathan: You actually get crazy people showing up?
    Me: At least one at every event. Sometimes more…
    (frantic high heels coming closer – clickity, clackity, clickety, clackety…)
    Random Classmate: You don’t know me, but I know about you!
    Me: What will it take for you to not call the police? I really can’t afford another strike on my record right now.
    Random Classmate: O_o… Ummm… I know who you are.
    Me: I’m glad someone does, because I lost my wallet.
    Random Classmate: No… You don’t understand… I know what you do.
    Me: Like I said, how much for you to not call the police?
    Random Classmate: No… You write books.
    Me: I’ve heard that about me.
    Random Classmate: Well, have I got a story for you!
    Me: Really? What is it?
    Random Classmate: I can’t tell you because you’ll steal it.
    Me: Yeah, I don’t blame you. Just can’t trust us author types.
    Random Classmate: But I’ll sell it to you.
    Me: Sugar, no offense, but I have more ideas running around in my head than I’ll be able to write in my lifetime, so I’m not going to steal it or buy it.
    Random Classmate: But this has never been done before and it will make a great movie.
    Me: So, what is it?
    Random Classmate: I can’t tell you. You’ll steal it.
    E K: [giggle]
    Steve, Cathy, Nathan: Crap… You weren’t kidding, were you?

    {flash} {flash}
    [hug hug]

    Random Classmate: Hmmnimmm… Wharz baffoom?
    Me: Hall to the left.
    Random Classmate: Hmmmnim.
    clickety, clackety, clickety, clackety, CRASH!
    Steve, Nathan, Cathy, EK, Me: (checking on the noise) Are you okay?
    Random Classmate: Hmminnmm rmmm hhmminnimmmmm…

    (frantic high heels coming closer – clickity, clackity, clickety, clackety…)
    Previous Random Classmate: I’ve got a story… I’ve got a story… I’ve got a story…
    Steve, Cathy, and Nathan: This is going in a book, isn’t it?
    Me: Probably.

    Various Classmates: Bye… See you in five years.
    Me: Bye. See you on Facebook.

    Many of my friends keep telling me that my experience has something to do with celebrity. I think they’re wrong, because we didn’t have any celebrities at the reunion, other than the folks who worked so hard to put the shindig together.

    Rumor has it the 35th is going to be a 4 day cruise. I have to wonder if I’ll be hearing clickity, clackity, clickety, clackety… stumble… gaaahhhhhhh! SPLASH!

    I hope not, but if I do I’ll have no choice but to put it in a book. After laughing so hard that my drink shoots out my nose... Why? Because I’m that guy.

    More to come…

    Murv

    (Pictured: Photo 1 – Dave Perkins, M. R. Sellars, E K… Photo 2 – Kathy Patterson Inkley, M. R. Sellars…)