It's not that we're stuck in the third grade. Sure we've developed and progressed past juvenile humor. We all have jobs (for the most part) and dress ourselves (for the most part) and behave politely (for the most part) in public.

Once you've been a grownup for awhile you start to notice that polite company tends not to talk about their body mechanics. Is it uncomfortable to discuss the harsh realities? Do we wish to paint over the smelly flatulent exuberance of our assholes with the barbiedoll brush of plastic nothingness? How in gods name can you keep from laughing (or crying) when someone is plagued with the combination of cheap beer, indian food, and lactose intolerance sunday morning brunch? I think the third graders with their primitive "poo poo" toilet humor are more in touch with the reality of our repression than any of us would like to admit.

I would like to reassure you, the viewer, that we, the postmodern sideshow, will not fixate on scat, doodie, farts, stains, runs, ca-ca, turtle heads, mess'npants, sanchez's (dirty or otherwise), hot carls, glass tables, brown mousse, brown town, watersports or the flaming bag of poo. On the other hand, I would like to point out that last week we wrote bathroom haikus and we regularly greet eachother with "Hows your colon?"

I guess I can sum it up best by saying "We've gotten over, getting over toilet humor, and it feels great!"

Just click on the picture with the cute bunny and read the comic.

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