Doo Down Buster #5

Australia is a fun place to be. I can't tell if that's because I'm in Adelaide specifically or if the whole world has just suddenly become awesome. Why would I ask questions about my own extremely fortunate circumstances and general happiness? I guess I won't, though I'd like to delve deeper into this matter, I am here comissioned to write on a specific topic. Pooping. Doo. Poo. Shit. Merd(re). Caca. The brown. The butt puddin. Ass sauce. Et cetera.

 

I've noticed since I've been here that if I eat meat, my movements (the ones in mah bowels that is) are slightly less easy. Now this may be well known, well established, completely true and non-subjective, but to me, it is news. We had a wonderful dinner thrown for us by the Adelaide Festival the other night with a feast of cuisine that was all excellent, Baramundi (amazing fish) in curry sauce with noodles, Crispy Eggplant (I usually hate it but this was amazing), Lamb and beef roast (the lamb here makes me actually like lamb), and as much wine as I've ever seen ever. This was a wonderful feast and we had a great time (picture to come), and the pooping which occurred later was actually quite enjoyable as well, if slightly less easy.

 

Now this brings me to a topic I think about a lot. Pooping.

 

Are those of us who enjoy pooping also anal expulsive in the Freudian sense? Outgoing, friendly, and as wikipedia says "(sometimes) artistic ability"?

 

I would certainly say that I fall under this category, though hopefully not ALL of the problematic elements of it. Cruelty and all that. That's funny thing about pre-late 20th Century writing. It's all focused on the negative characteristics of something as opposed to the good stuff.

 

Speaking of which, it is at this point I must end this post, though I have much more to say. Keep bustin that doo, all of you.

 

Bustin down under there way down way down,

Brian