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It’s not just gas stations that are increasingly difficult to find in urban areas. Bathrooms have also become a hot commodity requiring all manner of quarters, tokens, and nervous breakdowns. We’ve got the CIA, the IRS, the FBI, and your friendly neighborhood traffic cop ever at the ready to fine you $168 for daring to turn right on a green light going five miles an hour in Santa Monica (hypothetical, clearly), but heaven forbid we have access to urinary relief. It would seem municipalities are on a mission to ensure widespread micro-discomfort. Because when you’ve got a populace in need of a piss, you’ve got ‘em by the…well, you get it.
Enter innovation. Civil engineers, governments and retail outfits may not find your bladder to be of any pressing matter, but the geeks are ever sensitive to room for innovation. Following that, room for a relaxed gait.
Everyone does it. Before you run in fright from your computer screen, ask yourself if you really know sh*t about, well, sh*t. All we are saying is, give poop a chance. Friends, today, we explore the ins and outs of poo matters. Because poo matters. We are in search of a good poop, and we hope you are, too. Otherwise, some serious sh*t happens. Pull up a stool and learn.
The Scoop on Poop
What goes in must come out! Sans nutrients, of course. The Poop Report says:
The Fuming Fuji does not know what to do, but it rhymes with dexplode. What is this product of unspeakable sugarness? Fuji is baffled. This is a very difficult thing, to baffle a genius.
When I was a kid my best friend and I loved playing the hypothetical game. In case you are unfamiliar with this pastime it basically involves inquiring as to the minimum limits of compensation it would take to get the other person to experience something downright horrible. For example, “How much money would it take for you to run up to ugly Julie right now and kiss her on the mouth?” (We were juvenile, I know.) Or maybe, “How many Snickers would it take to get you to eat an entire earthworm?”
The consequences of such actions are fairly clear. My friend would probably be slapped by Julie and made a social pariah in the first case, and would likely vomit in the latter. Oh, but the sweet reward. We all have our price, and this is the beauty of the hypothetical game. (I think at age 10 it was somewhere around $100 and 2 1/2, respectively.)
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