Subject: Re: KINGSHIT Subject: A Proud Fathers' Story Date: Thu, 10 Jun 93 22:16:53 GMT From: L616015@lmsc5.is.lmsc.lockheed.com (The Space Ranger) Organization: Lockheed Missiles & Space Company Yesterday my #1 son, who just turned 5, had his first massive grogan. Not that he, during the course of his young life, hasn't pooped out copious ammounts of shit in the past. This one was special. From the nether regions of the throne room comes this cry of "MOMMY!" I head to the room,the wife, being busy. There sitting on the throne is my boy, and fear is in his eyes. me: What is it son? him: Daddy my poop is hurting me and won't come out! So for the next 15 minutes I sit on the edge of the tub and coach him on. "Come on son, you can do it! Push a little harder now!" As spasms of pain wrack his little body, he tries to please me. Finally, with his hair matted to his forehead and tears falling from his eyes, his ordeal is over. He slowly lowers his trembling, shaking body off the throne and peers into the bowl. Of course, I look too. There, swimming in the blue water, is a masterpeice. A good 9 to 10 inches long and bigger around than a quarter. I swear there was smoke coming off it. I patted my boys head as he wiped his butt and told him how proud of him I was. I'm gonna have it bronzed and use it as a paperweight, 'till he's 18. Then he can have it. The Space Ranger L616015@lmsc5.is.lmsc.lockheed.com Sensitivity: Company-Confidential Newsgroups: alt.tasteless Path: lugb!news From: IVANOFF@gateway.atd.cra.com.au (Bastard who drank your last beer) Subject: New Green Grogan Recipe (more shit stories. Yawn) Organization: Sodomites for Jesus Date: Mon, 20 Jun 1994 02:41:24 GMT I've recently stumbled on a recipe for producing shits I've never had before, or even thought possible. There are two of these, and their characteristics are dependant on incubation time. It all happened after the inaugaral meeting of MDC (the Melbourne Daiquiri Club). The procedure is as follows - Go to dinner at your most hated Italian restaurant. Order spinach and ricotta canelloni, which should arrive cold. Wash down with a bottle of frascati. Bitch to the management and grudgingly pay your bill. Proceed to the nearest yuppie cocktail bar. While leering at the barmaids, consume one of every available kind of double shot daiquiri. If there is a lack of variety, you may have to double up. When well and truly shit-faced, go home and consume vast quantities of the cheapest possible cask rot-gut claret, until you lose consciousness. OK, the results - The DaiquiriShit (TM pending) - incubation time 14 hours. Produces beatiful khaki shit-logs flecked uniformly with black-brown streaks and studded with strawberry and kiwi fruit seeds. If you are blessed (like I was), they will line up perfectly in parallel to each other, layer upon layer. Have a sickly pungent bouquet. The MercuryShit (TM also pending) - incubation time 22 hours. After the firm yet delicate DaiquiriShit comes a blasting torrent of black LiquiShit (TM). Buckets and buckets of deathly black, foul butt-cream, thick and constant and lump free. Smell at own risk. The wafts drafting up from between my thighs almost made me hurl. Truly the foulest stench I have ever produced. The name MercuryShit becomes apparent when you try to flush. When you stand up and look at the stuff, it lies flat on the bottom of the S-bend, the water above clear enough to drink. Two distinct and separate phases. When I pressed the button and the water flushed down, and the foam subsided, the shit was still there, totally undisturbed. Flush after flush would not move it. The only way to get rid of it is to manually slurry it up and flush repeatedly. Highly recommended. After all that, I thought I could never surpass these achievements. I was wrong. The third turd did something I never thought possible. I dumped a drain stopper. True. I clogged up my folks toilet. It was truly the mother of all grogans. Got trapped in the S-bend, and when you flushed, the bowl would fill up, and the water slowly drain out around the obstruction. They had to call in a plumber and everything. Beat that, you assholes. ObMyLifeIsOver(almost) - Felt the fear of God this morning. Couldn't access the news, my only reason for working here. Re-booting fixed it, but it was a very scary feeling thinking my access had been cut. Victor Subject: Re: Chronic Gas Date: Fri, 4 Mar 1994 02:58:04 GMT From: IVANOFF@gateway.atd.cra.com.au () Organization: Sodomites for Jesus In mattre@calvin.linfi| eld.edu writes: > Latly I've been suffering from chronic flatulence. My but does > the song and dance, than five minutes later it once again erupts that > familiar stacatto blast. I don't know what's causing it, all I've > been eating are tator tots. But a case of multiple farts is not > reason enough to post to this group. There's more to it than that. Chronic gas. Let me tell you about chronic gas. Lately I haven't been able to go half an hour without belching out an anal death rattle. All because of my doctor. I'd been having digestive problems for about a year, which is no big deal in itself, cause it used to provide a lot of variety in my dumps. They'd range from dry gravel shits to weak tea liquishits to the climax of my life, the mother-of-all cannonball shits, which I described last year in "Feco-angular Trajectories". No, the problem is that in the long term I was getting really run down from nutrient depletion having things just shoot through me to my crapper. (ObSlightlyRelatedThought - It should be possible to thoroughly evacuate a persons GI tract and play them like trombone, using the sphincter, with electronic stimulus to cause contractions and dilations, to produce various pitches) So I go to my doctor and, after a brief examination, she gives me these pills. "Take half of one for the first few day, then one a day after that. If you start taking one straight away, you might get a little constipated" she says. "OK" I say, leave and go up the pub, immediatly wash a whole pill down with a couple of beers. Wake up next day, have a shower, then sit down to take my regular morning dump. Nothing, don't even feel like there's anything to dump. Oh well, go have a coffee and take the days pill. Off to work. 10 AM, tummy feels a bit tight. Mmm, did I do the wrong thing ? Naah, I got a fast metabolism. Shot smack and not felt a thing even though the other people felt REALLY good and were ralphing every half hour. Snorted half a gram of coke in one hit and only got a briefly numb nose. Thus reassured, I carry on with the days duties. 11 AM, feeling REALLY tight. Got a lump in my belly just below my sternum. Shit, I think, finally done my liver. It hurts to sit upright. Rub it a couple of times, hear some internal burbling. Maybe its only my guts. Midday, fucking agony, go to the toilet, feeling totally incapacitated. Lock myself in and start massaging my abdomen. All sorts of bubbly and squishy noises and I can actually FEEL the grogans slip an inch here, a centimeter there. Pain subsides occasionally, only to return with renewed vigour. Around 1 o'clock, I emerge, the toilet groganless, and try walk and act normally, even though I feel like I've just had a concrete enema. 2 PM, the gas starts. Belly still like a watermelon. Noone around, so I fart. A long, high pitch rasp emerges, a good 5 seconds long, the vibrations of my tightly puckered sphincter actually hurt from the frequency. Keep massaging my belly when noones looking. Another fart brews up, I go outside on the pretext of having a fag, and let rip. BRAAAAP!! Shorter, but more intense and I have this stinging as though I've torn something. BRAAAP!!! Another one. OW-OW-OW! It stings! Look around to make sure noones around. Finish my fag and return to the toilet. Skidmarks in my knickers. I wipe, OUCH!, and sure enough a spot of blood. Something did split. I keep rubbing my stomach, more ungodly noises and feelings of inching movement. This routine continued for the rest of the afternoon. Around 4 PM the pain starts to subside, but still no sign of anything solid. The flatulance continues unnebbed, every rasp followed by a yelp of pain. Later that night after many attempts and cubic metres of bum gas, I finally managed to squeeze a couple of logs out. Perfectly shaped 1" cylinders, as long as your middle finger, but thats all. Go and try to fart myself to sleep. Morning. I am awakened by a rogue shit log trying to ram its way out of my colon. "Clench!", I think, "You can do it! Clench!". It subsides and I run to the bathroom. KERSPLASH, KERSPLISH, fecal carpet bombing of my bowl, water splashing everywhere, bursts of floor shaking gas. The pleasure indescribable, just the joy of standingup, feeling empty makes me dizzy. Since that morning, I have been shitting like clockwork, perfectly smooth yet firm grogans, completely consistent from day to day. And yes, the farting continues every few minutes, loud high pitched braps. I'm used to them now, they don't hurt anymore. And yes, I'm still taking the pills. I don't know what I enjoy more, the lucky dip surprise packages I used to shit, or the quality controlled logs I dump now. The latter definately has the advantage of a limitless source of gas, and I can always fart on command. Newsgroups: alt.tasteless From: IVANOFF@gateway.atd.cra.com.au () Subject: ObFaecalStatistics (was Re: Caldwell--Warrick) Organization: Sodomites for Jesus In <6H5ZBc1w165w@nirvana.apana.org.au> gumby@nirvana.apana.org.au writes: > ObFaecalStatistics: Does anyone have an accurate figure of exactly how many > people around the world pinch a loaf at any one time? How many people > are actually taking a dump as I post this? > > Cheers. > - tony "bloody asshole" sander OK, my initial reply was flippant and did not address the real issues, but here are some hard numbers - World Population - 7,000,000,000 Average Person Dump Time - 5 minutes Average No. Dumps/Day - 2 Average Daily Total Dump Weight - 0.5 kg Average Dump Weight/Dump - 0.5 kg/2 = 0.25 kg Average No. Population Dumping at any 5 min period - (7,000,000,000/1440 min) x 5 min = 24,305,555.56 people Total Weight Being Dumped at any given 5 min period - 24,305,555.56 x 0.25 kg = 6,076,388.89 kg = 6,076.39 Tonnes Total Volume Being Dumped at any given 5 min period (assuming that given some are floaties and some are not, that average density will be 1) - = 6,076.39 cubic meters The above figure for average dump weight may seem conservative, but we must remember that a good deal of the world is malnutritioned (a good deal of the world also has diarrhoea.) To put the above total into an understandable visual image - Volume average olympic swimming pool = 2250 cubic metres Average No. Olympic Swimming Pool Volumes being dumped per any 5 min period = 6,076.39/2250 = 2.70 Olympic size pools Not quite enough to engulf a city or make the Earth move out of orbit if concentrated on one point. It's still a lotta shit. IVANOFF Subject: Feco-angular Trajectories Date: Thu, 2 Dec 1993 00:46:34 GMT From: IVANOFF@gateway.atd.cra.com.au () Organization: Sodomites for Jesus My lifes work is complete and now I am weary and must rest. This morning I did the mother of all CannonBall Shits(TM). A huge chunk, the size of a smallish apple and the consistency of thick porridge. Now I regularly leave spots *underneath* the seat (how many readers can boast that) but the speed and force of impact of this one caught even me by surprise. Much grunting and punching the wall, then - SPLORTCH!!! A few seconds, then the sensation of warm spots on the back of my thighs and on my scrotal sac bring me to full wakefulness. I wipe and look. A full tablespoon worth on the paper, medium brown, the consistency of a thick bolognaise sauce. I smell, not much aroma. Oh well, can't have everything. Grab more paper and keep wiping. 4 attempts later the paper is starting to come clean. Now the other stuff. I stand and look at my butt in the mirror. Besplattered with pea size spots of mini-grogan. More paper. Finally clean, I return to the bowl. My heart wept, the angels cried. About 2 inches above the water line at the back left of the bowl hung a good handful size of hemispherical turd. Lining the rest of the chamber and rim, dozens, nay hundreds more pea sized spots. I lift the seat, more of the same. Damn no camera. Worse still my flatmates are not quite the aesthetes that I am and furthermore practice "hygiene". As much as it grieves me I must clean it up. I do it and flush. No effect, just turns the whole lot into meatball soup. Wait for the cistern to fill and flush again. A moderate change noted. After repeating the process 3 times, some chunks are still evident, but I leave it. At least I made an effort. Now I feel this sad, post-scat wistfulness. That this great moment of fleeting beauty has been and gone, perhaps never to return. The tears are making my keyboard slippery and the emotion of it all has almost made me forget the write about the subject line of this post, namely "Feco-angular Trajectories". As most people know, each penis has its own peculiar angle of direction for urination. I have the same thing with shitting, especially notable with CannonBall Shits (TM). I could go into any toilet, and after a moments examination be able to pinpoint exactly where my turd will impact with the bowl and bullseye every time. My particular angle is, if you take my seated position forward as being north, is south by south west, 60 degrees down. This sort of thing may have potential as a forensic tool if accurately maintained in a data base.