One of the things North Koreans believe is true of my dead dad is that he never pooped. At one point he just started a myth about him not having bowel movements. It meant he could only use the toilet when he was home alone. He was home a lot, but almost never alone.
He even had a special toilet installed in his bedroom, which I think some people must have thought was odd for someone that supposedly didn’t need it.
I know for a fact my dad did poop. Quite a lot, actually. I remember this one time he came down with a case of food poisoning. He had eaten some bad sushi. The diarrhea that followed inspired him to import a Japanese chef and to promote his previous chef to senior advisor for our country’s nuclear program. It’s also the event that directly led to the construction of his bedroom toilet.
Although I consider myself supreme enough to be able to poop, it does make me feel awkward and self conscious. I always get philosophical when I’m on the toilet. Whenever I take a dump I can’t help but think: So here I am, Supreme Leader of 24 million people, sitting with my pants down on a toilet seat, imagining what the smell must be like to others. I’ve always wondered what other world leaders think of when they go to the wash room.
Whenever I have to go I have at least two generals waiting outside for my protection. They know what I’m in the wash room for on account of the time I spend there. I wonder if Barack ever thinks about these things. Does Barack light a match after he’s done so his security people can’t know what the leader of the free world smells like? If that’s true, then it’s certainly not a free world he’s leading.
I gained some weight lately. It’s become difficult to reach my behind when I want to wipe it with toilet paper. Sometimes I barely touch it and just take a quick shower after using the washroom. My wife has noticed I shower more than I used to. She doesn’t say anything, but I know she knows. She even knows I know she knows, but she knows better than to confront me with it.
I’ve been meaning to discuss it with my dietician, but I’m afraid he’ll just tell me to eat less. I don’t like it when people tell me that.
It seems obvious why my dead dad eventually started the myth about him never pooping. The more supreme you are, the more difficult it becomes to ‘go’ when you need to. My dad probably wished he never had to go and seeing as most wishes come true in my family, he probably based his policy on his wishes, expecting them to align at one point or the other.
Oddly enough I find it reassuring to know my dad used the washroom like anyone else. It makes me less afraid of him. People that crap their pants over some bad sushi don’t scare me, even when they are my dead dad, who either did or did not shoot five hole-in-ones in a game of golf once. I’m still not sure. I saw him use the washroom a lot, especially when he got older, but I never joined him in a game of golf.
He never wanted me to come along.
Your one and unly,
I just saw the movie Grown Ups. I think Adam Sandler and Rob Schneider are the greatest comedians of all time. They do fart jokes, but you never know where the fart is coming from. I think that’s smart.
This un-called for attack on a thoroughly decent human being comes courtesy of Lennard Van Ree of Satire Nation. Personally I think he should be ashamed don’t you?