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Friday, January 18, 2013

Up Your Nose with a Rubber Hose

Because I am a male who has never really grown up, I take note of any news about anything that is excreted from the human body and take particular interest in anything scatological.

Today’s topic: Fecal Transplants.

According to the Boston Globe, quoting the New England Journal of Medicine, there are people whose bowels get infected with antibiotic-resistant bacteria called C. diff. This results in diarrhea of explosive proportions that can make them Pamper dependent. They cramp; they writhe in pain; they spend their lives on or near a toilet. I have known people who have suffered from Irritable Bowel Syndrome, and without mentioning his name, Other Bill truly thought he was on death’s door. Eating made everything worse. He lost weight. You’d go out to brunch and he would eat nothing or dry, unbuttered toast. After months and months of suffering, he was lucky enough to find a medication that repealed the runs, renewed his life and brought his weight up to where it has never been before.

Diarrhea, in whatever form it comes, is no laughing matter and is a serious issue.  So some potty-obsessed doctor dining in an elegant Boston country club must have said to his fellow diners, all proctologic researchers: “What if we take some shit from a healthy person and transplant it into the guts people with C. diff?” This caused the rest of the dining party to quickly grab their linen napkins, cover their mouths and run toward the staffed bathrooms.

But wait, it gets worse. Here’s how an actual fecal transplant works: The Potty Doc takes poop from a healthy person and shoots it down through a tube that is inserted into the nose of the recipient, fed down through the stomach and into the small intestine. You’d want your doctor to make sure that there were no pinhole leaks in that tube, lest some of the healing elixir make a visit to your taste buds.

Imagine walking out of the outpatient clinic and running into someone you know.
            Hi, Bill, how are you, what’s new?
Hey, Fred, I just had a bag of shit shoved up my snoot, and I feel better than
I have in years! A new lease on life!

The interesting thing about this medieval procedure is that in this particular study, it actually worked in 13 out of 16 cases. I assume the failed 3 were given placebos of Jell-o instant chocolate pudding. I also think it’s safe to assume these lucky 13 guys don’t date much. (A handshake instead of a kiss! Could it be…my transplant?)

You can’t argue with success. But I have one question: Is there an aftertaste, perhaps in a burp?

I would love to have read the grant proposal for this project. We are seeking gazillions of dollars to transplant healthy fecal matter intra-nasally into sixteen (16) adult volunteers who live their lives in diapers and elastic waist pants.

Who knew that excrement had a value, a need, a purpose and was not just to be flushed and chemically destroyed? My septic tank is now my own private Fort Knox. A flush is now a deposit.

Whenever we go to our local cinema to see a movie, there is a bloodmobile sitting out front that will give you free movie tickets if you donate a pint of blood. When you come out from the movie, circus barkers try to hook you with their canes and drag you into the bus. Because we are “men who have sex with men”, or MSM, as we are pigeonholed, we are, according to the Red Cross and Uncle Sam, ineligible blood donors for the rest of our lives. They think we are all HIV positive. This ridiculous rule has been reviewed and considered for repeal by the FDA, but so far there is still a lifetime ban on MSM blood donation, unless your last MSM contact was prior to 1977.  Hell, my first MSM contact was barely before 1977. Well, okay, 3 years before if you must know. Closer to 2, really.  December 6, 1974 if you need to know. Del Shannon was singing “My Little Runaway” from the American Graffiti 8-track. See? It pays to keep your old diaries.

What I am eager to see parked outside my local multiplex is a shitmobile. Step right up, take a dump, and your next movie’s on us! Or even better, in seedy parts of towns where pawn shops and peep shows flourish, centers will pop up that will pay plenty for your poop. Or maybe they’ll set up Poop Banks, where C. diff sufferers can search online photos and bios of beautiful, successful and well-bred people from noble stock, and select feces, say, from royal families or movie stars, Kennedys or Kardashians. Click the Prince Andrew Feces link and the Channing Tatum Feces link, then click your shopping cart and check out. Mix & match designer dumps. This week’s special: free shipping with purchase of enough shit over $1200.

But I suspect MSM’s will be weeded out from being fecal donors, too. It’s just the US government’s way of confirming their opinion that we aren’t worth shit.

Click here to read the article and see a picture of a woman who ate shit and lived. You might want to wait until you digest your lunch to check this out.

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