Sorry for the potty mouth


The other day, an old university friend sent me a couple of invitations to join a couple of politically oriented Facebook groups. I don’t know about this. It’s not that I was raised right, because I certainly wasn’t, despite good, honest effort to that effect, but I think I recall something about not discussing politics or religion in polite society, and while it’s probably fairly apparent where I stand on these issues, I’m loath to outright declare my affiliations in public. Perhaps it’s simply because I’m a private person, although perhaps this very blog presents ample evidence to undermine that argument. So it’s probably that I’m just wishy-washy and don’t have any firm views at all. That’s probably it. Unless it isn’t.

But I didn’t want to actually say I was wishy-washy, so when I turned down these invitations, I jotted off a little note to her boasting that I run a very famous blog with readers of all political stripes and colours, and I didn’t want to alienate anyone at either end of the spectrum by declaring myself for one side or the other. She then asked for the address of this blog, and I gave it to her.

Now, looking over the archive of the last month or so, I’m suddenly realizing that while I’ve scrupulously avoided discussions of politics and religion, I’ve completely forgotten that there’s another thing that decent folk probably don’t talk about in polite society: pooping. There’s been an inordinate amount of scatological discussion going on here recently. I would like to say that making easy poop jokes is not what I am all about. I’d like to say that, but the recent evidence seems to indicate that this is in fact exactly what I’m about. So, sorry about all of that potty talk. And sorry about being wishy-washy and unwilling to commit to saying I was, and sorry about making wildly overstated claims about my popularity.

Also, while I’m at it, sorry to the guy down the street whose gate I helped take off its hinges without your permission while helping my friend move out of the house next door yesterday. I know this has nothing to do with anything I was talking about above, but I really am sorry about this, because I got a lot of splinters in the process, and they really hurt. Thanks for not being a dick about your fence and for bringing me some tweezers and Polysporin.

Since I am already talking about fecal matter, not to mention politics, I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that a bird dropped a dirty bomb on George W. Bush during a press conference on Thursday. This is one instance where I can sympathize with the president, because the same thing has happened to me. And, as many bombs as he’s dropped in his own right, I probably deserved it at least as much as he did.

Many years ago, Scott and I were hanging out on Blockhouse Island in Brockville, and I thought it would be fun to run at a flock of seagulls (the birds, not the improbably coifed 1980s synthpop group) to scare them away. And I ran.* While they flew off, one flew right over me and dropped a blob of guano directly into my eye. Guano is full of uric acid, and it turns out it burns like shitfire. I was totally blinded, and with me cursing and screaming all the way, Scott had to lead me by the arm over to the public washrooms for an emergency eye wash.

When I got home, my mom told me that it was good luck to be shat on by a bird. I don’t get this at all. It seems pretty obviously bad luck in and of itself. But I remembered what she’d said many years later when I was walking down Princess Street in Kingston with her and a seagull shat on her nice, new coat. I told her it was good luck, and I laughed, and laughed, and laughed at my mother, which brings me back to my earlier point about not being raised right despite her best efforts, and I’m sorry for that too.

* I am also sorry for making bad puns.

* * *

By the way, all I really originally meant to do in this space was pass along the link to this excellent New York Times profile of Judd Apatow, the creative force behind Freaks and Geeks, Undeclared, The 40-Year-Old Virgin, and the upcoming Knocked Up, which stars Seth Rogen and Katherine Heigl and is, as you may know, a movie I’m pretty excited about. This is well worth a read.

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