A Sick Fucker.
If you were not lucky enough to meet Paul Bothe before he graduated and moved back home to work at his father's dildo factor, then you have not been subject to rants or raves in the fashion of the following piece. Paul is purposing a drastic shift in one of America's oldest institutions. His concepts are backed by scientific figures and his reasoning is rooted in his own love of the matter at hand. If Paul had it his way, this would be a topic fit for the dinner table and it would remain a major issue in the Presidential debates. If extreme Christians had their way, Paul would be sentenced to death before he could put his stubby little paws on their prepubescent daughters. Either way, we all get this rare chance to pier into the mind of a man who will wrestle with Medomalacuphobia while rotting away in a prison after getting charged with more counts of child molestation than a Catholic Bishop. Enjoy!
THE NEW NUMBERING SYSTEM
For anyone who's ever witnessed me vomiting, you know that it's a violently memorable experience which takes you on an emotional roller coaster through peaks of crazed fear and valleys of deplorable disgust. The sound itself conjures up visions of exorcisms and satanic rituals amplified through the tailpipe pf a 73' Riviera with no muffler. Seriously, if you've ever listened to "Stairway" in reverse, just picture that sound blasted through a blown out speaker with every level and EQ set to 11. The sound has even been described as "like someone yelling at a toilet." I've literally had several friends witness this and never speak to me again. Yes, it's that bad.
Unfortunately, at least for all of those within several blocks of me, I have been known to enjoy a cocktail here and there. I've also been known to enjoy enough cocktails that this violent torrent of shit-colored puke is an inevitable event, whether it be on the night of alcohol consumption or on the morning after the said consumption. Sometimes it looks like the drinks I had that night. Other times it looks like the food I had a week ago. Once it even looked like a distinct blend of Yoohoo and baked beans. But enough about me...you're probably asking yourself what this has to do with you.
Simply put, vomit, though often overlooked, is the last bastion of simple and pure scatological gross-out material. Where piss and/or spit used to be considered to be liquids of varying amusement and mild disgust, they've both, like Lynyrd Skynyrd, become watered down (sic) versions of their former selves. In terms of bodily fluids, piss and spit are like floppy old lady boobs...I don't necessarily want to lick and fondle them, but I don't mind if they occasionally brush up against my shoulder. For the sake of brevity and whatever remaining shred of respect you might still have for me, I will leave cum, earwax, and blood (and a mixture of the three that's been affectionately dubbed 'The Beethoven.') out of this discussion. But you're probably saying, "Paul...what about shit??? That's pretty fucking disgusting too."
Undoubtedly, shit is one of the most disgusting things that I've ever washed off my balls and certainly the most awful thing I've paid a Haitian boy to smear on my blindfolded face. But let's be honest... without taking a survey of your functions, I can safely say that you shit somewhere in the range of 0-2 shits daily. Averaged out at 1 shit daily per person (times 6 billion people in the world) means that there are around 6 billion shits each day, not counting dogs, horses, or the mighty elephants of the dark continent. 6 billion shits. EVERY DAY. Now let's be honest...how many times do you throw up in the course of a day? Hopefully not a lot. Let's just say for argument's sake that each person throws up once a month or 12 times annually (and we'll assume that any bulimics are averaged out by people with iron guts who never throw up). I'm not going to pretend like I'm capable of long division, but even with that high estimate of vomit frequency, that breaks down to 30 shits for every one puke. This brings me to my point.
Any item’s gross out capability is based on more than the grossness that it embodies, but also the frequency with which it occurs. For example, for me, I would absolutely dread having to stick my finger in someone’s asshole, but for a doctor who does this daily, suddenly a finger-letter in the male-box doesn’t seem so shocking. Or a mortician. Or Freddie Mercury’s dry cleaner. Its basically scientific fact that the more you encounter something the less gross it is, even where the grossness is a constant. So assuming that turds and puke have a similar level of grossness on their own, the much lower frequency of vomit makes it exponentially sicker than poop’s.
So, what I am proposing is a new numbering system to replace the antiquated system of piss=#1 and shit=#2. Under my new system vomit will be bumped up to #1, shit will remain at #2, and piss will fall to #3. I know it’s going to take some getting used to but remember, Rome wasn’t built in a day. So the next time you puke, shit, or piss, take a minute to think about your old Uncle Asshole, because I can guarantee I’ll be thinking about you.
Love,
The Heinous Anus
If you were not lucky enough to meet Paul Bothe before he graduated and moved back home to work at his father's dildo factor, then you have not been subject to rants or raves in the fashion of the following piece. Paul is purposing a drastic shift in one of America's oldest institutions. His concepts are backed by scientific figures and his reasoning is rooted in his own love of the matter at hand. If Paul had it his way, this would be a topic fit for the dinner table and it would remain a major issue in the Presidential debates. If extreme Christians had their way, Paul would be sentenced to death before he could put his stubby little paws on their prepubescent daughters. Either way, we all get this rare chance to pier into the mind of a man who will wrestle with Medomalacuphobia while rotting away in a prison after getting charged with more counts of child molestation than a Catholic Bishop. Enjoy!
THE NEW NUMBERING SYSTEM
For anyone who's ever witnessed me vomiting, you know that it's a violently memorable experience which takes you on an emotional roller coaster through peaks of crazed fear and valleys of deplorable disgust. The sound itself conjures up visions of exorcisms and satanic rituals amplified through the tailpipe pf a 73' Riviera with no muffler. Seriously, if you've ever listened to "Stairway" in reverse, just picture that sound blasted through a blown out speaker with every level and EQ set to 11. The sound has even been described as "like someone yelling at a toilet." I've literally had several friends witness this and never speak to me again. Yes, it's that bad.
Unfortunately, at least for all of those within several blocks of me, I have been known to enjoy a cocktail here and there. I've also been known to enjoy enough cocktails that this violent torrent of shit-colored puke is an inevitable event, whether it be on the night of alcohol consumption or on the morning after the said consumption. Sometimes it looks like the drinks I had that night. Other times it looks like the food I had a week ago. Once it even looked like a distinct blend of Yoohoo and baked beans. But enough about me...you're probably asking yourself what this has to do with you.
Simply put, vomit, though often overlooked, is the last bastion of simple and pure scatological gross-out material. Where piss and/or spit used to be considered to be liquids of varying amusement and mild disgust, they've both, like Lynyrd Skynyrd, become watered down (sic) versions of their former selves. In terms of bodily fluids, piss and spit are like floppy old lady boobs...I don't necessarily want to lick and fondle them, but I don't mind if they occasionally brush up against my shoulder. For the sake of brevity and whatever remaining shred of respect you might still have for me, I will leave cum, earwax, and blood (and a mixture of the three that's been affectionately dubbed 'The Beethoven.') out of this discussion. But you're probably saying, "Paul...what about shit??? That's pretty fucking disgusting too."
Undoubtedly, shit is one of the most disgusting things that I've ever washed off my balls and certainly the most awful thing I've paid a Haitian boy to smear on my blindfolded face. But let's be honest... without taking a survey of your functions, I can safely say that you shit somewhere in the range of 0-2 shits daily. Averaged out at 1 shit daily per person (times 6 billion people in the world) means that there are around 6 billion shits each day, not counting dogs, horses, or the mighty elephants of the dark continent. 6 billion shits. EVERY DAY. Now let's be honest...how many times do you throw up in the course of a day? Hopefully not a lot. Let's just say for argument's sake that each person throws up once a month or 12 times annually (and we'll assume that any bulimics are averaged out by people with iron guts who never throw up). I'm not going to pretend like I'm capable of long division, but even with that high estimate of vomit frequency, that breaks down to 30 shits for every one puke. This brings me to my point.
Any item’s gross out capability is based on more than the grossness that it embodies, but also the frequency with which it occurs. For example, for me, I would absolutely dread having to stick my finger in someone’s asshole, but for a doctor who does this daily, suddenly a finger-letter in the male-box doesn’t seem so shocking. Or a mortician. Or Freddie Mercury’s dry cleaner. Its basically scientific fact that the more you encounter something the less gross it is, even where the grossness is a constant. So assuming that turds and puke have a similar level of grossness on their own, the much lower frequency of vomit makes it exponentially sicker than poop’s.
So, what I am proposing is a new numbering system to replace the antiquated system of piss=#1 and shit=#2. Under my new system vomit will be bumped up to #1, shit will remain at #2, and piss will fall to #3. I know it’s going to take some getting used to but remember, Rome wasn’t built in a day. So the next time you puke, shit, or piss, take a minute to think about your old Uncle Asshole, because I can guarantee I’ll be thinking about you.
Love,
The Heinous Anus
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