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February 4th, 2008

Scatology 101

Because the guy who used to live in my apartment didn’t have his mail properly forwarded, I get the best mis-delivered mail in the world. Aside from catalogs for places that sell only Christmas-themed gourd art, he also gets a Doctor’s Alert newsletter. Each installment is designed to sell you an herbal product that will remedy some ailment you didn’t even know you had that could totally kill you. Last month it was “You Have Up To Eight Cups of Mucus In Your Nasal Cavity That Is Breeding Bacteria And Trying To Kill You And Leave Your Children Fatherless” brochure. I’m not actually kidding about that, either. They’re that serious about your nostril health.
But this time around it was the Doctor’s Digestive Health Alert which immediately boasted:
Intrigued, I flipped it over and was delighted by the following:
So, naturally, I committed a felony. I opened that sucker up and turned to page 3. Good thing, too! Because I learned a lot! For instance did you know that…
…? I sure didn’t! Look how forlorn this gentleman looks, trying in vain to have an early morning crap, his pajamas surely becoming damp from the sweat and tears brought on by this intense challenge.

Also, they’re racist:

The newsletter doesn’t even try to make this a kind, gentle warning about the difficulties you could encounter if you continue not to use their product. There are frightening statements like “If your poop is thin and twisted or round and hard, you could have a narrow clogged colon that’s strained to a bursting point!” The bursting part isn’t what scares me. It’s the word “poop,” being used in an advertisement that is trying to look like a real science journal.

Things that also shouldn’t be used in a faux-medical journal include phrases such as “helps flush away hidden gunk SO YOU CAN POOP IN SECONDS!” and testimonials with nebulous syntax that leave you confused and upset, like:Now, we can agree that a miracle is in general a good thing. But are we to believe that Agnes obtained relief with this product after twenty years of inconvenience and found it to be miraculous? Or is the miracle that the gastric ailment spanned two delightful decades? If we are to believe the former, did Ms. Pettipaw think to consult a physician during this time at all? Or was she just content to be a slave to the toilet until the right homeopathic cure came along?

Lastly, I object to this photo:
because a pamphlet about poop is no place for a ham sandwich.

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