Butt bugs Got You Down?

You can't see them. You can't hear them. But chances are, you know someone who has them. And the odds are good that you'll get them, too. Do you find yourself or a loved one uptight, quick to anger, overly critical, and/or argumentative? If so, sphincter mites could be the cause.

This year, three out of four people in the world will be diagnosed with sphincter mites, also know as butt bugs. Five out of six people in America will be diagnosed with them.

Sphincter mites are microscopic parasites that live and breed in the internal rectal wall of humans. It is unknown how they spread from one host to another, but it is believed that their eggs become airborne and ingested by the host. The eggs incubate while traveling through the host's intestinal system, and upon being excreted from the bowels, hatch, then crawl back into the host through the anus. Though the mites are parasitic, they are mostly benign to the host throughout their life cycle.

While living, growing and breeding, sphincter mites consume bacteria, nutrients, and spores from fecal matter. Because of this trait, scientists have nicknamed sphincter mites "nature's little chimney sweeps." In the early 1950s, the US government attempted to use this characture of sphincter mites to promote rectal hygiene in elementary schools. Unfortunately, at the time little was understood about the negative effects of the mite.

Complications due to sphincter mites arise as members within the colony begin to die inside the host. Anal plaque, once removed efficiently from the body by the mites, begins to build up and harden at an accelerated rate. Eventually, feces and dead mites impact the colon, causing physical and mental distress. Removal of the mites is costly, time consuming, and embarassing. However, most people with sphincter mites are completely unaware of their condition, and go years without treatment.

According to Dr. Heitnutts of the American Scatological Society, there are several common reactions to an outbreak of sphincter mites. During the initial infestation, as the mites begin to scrub the colon, one might feel a sense of euphoria, or what some describe as righteousness. This feeling is accompanied by a noticeable lack of odor in the stool and intestinal gas. Once the colony beings to die, the host's excretiont patterns become erratic and infrequent. The host will become insecure and hypercritical to everything in its environment. Finally, the colony will be dead, no doubt the colon impacted, and the host will have an irrational desire to shit on everything, particularly things other people enjoy.

Removal of a living sphincter mite colony is impractical, as an ongoing infestation is rarely diagnosed. As of yet, there are no treatments to kill eggs such as with worms and other parasites. Once one has progressed to the final stages of infestation analscopy is the only treament. Using fiber optic cameras and industrial grade forceps, a licensed proctologist has to find what crawled up there and died, and pull it out.

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Axe Body Wash Makes Like Chinese Michael Vick, Murders Puppies With Lead-Based Treats

It's all over the news again: a third recall of Chinese manufactured items, poisoned with lead based paint. The last couple of recalls were crappy toys no one's played with in 5 years, except for poor kids who don't deserve toys in the first place. This time it's Barbie Dolls. Millions of girls and pansy boys from middle class families have been put at risk to the deadly effects of lead poisoning. But the nightmare doesn't end there. Yours-truly has recently discovered that another, far more important segment of the population, has been endangered by the greedy corporations, negligent manufacturers, and lead-spewing Chinese: the erotic toy-duck aficionado and his pet dog.

I recently purchased an Axe Body Wash Collector's Edition. i was in need of soap to showers, but I was lured to that product in particular by the free, sexy rubber-ducky included with the package. How could I resist? Little did I know that the sexy rubber-ducky was manufactured in China, and could possibly have killed or poisoned me.

Below I have reprinted an email I sent to Unilever, producers of Axe Body Wash; Accoutrements, toy-duck manufacturer; the Chinese Embassy; and the Consumer Product Safety Commission. The email details my concerns over the safety of their product, my experiences with the product, and some suggested short-term reparations until a recall of the product is made. Should any responses follow, be sure that they will be reprinted on this blog.

WARNING: the following email contains descriptions and scenes some might find upsetting, particularly those living in the imaginary world where money grubbing corporations and foreign countries really care whether or not they kill you with their product after you've purchased it.

To whom it may concern,

I recently purchased an Axe Shower Collector’s Edition with She Devil-Duck. While taking a bath with the She Devil-Duck, I noticed that it was produced in China. With the recent recalls of lead-tainted items manufactured in China, I wondered if the She Devil-Duck might also be subject to a recall.

Though I am concerned about the effects of lead poisoning, I am not familiar with the symptoms. Perhaps if I share my experiences with the She Devil-Duck you could determine whether or not I have been poisoned and/or a recall should take place.

I could not give you an accurate temperature of the bath water, but room temperature was 75 degrees and the water was slightly steaming. There was no soap present in the water, as I take baths to relax and/or masturbate. I placed the She Devil-Duck in the tub when it was about half-way full. While it squeaked adequately enough when squeezed, the She Devil-Duck did not perform so well in the water. Approximately two seconds after floating on the water it fell on its right side. Upon righting the duck, I made particular note of the subtle indentation over the duck's bodice, hinting at an ample bosom. Kudos to your art department for producing something erotic in duck form, yet not stooping to the gutter level of other body wash producers. As I continued my inspection I noticed: the made in China stamp on the bottom; and a few spots where paint had already begun to wear off. I did not know if the lead in your product was heat sensitive or not, but I immediately threw it out of the bath. Other than a slight case of premature pruning of the hands and feet, I can report no other ill effects from your lead poisoned item.

Unfortunately, I can not say the same for Lil' Stinker, the family dog, or our carpet. After tossing away the toxic rubber duck, Lil' Stinker took hold of it, and devoured it on the spot. I theorize that as the lead was activated by the steaming water, it became corrosive, breaking down the rubber, and making it easier for an unsuspecting pet to swallow it and die. As of this writing Lil' Stinker is still with us, her agonizing and inevitable death antagonized by severe bouts of explosive diarrhea. The walls are easy to paint over, however the carpet will be quite costly to replace; emotionally and monetarily. The missus and I first had sex on that carpet and there are some old stains, that have been covered by the new dog stains, which have great sentimental value.

At this moment, I do not seek any sort of compensation, only that this dangerous "toy" be removed from the market. Had any of our children survived their abortions, I shudder to think what tragedies might have taken place were they to come in contact with such a thing. I do suggest that a donation be made in the name of Lil’ Stinker to the American Scatological Society. These unheralded people work tirelessly at the study, treatment, and prevention of fecal morbidity. Perhaps your small act of contrition would save the next Lil’ Stinker from the miserable fate brought on by your charming, poison-filled novelty.

Please do the right thing.

Sincerely,
Barnabas Danglewood.

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Awww!

I got a call late last night from Lil' Stinker. She was in a panic. Through the snorting and licking and wheezing of her short snout, I could hear whimpering.

Her grunts and whimpers were running into each other. Something was wrong, but in her state, I could not tell what.

"Silence, she-bitch!" I shouted. She was silent, and after pacing nervously around in three circles, she sat down and looked up at me. "Now, slow down and tell me what's wrong."

The first thing she told me was that she needed my poop. Or rather, a piece of my poop. One just large enough to pass for the stool sample of an eleven week old bull dog puppy. Not her of course, but a friend of hers that was having a poop analysis done at the vet's in the morning. However, the friend had just finished the last leg of the Iditarod and was severely dehydrated, and thus constipated.

The entire situation struck me as odd, and Lil' Stinkers story didn't add up. I had heard of puppies eating feces and was beginning to wonder if Lil' Stinker had picked up the nasty habit from one of the neighbor dogs. Had the dachshund across the way turned her on to shit? Was this the first sign of a jones coming on, an attempt to con me out of my poo?

I of course refused to help. The story was too shady, I told her. And any sensible vet would reschedule. Finally she broke down into a pile of wrinkles and drool. The poo was for her. She was a candidate for high profile government job. She needed to provide a stool sample to test for worms, parasites, and narcotics. The problem was that until recently she had been a drug mule for a missouri cartel running dope through Kansas. She hid balloons of coke or H in her tail pocket, and if any drug dog got too suspicious, she cried sexual harassment, and he got his balls snipped. Unfortunately, on her last run two nights ago, a german shepherd got a little too frisky. One of the balloons exploded. She spent the last two days thinking she was a fire hydrant. She just came down an hour ago, with enough time to remember her job, the test, and a desperate need for clean shit.

I could tell by the way she licks her butt she wasn't lying to me. She said she'll do anything for me, if only I'll help her out this one time. I thought back to all of her crap I've had to pick up, and all of the stains in the carpet.

"No, Lil' Stinker. No." She can clean up her own mess this time.


Sent via BlackBerry by AT&T

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Donnelly Dome: Yeti Attack Part III

...Continued from Donnelly Dome: Yeti Attack Part II

Dr. Heitnutts squints as he crushes a nugget between forefinger and thumb. He watches carefully as bits crumble, and drift slowly through the breeze. He scribbles notes, makes calculations, and categorizes each detail per the method set forth by the American Scatological Society.

The American Scatological Society has four traits by which it measures feces: size, texture, density, and color. By examining these qualities in a sample, one can determine the health and diet of an animal, as well as a general sense of its type (herbivore, carnivore, omnivore). It is a crude method suitable for novices, but it has its limitations. The system that I developed, for which I was politely asked to leave the Society, includes four additional elements: distribution, symmetry, taste, and smell. It is a more holistic approach and if properly used, can tell us not only the diet and health of the animal, but particular species and mood. I find it to be far more practical, for it models the way animals in the wild examine and categorize scat. For instance, a deer that comes across a pile of dung might approach it cautiously, noting the size and area it encompasses. It sniffs and nudges it with a nose, determining the freshness. Then carefully nibbles a piece. With a few tentative chews it recognizes the particular flavor of its cousin Bob, who had been missing for a week. The deer prances off to warn friends and family of a hungry bear in the area, and to make memorial arrangements for poor cousin Bob.

These two conflicting methods have always been a rift between myself and Dr. Heitnutts. Though he maintains his membership in the Society, despite his association with me, he displays a latent fecalphobia. It is because of this fear he can never fully comprehend the elegance of my system, nor embrace the knowledge it can teach us. I suspect him of orchestrating my removal from the Society.

"I'm not sure what it is," Dr. Heitnutts says. This is quite an admission. Even though he clings to an archaic, flawed method, his knowledge is expert. It is easy to see that it's not the smooth, almond shape of moose droppings, the squat patties of buffalo, nor the squished date appearance of bear. These are all common droppings, and abundant in the area. Turtle conducts his own experiments, flinging it against rocks and into the nearby pond. I'm not sure if he is testing for aerodynamics, splatter patterns, or some other quality. His method might be the next leap in our work, something to make my system as irrelevant as the Society's. Or he's just exercising his need to toss shit around whenever he sees it. But after a few throws he looks as perplexed as the rest of us.

It is a puzzle. We seem to be dealing with some sort of omnivore. There are bits of undigested bone fragments, as well as seed husks. The trail of droppings that leads to the larger pile suggests dehydration, or constipation. However, with a pond nearby and the beginning of the seasonal melt, this seems unlikely. A small taste should solve the question. Most mammals have anal glands which tend to flavor their excrement in a way particular to their species. Wolf scat tends to have a smokey-oak taste, whereas bear tastes of curry and is slightly intoxicating. Certain aficionados of the orient prize brown bear over most others as a seasoning and aphrodisiac.

I take a small pinch from the mound and pack it behind my lower lip. Instantly I spit it out in disgust.

"My God, Danglewood! What's gotten into you?" Dr. Heitnutts asks. His outrage turns to terror as the smell of black licorice wafts from my mouth.

"Yeti!" I manage to choke out, then fall into unconsciousness.

To be continued in Donelly Dome: Yeti Attack Part IV...

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Donnelly Dome: Yeti Attack Part II

... Continued from Donnelly Dome: Yeti Attack Part I

Donnelly Dome is a small hill set in a river valley near Delta Junction. Snow-capped mountains loom in the distance, and all around new green struggles up through the ashy remains of Alaskan fire seasons. When the fires burn and smoke fills the valley it looks like someone paved the woods with quick-crete and sod.

But the fires are still a ways off. The woods are thawing out of hibernation, and though the mountains still have their frosty crowns, down below it is muddy. Crystal lakes that mirror everything serve as watering holes for the local denizens. Evidence of these creatures habitation of the area litter the valley, no longer hidden by winters cover.

My team easily identifies the droppings of buffalo, moose, rabbit, wolf, black bear, and a single pile of brown bear. Yet one sample eludes classification. Twenty meters from the crystal pond is a giant boulder, possibly a chip once cleaved from a mountain by glaciers thousands of years ago. Atop the rock are the scattered remains of various animals. Here and there we pick out gnawed pieces of rabbit, fox and lynx. We've found someones kitchen, apparently. Nearby, Turtle discovers two smaller rocks which appear to be its latrine. The two rocks together are about a quarter of the size of the larger, and between them is a space no more than half a meter. It is in that space we find the hairy, unidentified scat.

Too be continued...

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Donnelly Dome: Yeti Attack Part I

When I tell people I live in Alaska I'm often asked about its beauty and its weather. I would say that Alaska has more beautiful days than any place I've ever been. Alaska has so many perfect days of windless and dry weather, temperatures in the mid-sixties, and clear blue skies but for a few white, fluffy clouds. That being said, the majority of the time, living in Alaska is a lot like being trapped in a frozen turkey with a bag of giblets as the only company. So it was with much anticipation that myself and several colleagues were to go to the field as the april thaw was in full swing.

My giblets for this trip were Turtle and Dr. Heitnutts. Turtle has many times proven himself to be an excellent companion. He is a first rate flunky, trouble-maker and instigator. His boyish charm and rascally looks have kept him in trouble and the rest of us entertained. But for the mangey stubble on his cheeks and appettite for south american transvestites, one could not place his home at the heart of meth country.

Dr. Heitnutts is a man of many faults, the least of which are his love for the worst chili to ever come out of Ohio, and his stingieness with M&Ms from a one pound bag. Despite the title of doctor he knows absolutely nothing about anything. I bring him along in the hopes that one day I might see him eaten by a bear.

... continued in Donnelly Dome: Yeti Attack Part II

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