Welcome to the Ask Log string. I AM LOG!!! Here you can post all of your questions and concerns about Log-related matters. The following are some of the questions from the original string. As you will soon see, no question is too silly, tasteless, or downright disgusting for Log (I AM LOG!!!). So feel free to ask away. Log will answer all of your questions.
Q:
“How will corn affect the horse's shit, compared to hay?”
A:
I AM LOG!!! And I will now answer your question. Being Log, I'm often asked a lot of really stupid questions. However, your question shows genuine interest in the science of assorted things being swallowed, and the effect upon the outcome. Log has deemed your question worthy of a sincere reply.
Here in my majestic porcelain Palace Acrapolis, corn is often used for many things, especially during Christmas time, only here we call it Stooltide. Every year my loyal subjects decorate the Stool Log with corn and then the festivities begin. The lighting of the Stool Log is always a long anticipated event, and believe me, without the Stool Log my subjects would really raise a big stink. Pretty soon we get a rip-roaring blaze going and sure enough, those ornamental corn kernels start going off just like Jiffy Poop Poopcorn, and I can assure you that it really is as much fun to make as it is to eat.
However, your question asks specifically about the effect of corn on horses, as opposed to hay. I've recorded the output of many animals, including dogs, cats, owls, cows, elephants, rhinoceroses, goats, penguins, sperm whales, and of course, humans. However, in checking my back log (yes folks, even Log must keep a daily log) I was shocked to discover that no such testing had been done on horses.
Springing immediately into action I assigned my best Feceologist, Professor Phillip DeCesspool, to assist me and begin testing. As Log (I AM LOG!!!), I can assure you that no horses were harmed during the testing. Come to think of it, the horses seemed to enjoy it even more than we did. We began with the traditional diet of strictly hay, and just as I expected, it came out as horse poop. Then we began gradually introducing corn into the horse's diet, and that's when things started to get interesting. Starting with small amounts of corn added to the hay we were soon able to play Connect The Dots with the ensuing dung. But as we added more and more corn we found that corn has absolutely no binding power, and this produced really crappy quality poop.
We then decided to switch to a strictly corn diet. At first we tried canned corn, and we soon discovered that horses can't use can openers. So we switched to frozen corn. At first, the horses didn't like the idea of eating frozen corn, but we rammed it down their throats with sticks and by golly they even swallowed the sticks. This led to the horses crapping out corn dog flavored poopsicles. Then we switched to the good old fashioned corn on the cob. Not only were the horses pleased, we found that when given just enough water to wash them down, they were able to crap out a fine corn mealy textured dung which can be easily rolled out into tortillas.
This eventually led to such unusual phrases as "I'm not eating any stinking tortillas!" and "This taco tastes like chit man!"
Thank you for your question. I AM LOG!!! Beware of false logs, lest they offer you exploding lawn cigars.
Q:
“O.K., so I spent last night at a monastery. It had a wonderful labyrinth, overlooking the ocean. I cleared my mind on the way in. About l/3 of the way, it came to me--I am a Thought in Joe's Brain. Maybe some of you posters are old enough to remember that old Reader's Digest series. If not, there was an apt description in the movie The Fight Club. Then, the inevitable happened. Around l/2 of the way in: I am A Big Piece of Shit in Joe's Large Intestine. Luckily, I surpassed the small intestine, which would have assuredly made me claustrophobic, running screaming from the labyrinth, surely to the consternation of my hosts. Later on, in my cell, sleeping next to the nuns, I thought that things could be worse than being a big piece of shit in a large intestine. Any thoughts?”
A:
I AM LOG!!! And I can answer your question. What you've experienced in that large intestine was a near rebirth. A few more steps in the right direction and you would've had an out of body experience; this is how one becomes Log.
Your fears of becoming Log are perfectly natural. Being Log isn't for everyone, after all, it is a crappy job and the pay stinks. Your decision to back out and not take "the big plunge" shows maturity and self-knowledge. Some people just dive right in without really considering what they're getting themselves into, thinking that they've somehow won front row tickets to the Toilet Bowl, only to find out there was only one seat available and a hell of a lot of paperwork to deal with afterwards. But you had the courage to say to yourself "I don't need this shit!", and that's okay. So go forth (or third or fifth, depending on where you are in line), and hold your head high.
I AM LOG!!! Live long, and may the flush be with you.
Q:
“please tell us the fantabulous tale, about THE SON OF LOG..........p.s. why were you sleeping with nuns.”
A:
I AM LOG!!! But alas, there is no Son of Log. Being Log is a pretty sad and lonely job, even the Maytag Repairman turned down the opportunity to be Log. And who could blame him? After all, being Log takes up a hell of a lot of time and energy. Everytime there's another Cow Patty Bingo fund raiser, or another poor soul goes up Shit Creek without a paddle, or whenever the shit hits the fan; everybody expects Log to make an appearance.
And who would want to procreate with such a being? Log is by no means pretty. As my own dad once said to me, "You look like you've been shot with a ball of your own shit!" And that was long before I even became Log. There's also the problem of marriage. Oh sure, everything's all fine and dandy during the dating phase, but as soon as you get married they want to change you, AND you get stuck with a hole new family of in-logs.
I did consider adoption once in order to have a Son of Log, but the interview didn't go well with the lady at the adoption agency. In fact, the entire interview consisted of this:
Lady: Name?
Log: I AM LOG!!!
Lady: Occupation?
Log: I AM LOG!!!
Lady: SECURITY!!!
And so here I sit all alone upon my throne, ruling over all who don't even know they're being ruled over, without an heir to carry on my logacy. By the way, here's a little known fact... if you ever actually do wind up going up Shit Creek without a paddle, don't worry. If you travel far enough upsteam you'll find a really big factory where they make paddles. Ironic, huh?
I AM LOG!!! Think outside the butt.
PS. It wasn't me that was sleeping with nuns, however, I always have been a sucker for a woman with a bad habit.
Q:
“Since High Shirpa Rain gave Bush some corn, how're his logs lookin'?”
A:
Dear Schaluck,
I AM LOG!!! Your question regarding corn and the effects upon the logs of the world’s leaders, specifically, President Tush, shows that you’re far more intelligent than that silly Circus Midget. Log is pleased not only with your question, but also the covert operation that was required to get the answer.
As you well know, the Secret Service guards the President’s Tush 24/7 and closely monitors everything that comes out of it, and they’re very careful not to let anything that comes out of the President’s Tush to fall into the wrong hands (or the wrong toilet bowl, depending on the circumstances).
Being Log, I just walked right up to them and demanded to see the corn-influenced logs of President Tush. And do you know that those Secret Service agents had the nerve to ask me who I was and why I wanted to see the logs? Well after declaring that I was Log (I AM LOG!!!) and that I had the Log given right to demand to see any logs I damn well choose to see whenever I damn well choose to see them, they told me that Tush’s logs were confiscated and sealed by the Department of Homelog Security. Then they said that if I didn’t go away and quit bothering them they’d beat the crap out of me.
Obviously, they didn’t know who they were dealing with (I AM LOG!!!). I went back to my majestic porcelain Palace Acrapolis and immediately summoned the Special Flushes Unit of my Logs of War, and sent them on a covert operation to confiscate the well-guarded logs of President Tush. This was easy to do because my Magical Mystery Sewer leads to all toilets, great and small, and even the ones that don’t have plumbing. Soon, my Special Flushes Unit was in position to ambush the President’s Tush and snatch those logs right out from under his nose… I mean from under his… oh, you know what I mean.
Soon, President Tush’s turds were brought before me for examination, and my first thought upon looking at them were “Holy Crap!” Obviously, High Shirpa Rain hasn’t been using just any ordinary corn. This looked more like that multi-colored kind known as Indian Corn; this gave the turds the appearance and impression that President Tush had swallowed and pooed out a whole box of Chiclets. There also appears to be evidence of some sort of intoxicant contained within the corn because the Special Flushes Unit reported that President Tush and several Secret Service agents were seen playing Connect the Dots with a previous log.
Thank you for your question. I AM LOG!!!
Log is kind
Log is good
Log was once
Your plate of food.
Airy Ace wrote in and asked:
“Dear Log, Back in the days of Matt Dillon and Rowdy Yates, there were outhouses. Toilet paper was shipped by Pony Express, and made its way to the furthest reaches of the frontier in the form of a tear-pad called a Sears Cattle Log. I have often wondered, sometimes several hundred times a year, why it was named "sears" (which means charring, scorching, or burning the surface of with or as if with a hot instrument), and why the reference to bovine fecal material? Thanks in advance for your shower of whizzdom. Airy (too many nicknames) Ace PS Not to be a midget and ask too many questions, but maybe you could explain why outhouse is pronounced ‘out house’ and not ‘outh ouse.’"
A:
Dear Airy,
I AM LOG!!! I can see that you haven’t been brought up to speed yet on Log matters. Perhaps I should consider some sort of orientation or class for beginners. But I can see that you’ve truly done your homework. Log encourages the furthering of one’s education. It’s like that old saying “Those who do not learn from the history of turds and doomed to repeat pooing them”, or something like that.
Outhouses and toilet paper were the first human inventions that really set humans apart from animals. Oh sure, animals had some success in the toilet paper industry, but it really only developed as far as using their tongues and dragging their butts on the ground. Without hands and opposable thumbs they were unable to evolve further, let alone build outhouses.
But humans are thinkers and doers, and during the course of any given day they are also stinkers and pooers. And as they began to overbreed and screw up the planet it soon became clear to them that a method of everybody agreeing to all poo in the same place was a necessity. It also became clear to them that an efficient method of removing dingleberries was also a necessity because leaves just weren’t doing the trick, and they just never developed the limberness and agility to use their tongues or drag their butts on the ground.
Then one day a guy named Larry (no relation to the moose) was out hunting in the woods and he came across a mountain lion digging a hole. Thinking the mountain lion was digging for gold, Larry silently watched, hoping for the chance to jump the mountain lion’s claim. Much to Larry’s disappointment the mountain lion stopped digging and then took a big dump in the hole. Suddenly, Larry got an idea. He ran back home, grabbed his shovel, and started digging a hole in his back yard. Soon his neighbors took notice, and thinking he was digging a well they all came over to help dig the hole.
Once Larry had determined that the hole was big enough he dropped his drawers and proceeded to take a big ole dump in the hole. Larry’s neighbors, thinking that this was another one of Larry’s cruel jokes, pushed him into the hole and then they all went home. Several hours later when Larry had finally managed to climb out of the hole, he realized that walls were needed to keep the neighbors from seeing what the hole was intended for, and it needed some sort of chair-like device to prevent him from falling in.
Pretty soon Larry had gathered together lots of lumber, nails, and a hammer; and he was busy hammering away. Larry’s neighbors heard the hammering and soon gathered together over at Larry’s once again to help, thinking he was adding on to his house. The neighbors found Larry in his back yard building a structure over the very hole they had pushed him into earlier that day. The neighbors began to mutter outloud things like “What the hell?”, and “That damn Larry!” But Larry wasn’t the least bit perturbed.
When Larry was done he explained to his neighbors the purpose of this strange looking structure. He explained to them that because they had always expelled their bodily waste inside of their houses, or “inhouse”, that it was the very reason they all lived so far apart and rarely visited one another. But now, with this new device they would all be able to expel their bodily waste “outhouse”. This drew a round of applause from the neighbors and they all lined up for a chance to try out Larry’s new outhouse. Back then, people with speech impediments often pronounced it “outh ouse”, and since it was considered perfectly natural to make fun of such people (even dwarfs made fun of people with speech impediments in those days), they eventually conformed to the “out house” pronunciation. Personally, I never could understand why the word “house” was used in the first place because not even I (I AM LOG!!!) would live in such a dump.
Despite the popularity of Larry’s invention, there still remained the problem of efficient wiping afterwards. Larry thought long and hard on this problem, and then one day the answer became obvious. What was needed was not only something that didn’t dry up and crackle into bits during the autumn season, but also something that would enable people to guide the new material to its target. Just then one of Larry’s cows wandered into the back yard and took a crap on Larry’s copy of his new best-selling book, How To Build Outhouses And Impress Your Neighbors”. Larry was angry at first, not only because it was his only copy of the book, but also because nobody else seemed to be buying it. Larry picked up the book and tried to shake off the cow’s turd, or “cattle log”, but it stuck fast. He then simply tore away the offending pages and presto! Now all that was left to figure out was a guidance system.
Larry experimented with several different types of paper including newspaper and rolling papers, but he soon discovered what worked best was paper that included pictures of people wearing long underwear. Larry, not being too bright despite his success, surmised that the people in the pictures had eyes, and could therefore “see” behind his back. And so he called these pages “Seers”. Since public education wasn’t all it was crapped up to be in those days, it was only a matter of time before uneducated people started spelling it “Sears”. The term “cattle log” was quickly tagged on because abolitionists in those days were convinced that Larry’s “Sears” could also be used to clean up the streets after the cattle drives rolled through town. And soon, Larry began mass producing his Sears Cattle Logs and they sold like hotcakes, which is kind of ironic really because up to that point hotcakes were often used as toilet paper on cold winter nights.
Thank you for your question. I AM LOG!!! A turd in the hand is worth poo in the bush.
A. Little Dickerstein wrote in and asked:
“If a turd isn't a turd until it sees the light of day, then a human baby wouldn't be a human baby until it also sees the light of day. Which brings me to my question. If a baby can be aborted, can a turd suffer the same fate?”
A:
Dear A. Little,
I AM LOG!!! Your concern for the rights of unborn turds is very noble, but I can assure you that the unborn turds do not suffer any pain. So the answer to your question is Yes, however, in my government there are very strict laws to regulate the abortion of unborn turds.
For example, if the unborn turd threatens the health and safety of its host body (it may tear the host a new asshole) then it’s usually best to have it removed. Oh sure, there are radical groups out there that all claim that adoption is the best answer to the problem, but have you ever seen any of them walking around proudly with their newly adopted turd from a total stranger? Of course not. That’s why I routinely have them all rounded up and sent to the Wastewater Treatment Plant, where they’re treated like wastewater. That usually makes them pull their heads out of their asses.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. May the flush be with you.
Jeffery Dalhmer wrote in and asked:
“If I kill somebody right before that person has to take a shit can I still cut up the body and process the turds in an out of body experience? thanks
A:
Dear Jeff,
I AM LOG!!! I can see that you haven’t changed much over the years. How’s that appeal coming along? Obviously you didn’t pay a lot of attention when killing your victims, because if you had you would’ve noticed that most people crap their pants when they die. An exception to this rule would be people that starve to death. Otherwise, most people who die a violent death are usually pretty empty by time they’re dead.
This is usually true of people who die in their sleep also, which leads to such conversations as “Honey, did you crap in the bed again? Look at me when I’m talking to you!” So the answer to your question would be “No”.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. Think outside the butt.
Snotty Anderson wrote in and asked:
“Hey Log!!! How many turds to the gallon ? Thanks, Snotty”
A:
Dear Snotty,
I AM LOG!!! First of all I should disqualify your question because you posted it three times. But I admire your persistence, and that’s why in order to answer your question I’ve decided to send you one gallon of my personal private reserve turds. You’ll really enjoy this because not only does it come in an attractive hand-painted porcelain container, but each turd contained within is individually gift wrapped, numbered, and personally autographed by me (I AM LOG!!!).
You’ll be the envy of all your friends, if you have any, because this offer is not available in stores. And as an added bonus you’re automatically eligible for membership in the Turd of the Month Club. That’s right, each month you’ll receive a hole new turd, delivered right to your door, to enjoy all year round.
Butt wait, there’s more! As a lovely farting gift you’ll also receive a home version of the game. I’ll bet you didn’t even know there was a home version of the game. Yes, imagine the hours of fun and entertainment you’ll have. In fact, if you can get anybody else to show up, you’re guaranteed to be the life of the party.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. A turd in the hand is worth poo in the bush.
Trowser Snake wrote in and asked:
“LOG Is it possible to crap a 6 foot long turd that looks like a rattlesnake? thanks in advance T.S.”
A:
Dear T.S.
I AM LOG!!! Your question sounds as if there may be money riding on a bar bet. Well rest assured that there IS an answer to your question.
There's an old saying that goes "You are what you eat." Well you may not know it, but your turds are also what you eat. And the same is true for Rattlesnakes. If you've ever seen a snake take a dump then you know what a rare form of entertainment it is, and you probably noticed that what comes out of one end of a snake looks remarkably like what went in the other end.
This is because snakes don't chew. They swallow their prey whole, and when it comes out the other hole it really doesn't look a whole lot different. Now, if you apply this same principle to humans then logic dictates that the results should be the same. Therefore, if a human swallows any form of food without chewing it, it will come out looking pretty much the same as when it went in. Corn, nuts, raisins, sunflower seeds, and sesame seeds are excellent examples of this theory in practice.
Therefore, if a human was to swallow a six-foot long Rattlesnake without chewing it, then it would indeed be possible to crap a six-foot turd that looks like a Rattlesnake. However, Log (I AM LOG!!!) recommends that you do NOT attempt this at home unless the Rattlesnake is dead. This is because while snakes in general don’t seem to feel the least bit sorry for swallowing other things whole, they really hate it when someone else tries to do the same to them.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. May the Turd of Paradise fertilize your lawn.
Unknown wrote in and asked:
“Ummmm, excuse me, mister Log. Is it bad when logs are green? What does that mean?”
A:
Dear Unknown,
I AM LOG!!! I would remind you that there is a one question at a time rule, but you appear to be new at this and you sound rather distressed by your questions, so Log will be lenient this time.
First let’s narrow things down a bit by assuming you’re not referring to a dead moss-covered tree trunk, and that you are in fact referring to something that came out of your butt. In this case, green logs are not necessarily a bad thing. Did you recently eat a can of spinach? Popeye had that problem too. He was always calling me up and saying “Well blow me down! My logs are green! That’s all I can crap, and I can’t crap no more!”
So I’d have to tell him “I AM LOG!!! Lay off the freakin’ spinach already! And what the hell is up with Olive Oyl? I mean her nose sticks out farther than her tits, what’s up with that?” And then he’d make that weird noise he always makes when he twirls his pipe in his mouth and then hang up on me. So one possible solution to your problem would be to refrain from eating anything green.
On the other hand, if you ate a big fried chicken dinner with macaroni and cheese and corn-on-the-cob, and it comes out green, well then you’ve got a problem. The odds are that you’ve got an empty brown ink cartridge in your CBTP (Colon Based Turd Printer), and it’s trying to overcompensate with the green ink cartridge, this is really bad news because once the green ink cartridge runs empty it’s going to switch to the red and then you’re really going to freak.
My advice to you is to go to your nearest office supply store and ask for a brown ink cartridge for a CBTP. If they ask what brand you need just look on page three of the service manual. You didn’t throw away your service manual along with the box did you? Well in that case the sales rep at the office supply store will have to look up your ass with a flashlight to get the brand name, but once the correct brand is determined then all you have to do is pop the new brown ink cartridge into your CBTP and your problem will be solved.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. A turd by any other name would smell just as bad.
Airy Ace wrote in and asked:
“Dear Log, Is it that the ancient Zen conundrum I scent needs to mature like fine cow manure until it sprouts the answer from the mycelium of your mind, a magic mushroom bursting in spores of cosmic wisdom pulsing out of your brain, mellowing in your spine like such fine wine that it even doesn't make you throw up, exiting your fingertips and out to the matrix of brains connected to the internet, or did you pass it like a rabbit pellet in a sub-atomic fart? Nay, I have faith in LOG!!!, and I shall shine my inner grow lights upon thee as I patiently await the mycelium of your mind to bear good fruit. Too Many Nicknames, so Airy Ace will do for now”
A:
Dear Airy,
I AM LOG!!! I’d like to commend you for your question. Despite it being pretty long, you included commas in all the right places, and more importantly, it finished with only one question mark. Unfortunately, the question makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, and I’m not sure how to go about answering it. But rather than have you go away empty handed I’m going to compromise by telling you a story.
Once upon a time there was a guy named Larry. This particular Larry actually was related to the moose. Because of this genealogical aberration he sported a fine looking pair of antlers, which made it really hard for him to wear hats. Needless to say, Larry was also short-tempered. It didn’t take much to set him off. In fact, I remember one day in a restaurant he was complaining about the meal, but he ate it anyway. Afterwards, the waitress brought over the dessert tray, looked at Larry and said “And now here’s something we hope you really like!”
One morning Larry was getting ready to go to work, he was already in a bad mood because it was raining outside and he’d never be able to pull the hood of his coat over his antlers to keep his head dry. “Damn rain!” Larry yelled, as he shook his fist at the window defiantly. Larry just couldn’t figure out why the rest of the world treated him differently from everybody else. “Why can’t they just accept me for who I am?” Larry shouted at nobody in particular. “I put my pants on one leg at a time just like everybody else!” shouted Larry as waved his pants around the room.
And then suddenly Larry got an idea. He sat down on his bed, placed both of his legs into the pant legs of his pants at the same time, stood up, and just like that Larry had done the impossible. He put his pants on two legs at a time. “Holy crap!” shouted Larry, “What a time saver!” Larry quickly finished dressing, and as he did he said to himself “This is what the world is going to remember me for!”
Larry went out to catch the bus to work, no longer upset about the rain getting his head wet, and he didn’t even mind the old people standing under his antlers to keep dry. Unfortunately, Larry had woken up three hours late that morning for the fourth time that week, and so when he finally arrived at work his boss fired him.
You know, now that I think about it this story really doesn’t do much to answer your question, so I guess the answer to your question would be no, I just pass it like a rabbit pellet in a sub-atomic fart.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. I stink, therefore I am.
Airy Ace wrote in again and asked:
“Dear Log, Perhaps you finally can lay to rest this ancient zen conundrum. I have been searching for the answer all my life. I have even looked deeply into my pile of laundry, but I have found nothing except unidentifiable mutant bugs, webs of mold, and mushrooms that only make me throw up every time I try them. The question is this: If a dog eats cat poo and doo-doos, is the doo-doo doggie doo-doo or kitty poo? Yes, looking deeply into my laundry only illustrates my desperation to find an answer. I have also asked the librarian, which is why I am no longer welcome at the library. You are LOG!!! I anoint thy feet with buck lure. Airy Ace”
A:
Dear Airy,
I AM LOG!!! I’m sorry for having missed your question regarding the recycling of cat turds through the digestive tracts of dogs. I’ve been really busy here in my majestic porcelain Palace Acrapolis, what with the Stooltide approaching and my having to get ready to perform my annual duties as Santa Log. Dressing up as Santa Log is no easy task, and anybody who has ever seen me dressed up as anything will tell you I can be quite a pantload.
As you probably already know, dogs, along with chimpanzees and humans, are the most shameless animals on the planet. A dog will look at the turds of another species and think to itself “Hey, if it’s good enough to come out of them, then it’s good enough to come out of me too.” In fact, if you ever have a problem with a neighbor’s dog crapping on your lawn simply pour bacon grease on the offending lawn cigars and the next time that dog comes around it’ll eat every one of them before depositing a fresh one. This is not only a lot of fun to watch, but you’ll burst from laughing every time you see the dog lick your neighbor’s face.
Now then, your question is certainly an interesting one. One would think that once a cat turd always a cat turd, but then it doesn’t take into account the fact that dogs will eat anything that’s already been eaten by something else. One might also think that once a dog turd always a dog turd, but then it doesn’t take into account the fact that it was already a turd when the dog ate it. Still others would ask “What if the dog has a completely empty stomach when it eats the cat turd, and therefore it never mixes with any food that may already be inside of the dog?” This is an excellent argument; however, it overlooks that fact that the dog considers the cat turd to be a viable member of the food chain.
Therefore, the answer to your question would be that a cat turd passed through a dog would be actually Half & Half. You may want to take that into consideration the next time you think about using it in your coffee.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. I feel the love, poop hug everybody!
A Christmas Postcard from Log:
Dear Fans,
I AM LOG!!! I’m sorry for my silence these last couple of weeks. I’ve been very busy with all of my preliminary duties as Santa Log. Yes, I’m making my list and checking it twice. I’m gonna find out who’s naughty and who wipes. And believe me, I’ll find out because I AM LOG!!!
And don’t you worry none about this conspiracy to flush me. If you think trying to put toothpaste back into the tube is difficult you just try sending me back where I came from. Remember, flushing is only the end of the life cycle, and then it all starts over again.
I AM LOG!!! Have a merry Stooltide and a crappy New Year.
Sir Lord Ainsley IIV wrote in to say:
“Turd, I mean Log, I have already crushed your futile army this morning by sending them on a downward spiral to Hell through my porcilian God of mayhem and anal comfort. Godspeed You Black Emperor Sir Lord Ainsley IIV”
A:
People of the full latrines… I AM LOG!!! And I have returned. No Trailer Queen, Log is not dead, oh ye of little faith! Don’t you know that flushing me only leads to my rebirth? That’s why you always wind up having to take a dump again the next day.
But enough about that! I have been summoned from my splendid porcelain palace Acrapolis to deal with the infidel known as Sir Lord Ainsley the whatever-number-he’s-going-by-today, who has threatened not only me (I AM LOG!!!), but also those of us who happen to like living in the blue states, as well as the innocent who would gladly escape from the red states if only they could afford to but can’t because of the so-called booming economy.
Dear Ainsley,
I AM LOG!!! How dare you interrupt my buttholiest of all holidays, Stooltide, by threatening to wage war against me? I was willing to go away and let the asses of the masses govern themselves for awhile, and now look what’s happened. I can’t even go on vacation without having little turds like you trying to take over the world.
You seem to be under the mistaken impression that you’ve crushed my army. I have news for you; that wasn’t my army. That was merely another recruit which you’ve sent along to its rightful homeland, thank you very much. My Logs of War, along with their Special Flushes Unit, are quite intact and even as I speak are mobilizing in preparation of a bowel movement against you. Your weapons of ass destruction don’t frighten us! Soon you will be surrounded and up to your eyeballs in my wrath! You may want to consider taking your own life now in order to avoid being captured and taken to the wastewater treatment plant, where you will be treated like wastewater.
And don’t think for one minute that hiding behind your butt buddy, George W. is going to save you either. He’s already gone and overflowed two governments and he’s still busy trying to mop up the mess he’s made. I don’t think he really has the time to come to the aid of the likes of you, unless you want to join the National Guard and wind up in a war just like he didn’t.
Prepare to defend yourself. I AM LOG!!! And I will shed my waste on thee!
Guest wrote in with this suggestion:
“As we enter the new millennium perhaps a further upgrade to the sturdy 19th Century backyard furniture would be in order, to take advantage of the loudness of logs jamming. In a word, methane! Back in the days of summer camp, when the sun went down and there was no TV and you'd heard the counselor's campfire stories a few too many times what would be a surefire boredom remedy. Nothing butt fart-lighting! Take a wooden kitchen match hold it close to your vertical smile, let 'er rip and watch the blue flames fly... All that methane wasted like 4th of July fireworks. Why not hook up intake pipes to toilets everywhere and suck all that methane into central receiving stations like the White House, Congress and other hot wind generators? Solve the energy crisis with millions of pauses that refresh!”
A:
Dear Guest,
I AM LOG!!! Your suggestion for solving the energy crisis is interesting, and sounds just plausible enough to give it a try. I will get a hold of the Gastroexitology Department at the University of Log (U of L) and have them put together a prototype for testing.
However, I must warn you of the dangers of lighting one’s own farts. As Tracy (Never had a nickname) McCall always says “You’ll ruin your jeans doing that.” A lot of things can go wrong with fart lighting, and careful precautions should always be followed. For example, never try it while pumping gasoline, and always make sure you’re not too close to the edge of a cliff. Many kids have propelled themselves forward, only to have it end in a fiery crash at the bottom of a cliff.
Another thing you want to watch for is just when you think you’re being safe by shaving your butt to eliminate the fire hazard, you want to be sure that you DON’T use aftershave.
Thank you for your suggestion. I AM LOG!!! May the flush be with you.
Concerned wrote in and asked:
“Dear Log, I have a problem. I have a friend named GW. GW has something stuck very far up his ass. How can GW pull this out of his ass? thank you concerned”
A:
Dear Concerned,
I AM LOG!!! In order to help your friend GW I’ll need a little more information. Do you know what it is that’s up his ass? Can you tell me how it got there in the first place? You didn’t have anything to do with it getting there, did you?
On the other hand, maybe the solution is a lot simpler than it sounds. Is GW unable to stand up straight? Is he unable to look you in the eye? Does his voice sound rather muffled lately? If the answer to these last three questions is “Yes” then my diagnosis would be that GW has his head up his ass. The medical term is “Anal Cranial Inversion (ACI).” This is a common problem with humans on this planet, and I’m afraid that the proverbial solution of “Why don’t you pull your head out of your ass?” can be a lot more difficult than it sounds, and if not done carefully could lead to permanent injury.
What you need to do to help GW is to get him to relax. You’ll need to yell at him to relax because ACI also affects the victim’s hearing. Keep him away from staircases because victims of ACI can easily roll down a flight of stairs due to the way that ACI affects the victim’s vision and posture, and trust me on this one, once they get rolling it’s like tire flying off of a pickup truck down a San Francisco street. You also want to be wary of anything GW might be allergic to because in his present condition sneezing could lead to a serious spinal injury.
Once you have GW completely relaxed, grab him by the ankles and swing him around the room. You may want to make sure you’re in a really big room, unless GW is actually a cat. If you don’t have a big enough room you may have to roll him outside to do this. Anyway, by swinging him around by the ankles the centrifugal force should push his head out of his ass. If this doesn’t work you may need to use a lubricant or some WD-40 to loosen things up a bit.
If the lubricant, WD-40, and swinging him around by the ankles still doesn’t work then I’m afraid you’ll have to take GW to the hospital. He’ll probably need to have his head surgically removed from his ass; the medical term for this Anal Cranialectomy.
Good luck and thank you for your question. I AM LOG!!! A turd in the hand is worth poo in the bush.
Skypilot #92 wrote:
Dear Log, For the crap of it, to be known no madness, or anger was ever involved, (well a little madness on both parts) just difference of vision. This is something to give a crap about, I guess since it's been said. It has been crapped out. thank you
Dear Skypilot #92,
I’m sorry, but you didn’t state your answer in the form of a question.
I AM LOG!!! I have seen the light.
Ah yes, That statement was made some time ago. I have been overwhelmed by my devouring of the flesh of Gods. Yes, I humbly retract my declaration of war upon #18, and bid him well. You though #17, LOG, you will feel my wrath as soon as I digest these Gods. Your King Lord Ainsley IV
Dear Ainsley,
I AM LOG!!! You sure take a long time to digest, and I should know because I AM LOG!!! If Hitler had digested as slow as you do Rommel never would’ve made it out of North Africa, the Bismarck never would’ve made it into the water, and the concentration camps never would’ve been built! Now that I think about it I guess that would’ve been a good thing.
Let’s face it; you’re slower than a three-legged tortoise in a 100-meter hurdle race. You can run, but you can’t hide from me because sooner or later you’ll have to stop running to take a dump, and when you do I’ll be right behind you (ironic how that works, huh?).
I AM LOG!!! Don’t tread on me.
Thy last post was wickedly claiming to be me, but was not so. For I wage War on whomever I desire to; and you Log are in no way a form of intimidation. Lack of wit and the stench that you carry are not worth the very surface I rest my Goblet upon. Drive now your worthlessness into a pit powerful plumbing and lie down your very character for you are defeated. Mi piacere, Sir Lord Ainsley IV
Dear Ainsley,
I AM LOG!!! You should be wary of other people impersonating you. I had that problem once with a kid named Harold. He wanted to grow up to be Log some day. That’s what happens when people like you are allowed to procreate; plenty of time to run around trying to conquer the world but no time for little Harold. The next thing you know the kid turns rebellious and wants to be just like the very enemy you keep claiming to have defeated. Now is that any way to raise a kid?
Fortunately for Harold I was lenient with him, and rather that punish him for impersonating me I forgave him, knowing full well that he’d just get beat up at school anyway because his name is Harold. You probably didn’t take that into consideration when you named him Harold did you? Ah, I can just see it now… poor little Harold on the playground desperately trying to be brave as the big bad bully says:
Bully: My dad can whip your dad!
Harold: Oh yeah? Well my dad is out conquering the world and battling Log!
Bully: So what, your name is still Harold!
And with that the bully throws a fist into Harold’s solar plexus and leaves him lying on the ground gasping for air. Some dad you turned out to be.
I AM LOG!!! “For Log so loved the world that he gave his only begotten roll of TP, so that other’s could have everlasting freedom from dingleberries.” – Log 3:16
Harold....thy only blemish that marks my thrown. Oh how I hast regret ever spending time in Amsterdam. Thy women are quick and cheap but only result in an unworthy offspring and a violent case of Hepatitus A,B, and C. Sir Lord Ainsley IV
Dear Ainsley,
I AM LOG!!! It appears that you and I have a common enemy. Perhaps the time has come to make peace with one another. I’ll tell you what… if you’ll agree to refrain from trying to conquer the world then I’ll agree to join forces with you, and then we can both conquer Amsterdam. You can have the pleasure of exterminating all of the women and children, and I’ll have the pleasure of looting and pillaging the hash bars.
That seems fair. You get what you want; I get what I want, and everybody’s happy, except maybe for the people of Amsterdam, but you can’t please everybody in this day and age.
I AM LOG!!! The butt stops here.
Herman, you numbskulls. My name is Herman.
Dear Herman,
I AM LOG!!! Sorry about getting your name wrong. How are the daily playground beatings coming along?
Trailer Queen asked:
Herman, LOG, Tracy, #17, Sir Lord Ainsley IV, Harold, and any other personalities that may surface; I would like to offer myself in your war against Amsterdam. I know your plan includes destroying all of the women and children, but if raping and pillaging are still your hobbies, that may not be the best idea. I feel I will be protected going with such noble men, and I would like to assist in the looting of the hash bars. I promise I will help, so please give it a thought. I promise I can beat up people, and it might not hurt to have a chick on your side.
Herman wrote:
Well Mr. Log, after I whooped you in the debate all the children willingly give me their lunch money. As for you Trailer Queen, you can assist AND beat me up anytime.
Dear Herman,
I AM LOG!!! You didn’t win the debate you bozo; you lost it not only due to your lame answers to the questions and your lack of a rebuttal, but also due to your admitting who you really are. If you don’t believe me just ask Airy Ace. Which reminds me, what ever happened to Airy Ace?
Rate any at, I don’t have time for snotty little turds like you; I have to prepare to invade Amsterdam.
Yours stooly,
Log
PS. I AM LOG!!!
Dear Trailerqueen,
I AM LOG!!! I agree that having a chick on our side would be a good thing, especially one that doesn’t mind being called a chick. And since you’re not from Amsterdam you should be relatively safe from Ainsley’s murdering and raping.
Personally, I’m only in it for the looting and pillaging of the hash bars, and you’re more than welcome to come along. I’m sure there’s plenty for the both of us.
I AM LOG!!! May the flush be with you.
Dear LOG, What happens to an outhouse when it's put upside down in a crowd of narly bikers? Juss wonderin' Stinky Piss Logenstein Official government of Log affairs. Washington DC
Dear Stinky,
I AM LOG!!! First of all, you really need to concentrate more when you type your name. Is it one G or two? Now then, onto your question… Nothing much actually happens to the outhouse; however, the results of turning an outhouse upside down in a crowd of gnarly bikers depend on two variable factors:
Who actually turned the outhouse upside down?
Who is inside the outhouse when it’s turned upside down?
If the outhouse is turned upside down by someone who is NOT a member of the gnarly biker group, then the results will most likely involve a lot of pain, bleeding, a ride in an ambulance, or a visit to the Coroner’s Office, and quite possibly the need for removal of the outhouse from the rectum of whoever turned the outhouse upside down in the first place. On the other hand, if the outhouse is turned upside down by an actual member of the gnarly biker group, then it will most likely be seen as just a gag, all in the name of good clean fun, and they’ll probably be as pleased as plump pot-bellied pigs prostrate in a plush pile of putrid poo.
Now then, here’s where it all gets complicated. If the person inside the outhouse is NOT a member of the gnarly biker group, then it really doesn’t matter who turned it upside down because the gnarly biker group will probably laugh anyway regardless of any spillage that may land on them. If the person inside the outhouse IS a member of the gnarly biker group, and the outhouse is turned upside down by a fellow member of the gnarly biker group, then once again it will be seen as being all good clean fun. However, if the person inside the outhouse IS a member of the gnarly biker group, and the person who turns the outhouse upside down is NOT a member of the gnarly biker group, then once again it will involve the ambulance/Coroner’s Office/Outhouse removal from the rectum scenario.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
PS. As for your second message, you took the turds right out of my mouth. Please return them at once.
Dear Log, How many turds does Paul's motorhome hold and why is Paul such an asshole? Sorry about asking 2 questions . Please grace us with your waste and whizz-dom reguarding this matter. Thanks, Farty Gas Johnson
Dear Farty,
I AM LOG!!! Hey, didn’t you use to be on that TV show Rowan and Fartin’s Laugh-In? I loved that show! Anyway, things have been pretty slow around here at my majestic porcelain Palace Acrapolis, and since I’ve always been a big fan of yours I’ll allow you two questions.
Now then, the answer to your first question: Paul’s motorhome doesn’t hold any turds because he drove over a curb or something and broke the plug to the septic tank. So now, turds just drop right out of his motorhome just as fast as they drop out of him. It’s almost as if Paul’s motorhome has become a giant butthole on wheels.
To answer your second question I’ll have to use one of Paul’s favorite quotes which goes “I’m only Jewish from the waist down.” Since assholes are usually located just below the waist, Paul is forced to eat with his non-Jewish top half, and take a dump with his lower Jewish half. An internal conflict like this is bound to make a person irritable as hell. This also makes me wonder whether or not being Jewish from the waist down means his turds are kosher. I’ll have to get a hold of somebody at the Feceology Department at the University of Log (U of L) and find out, although, it might be a lot funnier to call up a Rabbi and ask him. I’ll tell you what; I’ll give both ideas a try and get back to you with the results.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your questions.
PS. Do you think I could get your snotograph?
Dear Log. You are known to be good friends with Tracy (never had a nickname) McCall. I was wondering? Now that the Paulie Family has officially and permanently broken up, I have heard a rumor that Tracy is putting together another band with washed up 60's rock star Paul McFartney and they are currently working on an album called "Band With The Runs? Is this true ? We await your answer. Dead Sledd 666 Butthole Dr. Sewage City, OR.
Dear Dead,
I AM LOG!!! I asked Tracy about whether or not he was working on a new project with former Dung Beetle, Paul McFartney, but Tracy said that is completely wrong and that he’s actually hoping to do some work with former Dung Beetle, George Hairybum, however, George hasn’t returned any of Tracy’s phone calls. For that matter, George hasn’t been retuning anybody’s phone calls since he died back in 2001, but you know how persistent Tracy can be.
Tracy’s new manager, Piston McCauffey, did confirm that Tracy would continue to write songs for Jerry Reynolds, however, Jerry disappeared after a performance in Amsterdam, and rumor has it that he was actually kidnapped and is being held for ransom. There is still yet another rumor that a ship is presently on its way to Amsterdam, and that one of the passengers, disguised as a pirate, is actually on a secret covert mission to rescue Jerry Reynolds, however, Jerry Reynolds’ manager, Mubuht Smelzbaad, has denied that there is any sort of rescue mission underway, and hopes that Jerry’s kidnappers won’t do anything too perverted to Jerry while he’s in captivity because you know how open-minded those Dutch can be.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. And on yet another musical note…
I’m gonna tell you how it’s gonna be
I’m gonna need another roll of TP
I’m gonna flush all night and day
You know my log will not flush away.
My log is bigger than a Cadillac
It tore me a brand new butt crack
This TP better be two-ply
Take my word for it, don’t ask why.
A log this big will not flush away.
A log this big will not flush away.
Pilot 18 asked:
Dear LOG, Is it true that you make $47 million dollars a year writing insurance forms for people that are stricken with terminal diarrhea ? Or is it just one of your many duties living up to the LOG Logacy that is required by law and the King of Loggenstein.? Sorry if this seems like two questions but enquiring minds want to know?
Dear Pilot,
I AM LOG!!! First of all, there is no King of Loggenstein. There is only one true Log, and that is me (I AM LOG!!!). Beware of false Logs lest they offer you exploding lawn cigars.
Secondly, as Log (I AM LOG!!!) I don’t have to work at a real job; I pretty much just sit around here in my majestic Porcelain Acrapolis and tend to my doo doo duties. The one who makes $47 million dollars a year is Tracy (Never had a nickname) McCall, who works in the big building with the statue of naked people out front, although, I understand he got a raise so I’m not sure how much he makes now.
Speaking of the big building with the statue of naked people out front (and I was), today they had a guy out front steam cleaning the statue, and he appeared to be having an awfully good time doing it, especially when he steam cleaned all the naughty parts. Apparently, that’s as close as he’s ever been to a real woman. But now I’m straying off of the subject…
Now then, your question involves insurance forms for people stricken with terminal diarrhea. So I asked Tracy about it and he explained that if the diarrhea is terminal then it counts as a pre-existing condition, and therefore it is not covered by any policy, however, the diarrhea itself can actually cover the policy if you’re not careful. So it’s important not to leave your policy anywhere where you might sit down on it. Tracy says it’s also important that if you do suffer from terminal diarrhea you should take lots of antihistamines because you want to avoid any sneezing fits, and as Tracy always says “You’ll ruin your jeans doing that.”
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. May the turd of paradise fertilize your lawn.
Trailer Queen asked:
I thought log got eaten by a shark trying to save me. What's going on in Amsterdam?
Fart O Stinkenstein asked:
Dear Log, 2 part question 1st part Amsterdam is in Holland. And Holland is the land of dykes. And there is no damn dam in Amsterdam. So why is the city not named Amsterdyke.? 2nd part what do fat lesbians have to say about this? (I couldn't find a fat lesbian on short notice to answer the 2nd part so you'll have to do do (doo doo)
Dear Trailer Queen,
I AM LOG!!! But you already knew that. If you had read all the way to the end of Chapter 3 of The Invasion of Amsterdam you would know that I have once again thwarted death. You know, now that I think about it, this is the second time that you’ve thought I was dead… oh ye of little faith! So I’ll explain it to you one more time. Flushing me only leads to my rebirth; that’s why you always have to take a dump again the next day. The same theory holds true with being eaten by a shark; what goes in must come out (for further examples see the earlier question regarding rattlesnakes).
Folks, if you pay more attention I won’t have to explain everything twice and the show will be a whole lot funnier.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. Think outside the butt.
Dear Fart O,
I AM LOG!!! What in the hell do lesbians have to do with turds, other than the fact that they make them just like anybody else? Folks, your questions are beginning to stray way off the topic (Amsterdyke… Jesus Christ!), and you could work a little bit harder on making up funny names! I was going to say that if you have questions regarding lesbians to call the Ellen DeGeneres Show, but then I actually thought of an answer to the question.
You see, it’s like this… A dyke is a small dam, and a dam is a really big dyke, which why such phrases as “Last night I got beat up by the biggest damn dyke I’ve ever seen in my life” got started. As for the second part of your question… what do you mean you couldn’t find a fat lesbian on short notice? Portland, Oregon is full of them. Just follow the shaved heads and nose rings.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. Due to the lack of quality questions the one question at a time rule is hereby back in effect.
Dear Log, this is a big question. How many turds are there in the entire world ? And don't make fun of my name. I'm Jewish Thanks, Smiley
Dear Smiley,
I AM LOG!!! You claim to be Jewish, and it’s always been my understanding that Jews are excellent accountants, and yet you don’t know how many turds there are in the entire world? I’m really disappointed, and yet, I’m also glad that my Attorney at Log isn’t Jewish (he’s a Druid) because thanks to you I’ve now lost my confidence in all things Hebrew. It’s no wonder the Israeli government is full of schmucks.
Alright then pay attention because I’m only going to explain this once…
If you take the current world population (CWP) of 6.416 billion and multiply by the average daily turds per person output (ADTPPO) of 1.5 you get a minimum daily turd production (MDTP) of 9.624 billion.
Now here’s where it gets complicated…
Since only half of the world’s population has access to indoor plumbing and waste treatment plants, that means that there is a daily leftover turd index (DLTI) of the CWP divided by 2 multiplied by the ADTPPO, you then multiply that by the DLTI multiplied by the unflushed turd lifespan (UTL) which is 7 days = the current leftover turd index (CLTI).
If you take the ADTPPO of the other half of the CWP that does have indoor plumbing and waste treatment plants, then you take the CWP divided by 2 and multiply by the life span of a turd sentenced to be treated like wastewater (TSTBTLW) which is 3 days = the current turds in holding (CTID).
There is one more factor to add to this equation and that is the fact that every second of every day, there are 111,389 newly created turds per second (TPS) multiplied by the current time of day = the up-to-the-second additional turd tally (UTTSATT).
So in order to calculate the current total turd census (CTTC) the equation works like this:
(MDTP + CLTI) + (CLTI + CTID) + (TPS x UTTSATT) = CTTC Since you’re Jewish I’m assuming you know how to do algebra.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
PS. Don’t count your turds before they’re hatched; you’ll screw up the whole equation.
Dear Log, I have been trying to find the lyrics to the hit song by Johnny Riversofshit. You know that great hit song "High On A Mountain Of Logs". can you help in this matter,? Thanks Dog Breath
Dear Dog Breath,
I AM LOG!!! Ah yes, one of my all-time favorite songs. I don’t actually have the version by Johnny Riversofshit, but I do have the song on an old Paulie Family CD. Here are the lyrics:
Sitting on a mountain watching waste water treatment
Seems like a waste of a whole lot of cement
Every time it rains it all floods into the river
Changing all the water to the color of your liver
It used to be efficient
It's now gone to the dogs
High on a mountain of logs.
All day and night as the toilets keep a flushin'
Causing all the whiz and doo doo to rush in
This creates a tide that washes poo into a pile
Building to a mountain stretching skyward for a mile
So I spend all my time here
High above the smog
High on a mountain of logs.
A mountain of logs
A mountain of logs
We should be ashamed
They used to be inside you and me
But now they roam free untamed.
Way down below there's a half a million turds
Stuck inside an outhouse that you can't describe with words
Inside the outhouse there's an empty roll of TP
Hanging on a wall that is covered with graffiti
That's why I sit up here
Like a demagogue
High on a mountain of logs.
A mountain of logs
A mountain of logs
We should be ashamed
They used to be contained in you and me
But now they roam free, untamed.
Way down below there's a half a million turds
Stuck inside an outhouse that you can't describe with words
Inside the outhouse there's an empty roll of TP
Hanging on a wall that is covered with graffiti
That's why I sit up here
Like a demagogue
High on a mountain of logs
High on a mountain of logs
High on a mountain of logs.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
PS. I saw The Paulie Family play that song live at Portland Flushing Meadows back in 2002; I had a front row toilet seat.
Dear Log, How much is a pack of lawn cigars on the open market going for these days. ?????? Thanks George (you better not be a circus midget) Liquor.
Dear George,
I AM LOG!!! There really isn’t much of a market for lawn cigars because so many people grow their own. There are, however, certain characteristics to watch for in a really good quality lawn cigar. The main thing to look for is a nice tight roll; this is important because without a good tight roll a lawn cigar will fall apart. You want to avoid shopping the flat level lawns because they all generally use the drop method. For a really tightly rolled lawn cigar you should always shop on a hill because lawn cigars roll downhill.
Another quality to look for in a good lawn cigar is firmness; this comes with proper aging. A lawn cigar that is too fresh or “uncured” will probably droop and break in half before you can get it lit. In contrast, a lawn cigar that is too dry will burn up like a fuse on a firecracker and could wind up blowing up in your face. When this happens you want to store your lawn cigars in a good humidifier, or you can just turn on your lawn sprinkler for a couple of minutes. One other thing to keep in mind is that you should never pour bacon grease on your lawn cigars because the neighbor’s dog will eat them.
With all of this newfound information you’re probably thinking to yourself “Gee Log, how can I grow my own lawn cigars?” Well the secret is in the dog; if you don’t have a dog then you can’t produce good quality lawn cigars. And of course, the quality of the dog will directly reflect upon the quality of the lawn cigar that comes out of it. Small dogs are pretty much useless unless you prefer to smoke your lawn cigars in a bong. The bigger the dog the bigger the lawn cigar. Personally I recommend Great Danes because not only do they produce extra dense lawn cigars that really pick up momentum when rolling down a hill and make for really extra tight rolls, but also because Great Danes make much much funnier faces whenever a lawn cigar drops out of them.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
Dear Log, How do you keep a lawn cigar lit? Especially on a rainy day? Thanks, Scotch Booze Hound (never a sober moment)
Dear Scotch,
I AM LOG!!! There are two main problems with actually smoking a lawn cigar: 1. You can get log cancer and/or fart disease; 2. Even a really good well-cured, slow burning lawn cigar can be hard as hell to draw through, and therefore, difficult to keep lit.
Solving the second problem is actually pretty easy; all you have to do is feed your dog that fake icicle stuff that people put on their Christmas trees (don’t worry, dogs actually like that stuff). When your dog deposits a fresh lawn cigar all you have to do is pull out the fake icicle stuff (it pulls out much easier when the lawn cigar is still fresh and warm). This will enable you to get a good clean draw through the lawn cigar, and once it’s been properly cured it should provide you with hours of slow burning pleasure.
As far as keeping your lawn cigar lit on a rainy day, you’ll find it stays lit real good if you simply smoke indoors. Sometimes this solution is confounded by local laws that ban smoking in public places. That’s why here in my splendid porcelain Palace Acrapolis I refuse to discriminate against smokers, and instead I force all the non-smoking visitors and tourists to stay outside when they’re not smoking so that they don’t bother the visitors and tourists that do smoke.
Now going back to the first problem, there are people out there who will say “But Log,” (I AM LOG!!!) “Isn’t smoking bad for your health?” Well of course it is, but do you have any idea how hard it is for my Turdgeon General to go around following every dog on the planet so that he can stick a warning label on every lawn cigar that falls to the ground? Oh sure, I could hire more assistants to help out, but then I’d have to raise the Turd Tax in order to pay for it, and I think the taxpayers are already taking it in the pants as it is.
And of course, there are always those people who say “Okay, but I didn’t inhale.” So in order to put the situation into the right context I want you to imagine President Bush at a press conference declaring “Yes, I did smoke a lawn cigar in college, but I didn’t inhale.”
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
Dear LOG, How many turds DOES THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE HOLD? I really have to know because it seems I bit off more than I could chew. Thanks, GOD
Dear God,
I AM LOG!!! You know for a supreme being you sure do sloppy work. What in the hell were you thinking when you created this universe? Hold on, let me guess; it was probably something like this… “Gee I think I’ll create a universe with over a billion different life forms, and all of them poo. And then I’ll make all of the smarter ones worship me! BRILLIANT!!!”
And now here we are, a universe full of assholes made in your image and they’re all pumping out poo faster than you can say “Armageddon”; I hope you’re proud of yourself. And now you come running to me to find out how many turds there are in the entire universe. Well I’m sorry, but my jurisdiction is limited to this planet; if you want to know how many turds there are in the entire universe you’re going to have to put more people on the job.
I’m really surprised that you didn’t think about this way back when the dinosaurs were crapping left and right for 150 million years. Oh sure, I’m as guilty of procrastination as anybody else BUT 150 MILLION YEARS OF DINOSAUR TURDS AND YOU’RE JUST NOW REQUESTING A UNIVERSAL CENSUS???!!! JESUS CHRIST!!!... I mean… oh, you know what I mean and so does he!
Okay, here’s what I’ll do… I’m going to have to audit all of your records going all the way back to the big butt theory when just before Log (I AM LOG!!!) said “Let there be light.” And starting from there and going forward to when Log stuck his head out the sphincter and said “Oh, there’s the light” and he sprang forth and the universe came into being. From there I’ll have to check every asshole you’ve ever created to determine just how many turds came from each and every asshole you’ve ever created. It’s gonna take some time, and you’re going to have to pay me a shitload of overtime pay, but that’s the price you have to pay for not keeping better accounting records.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. “For Log so loved the world that he gave his only begotten roll of TP so that others may have eternal freedom from dingleberries.” Log 3:16.
Lucifer asked:
Dear Log, I have been on an extended vaction (who wants to hang out in Hell?). In that time I have completely lost track of out turd arrivial system here in Hell. My question is, can we get our turds back? Cheers Loggie
Dear Lucifer,
I AM LOG!!! Your statement as well as your question do not make any sense, so let’s see if we can sort this out. You went on an extended vacation and didn’t delegate responsibility for “out turd arrival system”? I assume you mean “our turd arrival system.” Folks, if you proofread yourselves a little better and use your goddamn grammar and spellcheckers I could spend less time trying to figure out your questions. You then proceed to ask “can we get our turds back?” It seems to me that both you and God need to work on your organizational skills.
So let’s set the record straight. First of all, you don’t need a turd arrival system in hell because dead people don’t poo; that’s why they’re dead. And it’s a good thing too, because if dead people did poo then hell would be an even shittier place than it already is. Secondly, turds don’t go to hell because they’re reborn after the flushing process; that’s why you always have to take a dump again the next day. Folks, if you pay more attention I won’t have to keep repeating myself like this.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
PS. Don’t call me Loggie.
Dear Loggie, Why if you don't want to be called Loggie why are you encouraging people to call you Loggie? You know if folks find out what you hate they're more likely to call you Loggie. Look what adding gie to the end of a name. Snoop Doggie Loggie make a fortune off of just such a turd of events. PooP Loggie Log. Now that's got a real show business ring to it. Pilot the shit here in stacks of 18
Dear Pilot 18,
I AM LOG!!! Look Fatso, a few months ago you were the one complaining that Ask Log wasn’t funny anymore, and yet here you are again with yet another completely unfunny question. I don’t need to add “gie” to the end of my name in order to make it big in show business… I AM LOG!!!
Why can’t you ask more in-depth questions like the ones Airy Ace use to ask? And where is Airy Ace anyway? Why doesn’t anybody ever ask if a bear really does shit in the woods? The answer is actually a lot more complex than you might think. Or why doesn’t anybody ever ask advice concerning consumer products like the Chimney Sweeping Log? You’d be amazed by my answer to that. You would even think that at least one person would want to know why some turds float and others don’t, or why Baby Ruth candy bars look so much like turds, but noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo… all I get is math questions involving the Turd Holding Capacity (THC) of ever increasingly larger containers, and requests to make my name sound more like someone who wins awards for making bad music.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for making me depressed with your question.
Pilot 18 asked:
They call him Loggie Loggie Faster than lightning Taking a pee right on to a tree. They call him Loggie Logie Taking a dump you can't see Because he's under the sea They call him Loggie Loggie Drinking his own pee Right under the sea
Dear Pilot 18,
I AM LOG!!! That had to be the absolute worst song I’ve ever heard; you should work for The Paulie Family.
I AM LOG!!! I am what you eat.
Ryan asked:
Log, you don't know your ass from a hole in the ground. Does a log have an ass?
Dear Ryan,
I AM LOG!!! I do too know my ass from a hole in the ground! In fact, I give weekly lectures at the University of Log (U of L) on that very topic. Granted, I do occasionally mistake the hole in the ground for my elbow, but that’s a different matter. And of course I have an ass, if I didn’t I wouldn’t be able to demonstrate the difference between it and a hole in the ground during my lectures.
You know, a lot of people out there are probably wondering how the old saying “You don’t know your ass from a hole in the ground” got started. Well the story goes something like this…
Once upon a time there was a guy named Larry. This is not the same guy named Larry that invented the outhouse; however, both of their stories are very similar. Larry had a job of running around and getting things for people who were too lazy to get off their asses and get it themselves and it kept him pretty busy.
One particularly busy day, Larry had been running around all day long and he hadn’t even had a chance to take a dump yet. So he went to his supervisor to complain. His supervisor told him to go ahead and take a dump, but to hurry back because he had more work for Larry to do and he didn’t have all freakin’ day to wait for Larry. So Larry ran over to the employee’s hole in the ground, which didn’t have an outhouse built over it yet, crapped as fast as he could and then hurried back to the supervisor without even stopping to wipe his ass.
When Larry reported back to his supervisor, the supervisor immediately noticed that Larry hadn’t bothered to wipe his ass, and immediately ordered Larry to go back and do the paperwork. So Larry went back over to the employee’s hole in the ground and noticed that the roll of toilet paper was hanging on a stick over the hole. Larry reached out as far as he could and grabbed the toilet paper, but he lost his balance and fell into the hole. The supervisor, who witnessed the whole thing, walked over to the employee’s hole in the ground, looked down at Larry in the hole holding the roll of TP and said “Jesus Christ, Larry, you don’t know your ass from a hole in the ground!”
The expression caught on and spread like wildfire, and soon Larry couldn’t even walk down the street without somebody accusing him of not knowing his ass from a hole in the ground. Eventually, Larry was arrested and convicted of starting wildfires which burned up all of the farms and the crops of the people who kept making fun of him.
One day in prison Larry fell down a flight of stairs really hard and wound up with his elbow stuck in his ass. This of course led people to accuse Larry of not knowing his ass from his elbow. Despondent over being the butt of everyone else’s jokes, Larry hung himself. Ironically, Larry wound up being buried in his own ass by a group of fellow prisoners who also couldn’t tell their asses (or Larry’s for that matter) from a hole in the ground.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
Pilot 18 asked:
Hey Loggie, if I want to worship a false idol I'l look at Anna Nick-hole Smith. Now here's a good question. WHAT DOES LOG LOOK LIKE ? is he a brown slimey dude that smells like crap or is some kind of power hungry weirdo that sit's on a golden throne (that hasen't been cleaned in years I might add). Hey Loggie old boy. Post a picture of yourself so we can either make fun of you or worship you as a false idol (or was that Eric Idle?). Just saying you're the man behind the (shower) curtain ain't gonna fly. or as yer old pal that guitar dude used to say "That turd don't float round here"
Dear Pilot 18,
I AM LOG!!! As you probably already know, turds are a lot like snowflakes except for the fact that they fall at a much greater rate of speed. In other words, no two turds are exactly alike. Because of that, I (I AM LOG!!!) am very much chameleonic in my appearance, a downright shape-shifter I can be, and often am. Unfortunately, I’m not very photogenic. In fact, every picture of me makes me look like crap.
Speaking of crap, the song was called That Crap Don’t Float ‘Round Here, and it went like this…
That Crap Don't Float 'Round Here Copyright 1/02 by Zimmon/McCall
Don't start with me with your whining and complaining
Don't piss on my leg and tell me it's raining
Don't crap in my chair
And say it was a bear
Don't barf in my garden
And leave it to harden
Don't even think about drinking my last beer
'Cos that crap don't float 'round here.
You think you're so smart 'cos you can light your own fart
You even brag how you've nearly blown yourself apart
In public it's rude
To act so crude
And you can ruin your jeans and torch your scrotum
But if you don't mind then go ahead and load em'
But first you better leave so get your ass in gear
'Cos that crap don't float 'round here.
I got some pretty bad news for you
You can't just hollow out a log
And make a canoe
So take your butt log boat
And ram it down your throat
And you know it's gonna sink like a full can of beer
'Cos that crap don't float 'round here.
I saw you last night and I knew you were dense
'Cos you were standing there whizzing on my electric fence
And then you took a big dump and I turned white as a ghost
As you wiped your butt on my electric fence post
So I ran into my house and I got my gun
And I returned in time 'cos you were finally done
And I shot you where you stood like a white-tailed deer
'Cos that crap don't float 'round here.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
PS. I was just looking at your picture on the album cover, is that your real hair?
Pilot 18 asked:
hey Loggie, How did that famous band "The Yard Turds" get their name? I know I'm not allowed a follow up question so just to piss you off here is one anyway. In which yard did the orignal Yard Turds come from.?? I won't bother to ask which offending animal laid the orignal yard turd. Just the location.
Dear Pilot 18,
I AM LOG!!! Originally The Yardturds called themselves The Lawn Cigars. This was back when they had their original guitar player, Anthony “Plop” Plopham. He was quickly replaced by Eric “Stickyhand” Crapton.” Eric convinced them that The Lawn Cigars was a stupid name for a band, so they changed it to The Yardturds. The rest, they say, is history.
Which yard did the original Yardturds come from? The front yard, of course.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
Dear Log, Is it true that Paul really can play the guitar? Tanks Rock Fan and sorry about posting this in the wrong spot(orignally). So don't fucken come out here and beat me up or shoot at me with a real gun. Or I will have to kill you. Just ask Deadbag Darrel.
Dear Rock Fanny,
I AM LOG!!! Yes, Paul really can play the guitar. Unfortunately, he always plays it when you’re trying to listen to a really good song, and listening to the both of them at the same time is a lot like listening to a really bad Grateful Dead performance.
Fortunately, whenever he actually plays before a live audience it’s usually an audience full of Deadheads that can’t tell the difference.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
Dear Log,
I saw a commercial on TV for a Chimney Sweeping Log. It sounded too good to be true so I decided to check it out. I followed the directions on the label, but my chimney is still dirty. Is the Chimney Sweeping Log a scam, or did I do something wrong?
Guy Lumbago
Dear Guy,
I AM LOG!!! Those commercials are completely misleading. They show the Chimney Sweeping Logs being placed it the fireplace and then lit on fire. Supposedly, the smoke travels up your chimney and “magically” sweeps away all the soot and creosote. I can assure you that this is NOT the way the Chimney Sweeping Logs were designed to work.
In order to get the optimum results from a Chimney Sweeping Log, you must first eat the log, and then climb up on your roof and take a dump down your chimney. I recommend that you do this at night since taking a dump down your chimney in broad daylight is bound to get the neighbor’s attention, and they’re bound to call the police. And believe me, when the police show up and see you crapping in your chimney and ask you what you’re doing, and you reply that you’re cleaning your chimney, there’s bound to be trouble.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
Dear Log, Does your chewing gum lose it's flavor on the bed post overnignt? Thanks, Spanky D. Monkee
Dear Spanky,
I AM LOG!!! Chewing gum has nothing to do with turds, unless you can swallow it and blow a bubble out your ass, in which case I’d like to sign you up for the Log Olympics.
I AM LOG!!!
Log Imposter wrote:
I will answer this since Tracy's smarter half has taken over his forum. No it doesn't.
Dear Log Imposter,
I AM LOG!!! Y’know, if you, Zaul, and Bryan would spend as much time supporting the Democratic Party as you spend trying to overflow my government then this country wouldn’t be in the mess it’s in now. Which reminds me, how’s the state of Ohio leaning these days?
I AM LOG!!!
Dear Log, As you know we live at Paul's house. (actually we let him live in our house) Every time Paul goes to take a dump we go into the bathroom and try to smell how big his turds are. They sure have been smelling big lately. But since we're only house cats and he never actually lets us look at his turds. We want to know the GOLDEN question. How many turds does Paul hold ? And how big is an average example. Meeowwwooo Scooter & Bongo (the cats)
Dear Scooter & Bongo,
I AM LOG!!! As cats your questions are well founded. Humans are notorious for being judgmental about the things that come out of their pets… where they do it, when they do it, how much of it did they do, which end did it come out of, and how long has it been there? But as soon as a human needs to expel some bodily waste they get all hush-hush about it and hide behind locked doors, and then they have the convenience of flushing away the evidence before curiosity has the opportunity to kill the cat.
Remember that time when you crapped on Paul’s pillow and he rubbed your nose in it? Well you’d be surprised just how often he’s done that himself, but does he punish himself for it? Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo… And the so-called “shaving cream on the toilet seat” incident? It’s a good thing you were watching him or he would’ve tried to blame that on you too.
But your question is not about Paul’s poor aiming skills (by the way… if you adjust the cross-hairs on his butt it should fix that problem right up), your question involves Paul’s Turd Holding Capacity (THC) and how big an average sample is. This is actually two questions, but since you’re two cats I’ll allow one question each.
Humans in general hold around 1.5 turds at any given time; the extra .5 is often referred to as the “satellite”, “after birth”, or “turdlette.” The Initial Turd Unit (ITU) can often vary depending on the host’s diet. In Paul’s case, the average ITU is about the same size as one of his cats; you may want to take that into consideration the next time you stick your nose in his dinner plate.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your questions.
Ryan wrote:
That is just F'in gross.
Dear Bryan,
I AM LOG!!! “That is just f’in gross” is not a proper question, but I’ll respond to it anyway. Y’know, it was YOUR IDEA to have me stay on this freakin’ board, and now here you are complaining about it. If you hadn’t capitalized “F’in” I’d think you were Paul what with all your whining.
While I do respect your opinion I have to say that your sense of what is gross is setting the bar way too low for somebody your age. If you think Paul’s cats inquiring about the size of Paul’s turds is gross then you’ve obviously never seen Paul in his boxer shorts. For that matter, you’ve never been around when Paul emptied the sewage tank on his motorhome. Granted, he broke the sewage tank on his motorhome so it empties automatically now, but you should’ve been around when it still had a good respectable Turd Holding Capacity (THC).
I could go on and on listing things that are far grosser than a cat inquiring about the size of a human turd, but I think I’ve made my point.
I AM LOG!!! Next time, remember to ask a question!
Dear Log, When a human is full of shit, are they holding more turds than they bargained for? Tanks, Cow Stomach Soup
Arthur asked:
Dear Log , Is it true you have the Holy Grail? Oh yes, it's quite nice. (in a heavy French accent) I don't beleive you. Can we have a look at it?
Dear Cow,
I AM LOG!!! Two things that differentiate humans from animals is the human’s amazing Turd Holding Capacity (THC), and the fact that only humans will actually store up turds for no apparent reason. Oh sure, there are animals that can make bigger turds with greater frequency, but let’s face it, animals have no motivation for storing up turds.
Generally speaking, if a human stores up turds for about a week without taking a dump they reach a point where they become “full of shit.” This condition can make humans very unpredictable and/or irritable. Humans who have this condition can be very dangerous to the unsuspecting people that live by the code of “If God wanted humans to be full of shit he wouldn’t have given them assholes.”
There are two ways to tell if a human is full of shit…
The way they walk. People who are full of shit have to keep a tight hold on their safeties. As Tracy (Never had a nickname) McCall always says “Don’t let your safety off; you’ll ruin your jeans doing that.” Any type of movement, especially walking, requires a concerted effort in keeping the sphincter closed.
The way they talk. This is how the term “Diarrhea of the mouth” got started. You can only keep your safety on for so long until everything backs up to its original point of origin.
So to answer your question, no they’re not necessarily holding more turds than they bargained for; the correct term would be that they’ve bitten off more than they can poo.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
Dear Arthur,
I AM LOG!!! No, what I have is the Holy Bedpan. It is said to be the very bedpan that Jesus used the morning after the Last Supper. It used to contain the Last Turd and the Last TP, but the Catholics got a hold of those and they’re hiding them in The Vatican.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
Dear Log, It is well known that salmon swim upstream to spawn. My question is can a turd swim upstream to reproduce also ??? (it's interesting to note that at the Bonnville Dam they have a fish ladder as well as a log ladder. But I don't think the log ladder has ever been used. As in a matter of fact I don't even think they took it out of the box.) Thanks Mr. Ralph C. Toilet Swirling Brown Water North Dakota, telephone---867-5309
Dear Log, My Mommy says yer nasty. Is that true? Lil Bobby
Dear Log, Even though I am a man of the cloth (ok,it's just an old dirty table cloth) I was wondering about that last supper everyone speaks of. I could not find the answer in the Holy Bible. What I want to know is, did that last supper come out of Jesus's butt or was he just kidding when he said "Don't cross me or I'll get really mad!" Needless to say the Romans called his bluff and crossed him like he'd never have been crossed before, or will ever again for that matter. Thanks my Son, Rev. Trunk Monkey
Dear Ralph,
I AM LOG!!! It’s true that fish and turds are similar in the fact that they both spend a hell of a lot of time in the water. However, that’s pretty much where the similarities end. A salmon hatches in the river and then swims all the way to the ocean where it spends most of its life fattening up for the trip back home. At spawning time they swim all the freakin’ way back to the same place they were born, do the jiggy, and then die.
Turds on the other hand, do not hatch, and it’s a good thing too because if they did you would have to take a dump and then sit on it until it hatches, and nobody really has time for that. Turds don’t spawn either, and that’s also a good thing because if they did you’d have to keep reflushing them. It is not necessary for turds to reproduce because the flushing process leads to rebirth; that’s why you always have to take a dump again the next day. Folks, this is the third time I’ve had to explain this, please try to pay better attention because it will make things a whole lot easier when you have to tell your children about the turds and the pees.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
PS. I did use the Log Ladder once at Bonneville Dam, but security chased me down and demanded to know who I was and what I was doing there. I told them I was Log (I AM LOG!!!) and that it was my damn ladder and I could use it any damn time I felt like it. They said if I ever go back there again they’d beat the crap out of me.
Dear Bobby,
I AM LOG!!! The problem with your mommy (and most mommies in general) is that they all think that anything that comes out of the human body is nasty. Turds, whiz, boogers, vomit, you name it and bigger than shit your mommy will think it’s nasty.
However, you yourself came out of your mommy’s body, but does she think you’re nasty? Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo… In fact, after you came out of her she gave you a name, stuck you in a stroller, and wheeled you around the neighborhood to show you off to everybody else. If that isn’t disgusting enough, you know how she always tucks you into bed and kisses you goodnight? Well rest assured that if you knew where your daddy’s penis has been you’d never let your mommy’s lips touch your face ever again.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
Dear Reverend,
I AM LOG!!! Of course the Last Supper came out of Jesus’ butt; that’s why he had to use the Holy Bedpan the next morning. Folks, if you’d follow the timeline on this string I wouldn’t have to keep answering the same questions.
I AM LOG!!! Please ask a newer question.
Dear Arthur,
I AM LOG!!! It’s not a Holy Toilet Grail; it’s a Holy Bedpan. Folks, are you starting to see a pattern here? Furthermore, I’m unable to join you in your quest because I’m currently booked on an invasion of Amsterdam.
I would join you on your quest when I return from Amsterdam, but then we’d be looking for a Holy Toilet Grail that doesn’t exist, and I don’t need to look for a Holy Bedpan because I’ve already got one.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
PS. I don’t need a king… I AM LOG!!!
Dear Log, Is it true that after playing a rain shortened set with the famous band "Woodknot" that Paul (refuses to have a nickname) Zimmon got the old Paulie Family tour bus stuck in 300 feet of shit? Thanks, Pilot 18
Dear Pilot 18,
I AM LOG!!! Actually, he got tour bus stuck before he played the set. I told him to never play a gig at the Hollywood Toilet Bowl, especially in the rain, but did he listen? Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo… Oddly enough, the spectacle of getting the tour bus back out the shit was even more entertaining than the actual show, and it lasted longer too. Roto-Rooter Towing made a small fortune on that job.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
Dear Log, could you please explain the spectacle in greater detail? I am just very curious. Thanks Ryan
Dear Byron,
I AM LOG!!! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeell I’ll tell ya’… it all happened like this…
It was the first time that former Paulie Family members Paul (Refuses to have a nickname) Zimmon and Tracy (Never had a nickname) McCall have appeared in public together since creative differences drove them both to the brink of insanity at the end of last year. Tracy did not perform at this event because one of the requirements was that you actually have to be able to play an instrument, and he left his kazoo at home.
My question is, where did the ask Log thread go to.? I changed my name and wear log tee shirts and special LOG underpants that prevent leakage. All this talk of the great LOG and now he seems to have fallen off the face of this shitty planet. Log needs to rear his ugly behind (pun intended) and get back to the business of being LOG. Shit, you'd think the guy had a job or something. Turdy, I am a (shit hits the) fan of LOG. (oh my god !) or is it oh my LOG? where my exlax when I really need it?
Dear Turdy,
I AM LOG!!! I am pleased that you’ve shown a keen interest in the matters of all things Log-related. In fact, I’m so pleased that I’ve added your name to my list of potential scholarship recipients to the University of Log (U of L). However, your failure to take the initiative to scroll down a measly eight strings to find the original Ask Log string and thereby answer your own question is very disappointing. Therefore, I’ve removed your name from my list of potential scholarship recipients to the University of Log (U of L).
In other news… you’ll be happy to know that Log (I AM LOG!!!) and his Special Wastewater and Turd (SWAT) Team have identified the suspect in the Case of The Overturned Port-A-Pottie. Yes folks, it seems that the evil Professor A.D. Imodium was behind it all along. But don’t you worry none, we’ve picked up his scent and we’re hot on his trail, and it’s only a matter of time till he graduates from the Northwest Bartending Academy and he spends the rest of his life behind bars.
I AM LOG!!! Be true to your stool.
Damn it. I really needed that schorshit. Now I'll have to get a stu-turd-ent loan. But the sewage plant student loans have been eliminated under the bullshit administration. Oh woe is me,,,,,and where do I pee Just like a dog I must go now, and make a log all hot and steamy
Dear Turdy,
I AM LOG!!! Don’t worry about the student loans; you may very well qualify for a special grunt under my Funding and Administrative Resources for Tuition (FART) program. Just fill in the questionnaire below to see if you qualify.
Name:
Age:
I’m so fat that I (fill in the blank)
Have you ever had the authenticity of your hair questioned?
Choose the sentence that best describes your financial situation:
1. I’m so freakin’ rich that I don’t need your stinky old grunt.
2. I sure hope I qualify for this grunt because there’s no way in hell I’m ever going to be able to pay back a loan.
Sign and date the questionnaire and mail it to:
Log
University of Log (U of L),
Department of Grunt Granting
#2 Hershey Hwy
Portland, OR 97220
You will be notified of our decision upon arrival of the completed form.
I AM LOG!!! May the flush be with you.
A message from Log:
I AM LOG!!! People of the full latrines… I have returned! Well I said I was gonna do it and by Log I did. The evil Professor A.D. Imodium, the suspected perpetrator of the tipped over Port-A-Pottie spree was apprehended in Canada.
It seems the evil Professor thought he could escape prosecution by fleeing the country, but he didn’t take into account the reaching distance of the long arm of the Log (I AM LOG!!!) And trust me folks, when you’re Log (I AM LOG!!!) you’d better have long arms.
The evil Professor was brought back to my porcelain Palace Acrapolis where he was tried and convicted without an Attorney At Log to represent him. I suppose I could’ve appointed him an Attorney At Log if he couldn’t afford his own, but hey… he shouldn’t have stopped running in Canada, so it’s his own damn fault. I personally sentenced the Professor to life in the Wastewater Treatment Plant – where he will spend the rest of his life being treated like wastewater.
So you can all rest easy now folks. I AM LOG!!! And odor has been restored.
Shadow Stalker wrote:
Dear Log, I am intent on taking full control of your palace Acropolis. I have a question though is it fitted with a Beday, the incredible Japanese invention of high power rear end water washing? Do not attempt to challenge me for I am slowly conquering the world. T>S>S
Dear Shadow Stalker,
I AM LOG!!! Y’know, for somebody with such a cool and intimidating name you sure are a dumb sonofabitch. First of all, I don’t live in a palace Acropolis; it’s a porcelain palace Acrapolis. Folks, try to sound the words out when you’re reading them. It’s a toilet, but it’s home.
Second of all, why would I have a toilet inside of a toilet? Toilets don’t have to go to the bathroom because they’re already in one.
Thirdly, the Japanese only want you to think their invention is a high-powered rear end washing device, when in fact they just have a fetish about enemas.
And fourthly, when it comes to slowly conquering the world you’re so slow the dinosaurs could make a comeback and go extinct again before you’ll ever conquer this planet.
My advice to you is to stick to stalking shadows.
I AM LOG!!! Spread the turd.
Fartwell Gass Station asked:
Dear Log. How much gas must come out yer ass before the real thing arrives? I know you never crap on weekends so I'll wait till Monday for your esteemed steamy pile of (insert steamy pile of whatever joke here). answer. by the way congrats to the San Antonio Spurs
Dear Fartwell,
I AM LOG!!! Your question isn’t very specific. By “the real thing” I assume you’re not referring to Coca-Cola, because if that’s what’s coming out of your ass it ain’t Coca-Cola.
On the other hand, if your question is in reference to the propulsion qualities of gas, and its ability to “move things along”, then that’s a whole different story. Here’s a fun fact that I bet you didn’t know – Farts are actually the ghosts of dead turds that have come back to haunt your butt. That’s how the expression “Something crawled up and died inside of that guy!” got started.
Now then, as for your question as to how much gas is required to push a turd out of your butt… well that depends on three of things: 1. the amount of pressure built up by the gas, 2. the size of the turd and how tightly it’s wedged in your butt, and 3. the amount of gas mileage that your butt gets. If you have a butt the size of an SUV then it probably doesn’t get much mileage.
Safety is also an important factor. While it’s important to always keep your safety on during ordinary everyday activities, you need to let your safety off to allow a turd to pass. In the event that your safety becomes stuck in the on position, just spray some WD-40 up your butt. Those long skinny hook-on nozzles that come with every can work really great for getting “up there,” and it will make you fart bubbles for an hour or so afterwards, which is really convenient if you’re playing the home version of The Lawrence Welk Show.
Thank you for your question. I AM LOG!!! Don’t tread on me.
Loaded Pants asked:
Dear Log, Is it true that you have a Phd. in Log propulsion? And one follow up question. Are you still teaching at the University of Log or did you transfer to the Stanlog Institute of advanced Logology ?
Dear Loaded,
I AM LOG!!! No, what I have is a Doctorate in Feceology, so you can call me Dr. Log if you want to. However, I had a lot of influence in setting the standards for Payload Specialists at the National Ass Spewing Administration (NASA). It was during my time at NASA that I pointed out the need for such safety standards as having an actual containment feature on the inside of space suits. Before that time they were simply made water-tight, which worked fine until the pressure inside the suit built up to a point to where it finally sprung a leak; and when the levee breaks, mama you got to move.
I also had a role in pointing out the dangers of farting in zero gravity. After all, those are some pretty cramped quarters in those space shuttles, and it only takes a second to blast yourself from one end of the cargo bay to the other. This is why you often see astronauts wearing those pads on their heads.
As for your second question, no, I’m retired from teaching at the University of Log (U of L). And I don’t need to transfer to any stinking institute of advanced Logology because as we all know… I AM LOG!!!
Thank you for your question. I AM LOG!!! “For Log so loved the world that he gave his only begotten role of TP, so that all humans could live eternally free of dingleberries.” – Log 3:16
Dear Log, In my own studies of fecal matter I have learned to think outside the box. My question is where should I bury the box where the authorities won't find it. It's starting to give off a very nice but otherwise (to the untrained nose)a strong odor and my refrigerator quit working last week. Any suggestions? Thanks, Gutty Intestine Pelican Bay State prison California. prisoner number 12205460 (no I don't have a cell phone, or a phone in my cell either for that matter.)
Dear Gutty,
I AM LOG!!! Let me see if I understand you correctly… You’re in prison, you’ve been studying fecal matter and thinking outside the box, and now you want to bury the box where the authorities won’t find it? Well it’s no damn wonder you’re in prison; you’re going about it all wrong.
First of all, in order to study fecal matter you have to think outside the butt, no the box. If you try to study fecal matter while it’s still inside the butt things are going to get messy, and crapping in a box won’t solve the problem. That’s why the study of fecal matter (along with its point of exit) in prison is usually done in the showers.
Now then, are far as getting rid of the box, here’s what you do… Close the box and tape it up really good, then on the outside of the box, right in the center of any one side, write your address (including your cell number) but give a fake name. Then in the upper left-hand corner of the box write the Warden’s name and his home address. Then stick a couple of stamps in the upper right-hand corner and scribble on them so it looks like they were stamped by the Post Office. Then take the box to the prison mailroom and tell them you received a box addressed to your cell’s previous tenant, tell them he’s no longer at this address, and tell them to return the box to the sender.
Thank you for your question. I AM LOG!!! And remember… Think outside the butt!
Name: Turdy Crappelstein Age: 39 I’m so fat that I (fill in the blank) crap loaded dice. Have you ever had the authenticity of your hair questioned? yes, but only by bald people. Choose the sentence that best describes your financial situation: 1. I’m so freakin’ rich that I don’t need your stinky old grunt. Number 2 of course 2. I sure hope I qualify for this grunt because there’s no way in hell I’m ever going to be able to pay back a loan. Sign and date the questionnaire and mail it to: Log University of Log (U of L), Department of Grunt Granting #2 Hershey Hwy Portland, OR 97220 You will be notified of our decision upon arrival of the completed form. Am I applying for a student load or a student loan?
Dear Turdy,
I AM LOG!!! You’re not applying for a load or a loan; you’re applying for a grunt. Folks, it’s important to read the application before signing it. Now then, in the event that your application is approved (and it probably won’t be because I’m in a really crappy mood today) I’ll need to know just exactly what sort of career you’re planning to study for at the University of Log (U of L). This is important because I need to be able to determine just exactly how big of a grunt I’m going to deny you, and I also need to see if there’s enough room in the class that you’ll never be able to attend.
So give it some thought and get back to me. In the meantime I’ll forward your application to the Career Guidance Counselors (CGC) who will review your application, laugh uncontrollably at it for an hour or two, crumple it up into a ball and play a quick game of 1 on 1 wastepaper basketball with it, and then use it for toilet paper before they set it on fire and run the ashes through the paper shredder.
Thank you for your question. I AM LOG!!!
Log is kind
Log is good
Log was once
Your plate of food.
Dear Log,
Every time I try to ask my boyfriend a straight question he always answers by asking me if a bear shits in the woods. I ask him if he wants a beer; I ask him if he wants to have sex; I ask him if he thinks I’m fat, and all he does is ask if a bear shits in the woods.
So could you please set the record straight by telling me whether or not a bear shits in the woods?
Sincerely,
Shirley U. Jest
Dear Shirley,
I AM LOG!!! Y’know I was beginning to think that nobody would ever ask me that question. In fact, I’m so pleased that somebody finally asked that I’m sending you a home version of the game. I’ll bet you didn’t even know there was a home version of the game, did you? Yes, now you and your boyfriend will have hours of fun at home. Every game comes complete with a porcelain throne, a set of question cards, a name tag that says “I AM LOG!!!”, and a crown of turds. If you don’t like people calling you “shithead” you may want to leave the crown in the box. Now then, about your question…
The problem with humans on this planet is that they think they know everything. And whenever somebody asks what might be considered a stupid question they’re always quick to respond by pointing out what they think is incredibly obvious, in this case, a bear shitting in the woods. This particular reference was started by a guy named Larry, who later went on to invent the outhouse (for the complete history on the invention of the outhouse see Airy Ace’s question on page one of the original Ask Log string).
One day Larry was in the woods looking for a place to take a dump, because he hadn’t invented the outhouse yet, when he came across a bear taking a dump. Larry had never seen a bear take a dump before, so he crouched down behind some bushes, took out a pencil and paper and began to take notes. When the bear was finished Larry was surprised to see the bear walk over to a tree and begin rubbing its butt up against the bark. Larry didn’t know it at the time but this is how bears wipe their asses, and the sight of it was so amusing to Larry that he inadvertently let out not only a guffaw, but a chortle as well. The bear heard Larry’s guffaw and chortle, and because bears are unable to say “Hey, I’m in here!” it became angry and began to chase Larry.
Larry, seeing that his life was in danger, turned to run away and ran right into another tree that another bear had used to wipe its ass just an hour or so earlier. Larry didn’t know it at the time, but this is how the expression “His bark is worse than his bite” got started. Larry was knocked unconscious by the tree, and the bear beat the crap out of him, which is actually kind of ironic because Larry had gone into the woods to take a dump in the first place.
When Larry regained consciousness he was all scratched up, bruised, and bleeding, and his underwear was full of poop. He realized immediately that he needed medical attention and decided to hitchhike into town to see the doctor. He staggered along an old dirt road until a stagecoach came along. The stagecoach driver took one look at Larry and asked “Do you want a ride into town to see a doctor?” to which Larry replied “Does a bear shit in the woods?” The driver, who had never seen a bear take a dump before figured this was due to bears always hiding in the woods, and so he naturally assumed the answer was “yes.”
Well that’s how the expression got started, but the actual answer is a lot more complicated that you think, and here’s why… When a bear decides to take a dump its proximity to the woods does not enter into the decision making. A bear takes a dump wherever it happens to be standing at the time. With that in mind, a bear can often be found taking a dump in a sunny meadow, or a grassy knoll, or beside a babbling brook, or in a circus tent. In fact, it’s this very unpredictable nature of bears that made people put pants on Smokey The Bear. I should warn you because if you’ve never tried to put a pair of pants on a bear, don’t, because it’s really not as easy as it sounds.
Thank you for your question. I AM LOG!!! A turd in the hand is worth poo in the bush.
Dear Log,
The other day I was reading the ingredients on my tube of lipstick and I noticed that one of the ingredients was Red Dye #2. Does the #2 mean my lipstick is made from poo?
Helena Bucket
Dear Helena,
I AM LOG!!! I’m sorry that you had to find out the hard way, but yes, you’re lipstick is made from poo. Folks, here’s a little health and safety tip: Never use or consume anything that contains a color with a number after it. I’ll bet you’re probably wondering why lipstick is made from poo. Well here’s the story behind that…
Once upon a time there was a guy named Larry. Unlike all of the other guys named Larry, this one was the Captain of a whaling ship way back in the late 1700s. Back then they use to hunt down whales, kill them, cut off all of the blubber, and throw all of the genuinely useful and tasty meat to the sharks. The blubber was then cooked down to make oil for lamps. Every few months or so Larry would pull into port and he’d give his crew a couple of days off while he sold the whale oil.
The trouble started because Larry and his crew smelled like dead whales, and because of this it was really hard for them to hire hookers on their days off. Even the really old and ugly hookers wouldn’t have anything to do with Larry and his crew. So the next time Larry and his crew went out and killed another whale, Larry got an idea. He took some of the whale blubber and mashed it into a really disgusting looking mess, and then he took a bucket and lowered it down to his crew (who were still busy cutting up the dead whale) and ordered them to fill the bucket with whale poop and blood. Larry then took this disgusting looking mess and added it to the other disgusting looking mess and mixed it up real good. The whale poop thickened up the mixture just right, and the blood gave it a nice rosy red color. Larry then stuffed all of this into little metal tubes.
The next time Larry and his crew pulled into port he distributed the little metal tubes to his crew and told them to tell the hookers that these little metal tubes contained a new invention that would make the hookers’ lips rosy red, no matter what color they might really be. Well needless to say, the hookers went wild over Larry’s invention and immediately offered free services to Larry and his crew, but of course by that time neither Larry nor his crew wanted anything to do with hookers with whale poop on their lips.
As Larry’s invention became more and more popular he realized that sooner or later someone would want to know what his invention was made of, and since Larry saw the opportunity to become incredibly wealthy and never have to kill whales again he decided to use code words for the ingredients. And so, Larry decided to call his mixture of whale poop and blood “Red Dye #2.” And as for his new invention, Larry decided to call it “Lipstick.” The rest is history.
So the next time all you women out there turn a guy down because he isn’t clean shaven, or doesn’t have a glamorous job, or have a lot of money, or he drives a crappy looking car, or if he just smells like a dead whale; just remember that you’ve been smearing whale poop on your lips since your pre-pubescent days.
I AM LOG!!! Mark my turds.
Dear Log,
I’m a big fan of yours, and I enjoy reading your advice column everyday. However, my parents got onto my computer and found out that I’ve been reading your advice column. Now they’ve taken away my computer and they’re making me go to a psychiatrist because they say you don’t really exist. Worse than that, they say that if the psychiatrist can’t help me they’re going to make me go to a military school. I don’t want to wind up dying in Iraq. What should I do?
Sincerely,
Theo Retically
Dear Theo,
I AM LOG!!! It sounds to me like your parents need a serious wake up call, so here’s what I’m gonna do…
I’m sending you and you’re parents on an all expense paid trip to my Magical Mystery Sewer kingdom. Yes, you and your parents will spend one week in my splendid porcelain Palace Acrapolis. Actually, you’ll be spending a week in my splendid porcelain Palace Acrapolis; you’re parents will spend the first half of the week in my Wastewater Treatment Plant, where they will be treated like wastewater. During the second half of the week, your parents will be forced to attend Poop Camp Training where they will experience the rugged and grueling training required to become a member of the Special Flushes Unit of my Logs of War. That should take their minds off of sending you to military school.
And as a special farting gift you’ll receive the Home Version of the game and the new Log Doll. I realize you’re probably too old and macho to play with dolls, but you’ll really like the new Log Doll. It looks a lot like a Mr. Potato Head, except that when it gets dropped it flattens out and makes a big “Splat” sound.
As for the psychiatrist, tell him you have these sudden urges to crap your pants and you just can’t resist the urges. Most likely he’ll tell your parents to quit sending you to his office.
Thank you for your question. I AM LOG!!! Spread the turd.
From Pilot 18:
Dear LOG, How come the so-called bon-fire bash with Eli Babbs was such a complete waste of time? Do you suppose it would have been better if there was some acid floating around? I'm only bringing this up because of the shittyness of the event has caused shitty reactions from me as well as the great writer Ernest Loggingway. Loggingway was heard saying, "fuck this. I'm working for Mel Brooks. And I'm going to see Eric Burden and the Animals in case there's a hippo that might defecate for the live crowd just like on the animal channel. me thinks I is so I am------(old enough to know better, but young enough to do it anyway) Like taking a dump on a cross town bus. You'll need more than just a few paper towels
Dear Pilot 18,
I AM LOG!!! Y’know, I was wondering the same thing and that’s why I sent Tracy (Never had a nickname) McCall down there to check things out. As an Attorney at Log, Tracy often represents me when I’m unable to attend such functions. Here’s what Tracy had to report:
“Dear Log,
YOU ARE LOG!!! My initial reaction to the event in question was this… 1. Why isn’t anybody playing any music? 2. Why isn’t there any acid? And 3. I’m not initialing this.
I meant to inspect the Port-A-Pottie, but I saw a fat woman go in there first, and after she came out the lack of acid made me afraid to go in there.
Tracy”
And so you can see that the lack of proper planning made for an ideal condition for a fiasco like the one that occurred.
Now then, it’s interesting that you mentioned Ernest Loggingway. I’m a big fan of Ernest Loggingway. My favorite books of his are For Whom The Smell Tolls, and The Old Man And The TP.
Oh, and one other thing… Your comment about taking a dump on a cross town bus is incorrect. That’s why the drivers keep paper towels behind their seats.
Thank you for your question. I AM LOG!!! I stink, therefore I am.
From Log Imposter:
IT may appear that LOg and his fine fealine friend and sidekick Blood have ran out of Ha.. Ha's...... Time for me to regain my rightful throne.
Dear Log Imposter,
I AM LOG!!! Y’know, for a Log Imposter you sure seem to enjoy being verbally assaulted. Well okay then, here we go again…
Regain your rightful throne? How exactly did you lose your rightful throne? And why are you always so hell-bent on overflowing my government? I happen to operate a very fair and effective dictatorshit. For example, the Turd Tax is very reasonable and nobody has to pay it until the turd actually sees the light of day. This is because taxation without defecation is unconstitutional. What does your government have to offer?
And I’ll bet you’re still using that old toilet paper money system. Oh sure, we use to have that here too, but we’ve evolved and moved on to the new Euro Restroom Token System (ERTS). This has saved millions of dollars in reprinting costs because nobody here is stupid enough to try and wipe their asses with coins.
So what exactly is it that makes your system of government so damn much better?
I AM LOG!!! The butt stops here.
Log Imposter:
I was pondering the trials and tribulations of all the headaches in the true kngdom of Log and wondered. LOg can you tell me if this situation truly occured or is it just fiction. On a sweltering summer afternoon Tracy went to go buy beer because he has a job and Paul has no money. Upon his return he heard a horrible hissing of high pitched horror and Pauls voice saying "Good Pussy, Good Pussy." When he opened the door his reaction was "What the fuck Paul? What are you doing to Lard Ass (his cat) Get the fuck off my cat!" At that moment Paul spun around startled with a cat dangling from his you know what and scratched to shit. Pauls reaction was "I thought you went to go buy beer?" Lard Ass ran behind Tracy for protection puked and hasn't stopped puking since. That is the origin of Lard Ass's puking problem. Is that true Log?
Dear Log Imposter,
I AM LOG!!! There are only three things wrong with that story: 1. Tracy always buys beer before Paul shows up; 2. Lardass prefers to be on top; and 3. Lardass doesn’t have a problem puking, in fact, she’s quite proficient at it.
I would thank you for your question, but it wasn’t Log-related. I AM LOG!!! Don’t tread on me.
Dear Log,
Something really weird happened to me last night that I can’t explain, and I’m hoping you can help me. I was driving home from work around 3:00 a.m. and as I was approaching a railroad crossing the signal began flashing and the arms came down, so naturally I stopped, expecting that a train was coming. As I waited for the train there suddenly appeared a really bright light right above my car which just seemed to hover there. I stuck my head out the car window to see what it was and saw a large lawn cigar shaped object hovering about 50 feet above my car. I’d never seen anything like this before, so I got out of my car to get a better look.
The object just hovered there for several minutes while the railroad signal kept flashing and ringing, but it was apparent that no train was actually coming. Suddenly the railroad signal went all dark and quiet, and brilliant beam of light came down from the lawn cigar shaped object and concentrated right on my car. Needless to say, by this time I was getting pretty scared and decided to get the hell out of there. So I jumped back into my car and realized that my engine had shut off, and when I turned the key in the ignition it wouldn’t start. Now I was really scared because my friend Larry told me how a similar thing happened to him once and he hasn’t been the same since.
Then the bottom of the lawn cigar shaped object opened up, and I was sure I was going to get beamed up and anal probed, but instead several hundred gallons of what appeared and smelled like space sewage dropped down and all over my car. Unfortunately I had just opened the sun roof to keep an eye on the object. The next thing I know the object just flew off at a tremendous rate of speed and disappeared.
I took my car to the Rub-A-Dub car wash, but they took one look at my car and said “No way!” I realize that I’ve been rambling on and on about this, so I guess my question is… What the hell happened?
Sincerely,
Roy Neary
Dear Roy,
I AM LOG!!! Although you rarely ever hear about this sort of thing happening it’s actually a pretty common occurrence. What you’ve experienced is known as a Close Encounter Of The Turd Kind, or physical contact from a UFO (Unidentified Fecal Object). This usually happens because aliens often spend light years traveling to and fro without ever coming to a rest stop, and while they may be highly advanced as far as building interstellar transport vehicles they’re not very smart as far as training their crew as Payload Specialists. Because of this total lack of proper planning they often wind up filling their septic tanks well over the Turd Holding Capacity (THC).
Once they’ve surpassed the THC, breaking out of orbit can be difficult unless they lighten the load, and so they just flush it in any place they happen to be ala Dave Matthews’ tour bus. This is also known as Illegal Dumping. Oh sure, we have laws against that sort of thing, but aliens have a tendency of skipping town before you have a chance to stick a ticket on their windshield, and they never show up for the court appearances.
Needless to say, this makes log enforcement very difficult, and filing a log suit takes forever to get a judgment and even longer to collect on the damages. However, there is hope because I’ve been working on passing my Cosmic Regulations on Alien Poop (CRAP), and I can assure you that soon nobody anywhere in this universe will be beyond the reach of the long arm of the log.
As far as what to do about your car, if you contact your car insurance agent and explain the problem I’m sure he’ll understand agree that your car has been Turded On Till All Layered in Extraterrestrial Dung (TOTALED). You do have car insurance don’t you? If not, then I’m afraid I can only suggest a couple of buckets of Mr. Clean and a good hefty scrub brush.
I AM LOG!!! May the flush be with you.
Alice All Strung Out asked:
Dear Log, How many individual turds are discharged by a rino in the wild during an average bowel movement. I need to know this for my biology class.
Dear Alice,
I AM LOG!!! Ah, the wonders of nature and its wildlife. So many different types of animals, so many different preferences of pooing. Whether it’s chimpanzees throwing their own turds at human tourists for the sheer joy and target practice, or the multitude of assorted sea life that choose to make the bathysphere they live in their own personal toilet bowl. You have to admit though, going to the beach would be a whole new experience if every fish, whale, mollusk, and crustacean chose to come up on land to take a dump.
But for the purposes of your biology class we’ll stick to the subject of rhinos. You must have Mr. Pemberton for a biology teacher; I remember having the same homework assignment when I was your age. Now then, on with rhinos…
Ever since humans first set eyes upon the mighty rhinoceros they’ve wondered to themselves “What kind of an insane God would create such a strange looking creature?”, only to follow up that question with “I wonder how many turds it holds?” And it’s that very never ending human curiosity that has led to the rhinoceros being an endangered specie, but that’s another story.
The rhinoceros is a vegetarian, which means it can eat, digest, and poo with tremendous speed. And similar to the hippopotamus, the rhinoceros has a short yet very sharp tail. If you’ve ever watched film of either a hippopotamus or a rhinoceros taking a dump (and who hasn’t?) you’ll see how their razor sharp tails can slice, dice, julienne, and cube a turd faster than you can say “I slit my sheets, my sheets I slit, and so on slitted sheets I sit.” This gives the illusion that multiple turds are flying out like bullets from a Tommy Gun, when in fact, there is really only one turd coming out. Incidentally, if you want to avoid losing fingers you should keep your hands well away from the sphincters of these mighty beasts.
And so, the answer to your question is a rhinoceros only jettisons one turd during an average bowel movement.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
PS. Please tell Mr. Pemberton I said “no hard feelings” about always giving him crap during his lectures.
Dear Log,
How did the term “the shit hit the fan” get started?
Sincerely,
Mavis Davis
Dear Mavis,
I AM LOG!!! Y’know I was beginning to think that nobody would ever ask that question. Folks, it’s okay to ask, that’s why I’m here. After all, I AM LOG!!! Now then, here’s the story behind that saying…
Once upon a time there was a guy named Larry, and unlike all the other Larrys I’ve told stories about, this one was a real trouble maker. This was during the old west days, right around the time that another guy named Larry was busy inventing the outhouse (for the complete history on the invention of the outhouse see Airy Ace’s question on page one of the original Ask Log string).
Larry was quite the gambler, and he spent hour after hour everyday sitting in the saloon playing poker. Unfortunately, Larry wasn’t very good at playing poker. In fact, it was often said that even the writer, Edgar Allan Poo, was a better poker player than Larry. So needless to say, Larry pretty much lost every cent he walked into the saloon with every day.
One day Larry got a not so good idea, he decided to cheat at poker, but how? Larry pondered this question for hours, and then it finally came to him. So that night he waited until the saloon closed and then he snuck up onto the roof of the saloon. He brought with him a bag of tools and he proceeded to make a hole in the roof right above the table where he always played poker. Then he reached down and glued a small mirror facing downwards to one of the blades on the ceiling fan above the poker table. Larry thought to himself “Now as the mirror spins slowly around on the fan I’ll be able to see all of the other players’ cards! I can’t lose!”
The next day Larry showed up at the saloon at his usual time and sat down at his usual table to play poker with the usual people. Unfortunately, it was particularly hot that day and the bartender had turned the ceiling fan on high, and now the mirror spun around way too fast for Larry to see the other players’ cards. To make matters worse, the other players were a lot better at cheating than Larry was, and they soon cleaned him out yet again.
Angry at being a dismal failure again Larry walked out of the saloon and wondered what to do next. And then it struck him, “That damn ceiling fan!” Larry thought to himself. “I’ll teach them to turn that ceiling fan up full blast!”, which was actually a pretty silly thing to think because it was obvious that they already knew how to turn up the ceiling fan full blast and therefore, there was no need to teach them to do it.
Nevertheless, Larry climbed up onto the roof of the saloon and walked over to where he had made a hole in the roof the night before. He pulled up the board he used to cover up the hole and looked down into the rotating blades of the ceiling fan, and then he thought to himself “Now the shit is going to hit the fan!” And with that Larry dropped his drawers, squatted over the hole, and took a big dump; and when the shit hit the fan it wound up hitting everyone else in the bar as well.
Instantly, everyone began shouting and screaming and running out of the saloon, which soon drew the attention of the Sheriff, who demanded to know what was going on. The Bartender (whose name was also Larry, but that’s another story) spoke up and said “Everything was fine Sheriff, and then the shit hit the fan!” The Sheriff, who wasn’t known for having a sense of humor, had never heard anybody say that before, but he fought hard to keep from laughing and walked into the saloon to investigate. It wasn’t long before the Sheriff noticed the hole above the ceiling fan, and soon he was up on the roof where he found Larry still rolling around on the roof and laughing his ass off.
Well Larry quickly found himself in jail, but he wasn’t worried because he knew that there was no law against crapping into a ceiling fan, and it would probably be weeks before the town counsel got around to enacting a law against it. Unfortunately for Larry he underestimated the town’s potential for vigilantism, and not only was he barred for life from the saloon, but he was soon lynched as well later that evening.
Larry was soon buried and forgotten, but his effect on the lives and reaction times of the townsfolk who lynched him remained forever buried in their psyches. And that’s why to this very day Larry’s immortal words still serve as a warning to people everywhere, and if you run into any bar, tavern, saloon, or anywhere else where ceiling fans are permanent fixtures and yell “Everybody run before the shit hits the fan!”, it’s inevitable that you’ll cause a stampede for the exits. And that’s also why whenever somebody tries to describe the events leading up to a particularly messy situation they generally sum it all up by saying “The shit hit the fan.”
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. And remember… Never take the Log into your own hands.
Airy Ace wrote:
Dear LOG!!! I ran a Thanksgiving Day poll which yielded some disturbing results. One of every four respondents indicated that they would throw up and then eat more. That must mean that about 1 billion, 501 million 250 thousand people throw up instead of poo, unless I got some zeroes wrong. What effect does this have on the ecosystem, considering that, depending on how many times they throw up and eat more, over 1/4 of food eaten by human beings has not been fully processed, but instead is just slimey chewed up pulp reeking of gastric juices? Thank-you, AA
Dear Airy,
I AM LOG!!! There’s one thing wrong with your equation, Thanksgiving is only celebrated in America, and since half of the rest of the world is starving to death those folks aren’t likely to scarf and barf just for the sheer joy of eating more because there ain’t no seconds on the table. Therefore, you need to modify your equation to only take into account the population of America.
Here’s an interesting fact about Thanksgiving that you probably didn’t know: At the time the Pilgrims arrived at Plymouth Rock corn was still indigenous to the North American continent. This means that only the Native American Indians were aware of the texture qualities of corn in turds. After the first Thanksgiving you can imagine the looks on the Pilgrims faces when they found this out. This is also the first and only time that the Native American Indians were able to roll on the ground laughing their asses off at white people.
Now then, to answer your question… There are only four (4) major differences between barf and turds: 1. The color, 2. The smell, 3. The density, and 4. Which orifice it exits the body from. However, for the most part both barf and turds usually wind up in the same place at the local wastewater treatment plant where they’re both treated like wastewater and sent on their merry way. Unless of course you happen to live between Oregon City and Portland where every time it rains it all overflows into the Willamette River. Therefore, the answer to your question is that there is no real effect upon the ecosystem except for the fact that it still gets screwed up.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
PS. And they said I wasn’t funny anymore.
Calling Log, come in Log, Log, Goldfinger is up to his old tricks again. I've got to find him and stop him from blowing up all the turds at Fort Knox which would make his turds very valuable and upset the world's econmy. We need a turd location device to find him. He travels in a Poop coloured (I'm a British agent) Rolls Royce Phantom 3 and a turd. Bood hounds won't work. They bleed all over the place. So we'll need something more sophisticated. Thanks, James Bond oo7
Dear James,
I AM LOG!!! At first I though you were referring to Dr. Larry Coldfinger, who was recently convicted of impersonating a Proctologist, but then I realized you meant Goldfinger and I thought to myself “Ah crap, not again!” I told them not to grant him parole, but did they listen? Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…
Well once I sorted all that out I immediately contacted the National Ass Spewing Association (NASA) and asked them to use the Global Poop Searcher (GPS) to locate Goldfinger. This didn’t take long because the GPS can read a license plate on any turdmoblie on Earth from a 12,000 mile high orbit. Well it didn’t take long to locate him because there aren’t a whole lot of turd colored Toilet Paper Rolls Royces in America, and sure enough he’s parked right across the street from Fort Knox in the Taco Bell drive through. Apparently, he was low on gas and he’s stopped to fill ‘er up.
I called the Taco Bell and asked the manager to have the employee working the drive through window to stall Goldfinger by pretending that she doesn’t speak English. Unfortunately, the manager doesn’t speak English and he just kept asking “Who is this?”
I told the manager “I AM LOG!!!”, but he just said “He no work here” and hung up.
I realized that immediate action had to be taken or Goldfinger would escape, or worse, he might head straight across the street to Fort Knox and carry out his attack. So I placed an urgent call to my Logs of War and ordered the launch of a Surface To Ass Missile (SAM). The SAM is a nifty little weapon with a Fart Seeking Targeting Guidance System (FSTGS), and it can zero in on even the slightest of farts and blow a whole new asshole out of wherever the fart is emanating from.
Unfortunately, it turns out that they were holding tryouts for the US Olympic Farting Team just down the street from the Taco Bell, and the SAM, being easily distracted and not completely perfected yet, blew the crap out of them instead. So here’s the situation as it currently stands… I have the International Olympic Committee (IOC) keeping my phone ringing off the hook demanding an explanation, and Goldfinger is still stalled at the Taco Bell drive through because they got his order wrong. Apparently he specifically asked for no sour cream on his tostada, and they’re all out of the little packets of red sauce.
So you’re going to have to take it from here, James. I can’t talk to the Taco Bell people on the phone, and I can’t risk launching another SAM because I just heard that the Ringling Brothers & Barnum and Bailey Circus is in town, and I don’t want to take a chance on harming any elephants. You’ll have to act fast, there’s no telling how soon Taco Bell will finally get Goldfinger’s order right. I will continue to monitor the situation from here in my Porcelain Palace Acrapolis, and I’ll keep you posted if Goldfinger makes any sudden bowel movements.
I AM LOG!!! Good luck James.
PS. Log save the Queen!
Wally wrote:
Are his turds balloons? And will he fill them with helium?
Dear Wally,
I AM LOG!!! I was going to invoke the “one question per person at a time” rule, but since your questions are so short I’m going to wave that rule. However, your questions aren’t very specific. Are whose turds balloons? And will who fill them with helium? But since it’s getting so close to Stooltide, and I have to get into practice again so I can perform my annual anal doo doo duties as Santa Log, I’m going to answer your questions anyway.
First of all, nobody’s turds are balloons. Secondly, nobody fills them with helium. Now then, in order to prove that the answers to both questions are in fact correct, I offer the following proof:
1. If turds were balloons and people did fill them up with helium then those wouldn’t be clouds in the sky, and flying in an airplane wouldn’t be anywhere near as safe as they claim it is now.
2. If turds were balloons then they would be naturally inflated with methane at birth. Methane is nature’s way of telling your turds “Okay move along now, there’s nothing to see here.” That’s why they often fly out of your ass with a “whooshing” sound, but because they’re not balloons and because they aren’t propelled by helium, rather than soaring to the skies they simply lose speed, and then gravity takes over, and then they fall to the ground with a mighty “plop.”
And so you see, there is nothing to fear from anyone who thinks they can develop a weapon of ass destruction by trying to fill up a turd with helium.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your questions. And in the end the dump you take is equal to the dump you make.
Dear Log, It's that time of year when lake-effect snow whirls like Ajax white tornadoes around craggy miniature mountains of exhaust-blackened snow along downtown Michigan streets. And yet, the holiday spirit warms us as my friends and I gather in the library restroom to pass gas and spiced rum as we tell stories of the season. My friends were incredulous when I told them that I know you. I told them they would believe me when I took them to the computer room where we could gather 'round the monitor as though it was a fire in the hearth, and you would tell us the story of The Stool Log. Please make our Christmas a merry one, and tell us that story as only you can! Thanks. They're calling the police now, but we'll be back and I will read your story to them because most of them see double and it is hard to read that way with only one voice, and if they had two voices it would still sound garbled. Airy
Dear Airy,
I AM LOG!!! Y’know it’s always comforting to know that fanatics like you are out and about and spreading the turd. Yes folks, it’s that time of the year again when Stooltide is fast approaching, and soon I’ll have to tend to my doo doo duties as Santa Log. I’m making my list, and checking it twice. I’m gonna find out who’s naughty and who wipes. And if you’ve ever seen me dressed as Santa Log, you know for sure that I make quite a pantload.
Well now, I’m sure the cops will soon be beating on the door, so I guess we’d better all gather around for the Story of the Stool Log:
Once upon a time there was a guy named Larry, who invented the Chimney Sweeping Log. This seemed like a good idea at the time; however, Larry didn’t put a whole lot of research into the idea. Larry discovered that burning stuff in your fireplace causes a build up of crap known as creosote. Somehow Larry got it into his head that sticking a log in your fireplace and setting it on fire would somehow solve the creosote problem, but it soon became apparent that this was not the case.
It was soon brought to my attention that such a defective product could be dangerous, and so somebody somewhere sent one to me here at my majestic Porcelain Palace Acrapolis to see if I could somehow improve upon the idea. Well after reading the directions on the wrapper I said to myself “No wonder it doesn’t work, they’re sticking it in their fireplaces and lighting it on fire. This must have been another one of Larry’s ideas. That damn Larry!”
Well it was obvious to me that the whole idea was ass-backwards and so I summoned the Feceology Department at the University of Log (U of L) who soon had gathered around to behold the defective product. Fortunately it was pledge week, and soon I had a young freshman seated at a table where I ordered him to eat the so-called Chimney Sweeping Log. He was reluctant at first, and they always are, but after assuring him that this was the sort of thing that all freshmen have to do for these silly college initiations he dug right in and had soon consumed the entire Chimney Sweeping Log.
I then ordered him to climb up onto the roof and take a dump down the chimney. This took a lot longer than expected because eating a Chimney Sweeping Log can be quite constipating, which is kind of odd because you would think they’d be high in fiber. Anyway, when the big movement finally came the Chimney Sweeping Log came crashing down with mighty plop, and with it came all of that nasty creosote, and since creosote is highly flammable I put a match to it and it burst into the warmest comforting glowing flames you’ve ever seen, and it left the chimney clean as a whistle, which is actually a pretty silly term because whistles are usually full of spit and hardly sanitary.
And so I contacted Larry and straightened him out on the directions, and then I suggested to him that in order to generate repeat business he should put a recommendation on the wrapper saying that for best results this product should be used once a year, preferably during Stooltide because Santa Log needs all the clearance he can get coming down the chimney. This quickly led to the total commercialization of Stooltide, on the other hand it also generated a whole new tradition.
And that’s why on Stooltide Eve families everywhere gather around the dinner table for a heaping helping of Larry’s New Improved Chimney Sweeping Logs (I understand he’s added mint flavoring now to keep your chimney fresh all year round) and then later they all climb up onto their roofs to give their chimneys a proper cleansing and to provide themselves with a fire fuel that’s guaranteed to keep families warm and safe and those coldest of nights during Stooltide. Incidentally, it’s best to do this at night because if you climb up on your roof and try to take a dump down your chimney during the daytime you’re bound to attract a lot of unwanted attention.
Here’s another interesting Stooltide fact that you probably didn’t know: A lot of people have accused me as Santa Log of leaving lumps of coal in their stockings. This is completely untrue. What really happens is that some people are too cheap to go out and buy a Chimney Sweeping Log every year, and then I have to come along and try to make my way down a cold filthy chimney. Well folks, when the nights get that cold those wonderfully gift wrapped and autographed turds that I usually leave in your stockings wind up freezing solid, giving the impression that they’re really lumps of coal.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
And now for all you folks out there who prefer to celebrate Christmas, it’s time for the Christmas sing along! Let’s all sing that old Paulie Family Christmas Anthem…
Rudolph The Big Shlonged Reindeer (Sung to the tune of Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer by Gene Autry)
Rudolph the big shlonged reindeer
Had a really great big shlong
And if you ever saw it
You would say it’s three feet long.
All of the other reindeer
Were insecure and nervous wrecks
They never let poor Rudolph
Join in any reindeer sex.
Then one soggy Christmas Eve
Santa came to say
“Rudolph with your shlong so big,
Make me squeal like a pig.”
Then all the reindeer loved him
As they shouted their applause
“Rudolph the big shlonged reindeer
You poopchuted Santa Claus.”
Hey Mate, Is the U of L (University of Log) located somewhere Down Under? There's just no enema such questions, once you get the log rolling. Wally
Dear Wally,
I AM LOG!!! Here in the Land of Log pretty much everything is “Down Under.” Whether it’s the throne that I sit atop here in my porcelain Palace Acrapolis, or the wastewater treatment plant which lies deep down under the Magical Mystery Sewer. In the case of the University of Log (U of L), it can be found under NCAA (National Colonic Athletic Administration). This is also where the marching band studies how to make under leg noises in synchronized formations.
Here’s an interesting fact that you probably didn’t know: This weekend the University of Log (U of L) plays Log State University (LSU) in the annual Toilet Bowl. U of L is ranked #2 in the conference.
On the other hand, if you’re actually asking if the U of L is located in Australia then the answer is “no.”
Here’s another interesting fact that you probably didn’t know: They say that when you flush the toilet in Australia the water spins the opposite way from here in North America because it’s located south of the equator. The real reason is because most people in Australia are left-handed, and therefore the handle is on the opposite side of the toilet, and consequently the water spins in the opposite direction.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. I stink, therefore I am.
Lumber Jack wrote:
My logs roll like toothpaste. Anyway, Dear Log, There's a log rolling contest coming up, and I wonder if you would point Out the differences between rolling a log and rolling a joint. Bury Chris'smess and Booger Gluemirror! Slumberin Lumber
Dear Lumber Jack,
I AM LOG!!! Rolling a joint and rolling a log are actually very similar. The main difference between rolling a joint and rolling a log is that when you roll a log you wind up with a lawn cigar, which can be smoked just like a joint. A similar occurrence takes place in the movie Up In Smoke where Chong describes his gigantic joint as being part Labrador, and then again later when Cheech wonders what Great Dane is like.
On the other hand if you’re referring to that silly competition where grown men try to balance on a log until one of them falls in, well that’s a whole different story. Here’s the story of how that all got started:
Once upon a time there was a guy named Larry. This particular Larry was a Lumber Jack way back in the days of Paul Bunyan. In those days there were two main concerns in working around Paul Bunyan: 1. It took all freakin’ day to prepare a meal for him, and 2. He would often take a dump without giving any warning whatsoever, unless you happened to notice him dropping his drawers. Later on as a matter of courtesy it was Paul Bunyan who started the term “Look out below!”
One day Larry and another guy (who also happened to be named Larry, but that’s another story) drew the short straws and got stuck with the awful task of picking Paul Bunyan’s nose. Back then nobody made handkerchiefs big enough, and Paul Bunyan had a habit of plugging one huge nostril and blowing through the other nostril and sending a 300 lb. booger flying through the air with the velocity of a meteor entering the Earth’s atmosphere. It was because of this particular habit of Paul Bunyan that eagles soon became endangered specie.
Nobody thought much about the eagles back then, but then one day Paul Bunyan was passing by a local elementary school and he did the old “plug one and blow the other” method.” This was unfortunate for a small little girl with no friends who was sitting on the Teeter-Totter all by herself hoping that someone would play with her. Suddenly a 300 lb. booger landed on the other side of the Teeter-Totter and the poor little girl was launched 60 feet through the air before landing in a gigantic turd that Paul Bunyan had failed once again to give any type of adequate warning.
Well needless to say, this got the local Log Enforcement Officers (LEO) as well as the local Poop & Turd Association (PTA) all in an uproar, and soon legislation was passed requiring that Paul Bunyan’s nose be hand picked on a regular basis (much to the dismay of the Lumber Jacks that had to work around Paul Bunyan), and as an extra punishment Paul Bunyan was required to deposit his mighty turds in the nearest lake, which later became known as Lake Shiticaca.
And so getting back to the story… The two Larrys soon found themselves up to their ankles in Paul Bunyan’s nostrils. Because of this they had no way of knowing that Paul Bunyan had walked over to the lake, dropped his drawers, yelled “Look out below!” for the very first time, and then took a dump in the lake. And then as he was pulling up his drawers and admiring his work Paul Bunyan suddenly had to sneeze, and since nobody had passed any laws yet requiring him to give any warnings when he sneezed he went right ahead and did so; and since the two Larrys hadn’t been given any type of warning they had no chance to at least grab a nose hair and hold on for dear life. The result was that the two Larrys shot out of Paul Bunyan’s nostrils like two arrows soaring through the air. They spun themselves around in mid-air so they could see where they were flying, only to find themselves embedded head first in Paul Bunyan’s enormous turd.
As the two Larrys balanced precariously on their shoulders their weight soon caused the mighty turd to roll over in the lake. The two Larrys were then able to pull their heads out of the giant turd only to find themselves drowning in Paul Bunyan’s toilet bowl. They quickly grabbed a hold of the nearest floating object, which still happened to be the giant turd, and pulled themselves up. They then found themselves standing on a gigantic log in the middle of the lake. Well it was only a matter of time before one of them leaned too far the wrong way, and in a desperate struggle to remain on top of the turd the two Larrys ran like hell to stay on top only to cause the log to spin faster and faster.
This caused quite a spectacle and soon all of the other Lumber Jacks were gathered at the lake shore cheering to two Larrys on. Just then the supervisor showed up and yelled at the two Larrys “HEY YOU SHITHEADS GET BACK TO WORK!!!” This distracted the two Larrys just long enough to send them both tumbling into the lake. All of the other Lumber Jacks laughed their asses off at this, and they decided to make a sport out of it. And that’s how the Log Rolling Competition was born.
Thank you for your question. I AM LOG!!! Don’t tread on me.
Dear Guest:
I AM LOG!!! How dare you contaminate this part of the board with that Bruce Springsteen crap? Tracy never should’ve pulled that ghetto blaster out of Ryan’s ass in Eugene. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. Mark my turds!
I AM LOG!!! The fertilizer will soon be impacting with the air conditioning.
People of the full latrines… I have returned! Okay then, in retaliation for posting a Bruce Springsteen song on this part of the board I’ve decided to take drastic measures. Oh sure, I could always just delete the damn song but what would that prove? Therefore I decided that song really needs a good thrashing, and who better to destroy a song than that Dandy Undisputed Master of Parody (DUMP) himself, Tracy (Never had a nickname) McCall, who also happens to be my Attorney at Log. Here’s what Tracy had to say:
“Dear Log,
YOU ARE LOG!!! Soooooooooooooooooooooooo… you say you’re having problems with people posting Bruce Springsteen songs on your part of the board? Well fear not! I’ll just take that song and give it a good working over, and in no time at all… Presto! Post this song on your part of the board and I’m pretty sure you won’t have any more problems with Bruce Springsteen fans.
Sincerely,
Tracy (Never had a nickname) McCall”
Gee, now if only Piston McCauffey was here to do the intro…
Born To Suck (Sung to the tune of Born To Run by Bruce Springsteen)
Every day I become more weary of listening to that 80’s top 40 crap
The lack of talent led directly to the evolution of rap
Sprung from the minds of strung out teens
Who glorify suicide and death
And posing for adult magazines
Baby this town produces more trailer trash
It’s a handicap, it’s a pile of crap
Better escape in your pickup truck
‘Cos bands like us, baby we were born to suck.
Baby let me in I wanna be your friend
Which means I only want to get in your pants
I wanna yell “Oh God!” as I shoot my wad
If you’ll only give me a chance
Together we’ll make babies we can’t afford
We’ll breed like rabbits, we’ll never stop
‘Cos that’s what welfare is for
And I’ll never have to look for a job
And I’m sure that everybody can see
That I need to have kids
‘Cos the world needs more people like me.
In the men’s room stall the house band is busy shooting up junk
Women act like they know to sing and dance
And the men just want to get drunk
The place is packed with people with no place to go
And they think every song the band plays is good
‘Cos they’ve heard it on the radio.
The airwaves are jammed with one hit wonders who soon will realize
That they couldn’t produce another hit
If you threatened to shoot them between the eyes
Together baby, you should stick with me
‘Cos you’re the only groupie we’ve got
Oh sure you’ve got some junk in the trunk
And your chest if flat
And your face doesn’t look at that hot
But maybe you’ll bring us good luck
But till then bands like us
Baby we were born to suck.
I AM LOG!!! And even the “Boss” must answer nature’s call.
This may seem like a stupid question but it is a scientifically almost proven opinion I'm looking for here. What came first? The chicken or the chicken dropping? Sound stupid ??? Think about it. It goes deeper than you think. That's why Log does this science part of the questioning as a public service. ( I secretly know the guy, ----he's proof that white men can jump over passed out winos) Thanks in advance SKYPILOT 18
Dear Skypilot 18,
I AM LOG!!! A stupid question? Don’t be silly. Your question is actually part of the curriculum in the Philosophy class at the University of Log (U of L). Another question they spend a lot of time pondering is what is the sound of one buttock farting? But your question involves chickens, their droppings, and the chronological sequence of their creation.
Now then, most smart-asses think the answer to your question is incredibly obvious, but what do they know? They’re probably mistaking your question for the question that asks “Which came first, the chicken or the egg?” This question was addressed by none other than Tracy (Never had a nickname) McCall back in 1977 during his Advanced Speech class. Tracy pointed out that if we apply the same question to humans then the answer would have to be that the grown up came first because a human baby would never be able to grow into adulthood without eating a rock or some other poisonous type of substance and dying, and therefore the chicken must have come before the egg.
However, your question asks whether chickens or their droppings came first, and of course there are all those smart-asses out there that will automatically think the chicken came first, well don’t you pay them any mind because they don’t know Jackshit. Now then, let’s examine the facts that will lead us to a logical conclusion…
We’ve established that the chicken came before the egg, however, when the egg comes out of the chicken it’s usually smeared with chicken droppings. Therefore, the chicken droppings had to exist before the egg. Now we only have to prove that the chicken droppings came before the chicken.
In order for the chicken droppings to exist before the chicken we must first prove that the universe is not perfect, and is therefore subject to unforeseen variations in the laws of physics.
In order to prove that the universe is not perfect consider the following: 1. If God really created everything and is so damned all-knowing and perfect then why does He posses such human weaknesses as jealousy and vengeance? 2. If God really created everything then that means He also created chickens, turkeys, ostriches, emus, and penguins; those are five species of birds that can’t even fly.
Now that we know that neither God nor the universe is perfect we can now bend the laws of physics to meet our own personal needs. With that in mind we can now propose the following sequence of events: 1. God created the chicken first, but the chicken did not yet exist upon the Earth. 2. When God held out the chicken and commanded it to go forth and be fruitful and multiply He hadn’t taken into consideration that He hadn’t bothered to give the chicken the ability to fly. 3. The chicken, unaware of its inability to fly said unto itself “Bwock bwock, I’m so happy to be alive that I could just shit!” 4. And it did, but before God had let go of it. 5. Then God released the chicken, and because of gravity all things fall at the same rate of speed, and since the chicken droppings had been released first it was the droppings that impacted with the Earth and now existed just seconds before the chicken (which by now had figured out that it couldn’t fly) came crashing down and landed in it’s own droppings and came into existence just seconds after the droppings did.
And so there you have it… The chicken droppings existed before the chicken.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. In Log we trust.
Dear Log, Winnie the Pooh made an interesting reference to dipping honey. According to CoalSpeak (
http://www.coalregion.com/Speak/speakH.htm), a honey dipper is a "person who cleans out the contents of an outhouse." We have had lively discussions about outhouses in your column, but how the Sam Hill did a person who cleans an outhouse come to be called a "honey dipper?" That's what I'd like to know. I figure everyone else wants to know too, probably. We know you know because YOU ARE LOG!!! How 'bout you tell us there. Thanks, Airy PS They never did let us back in the computer room at the library. We just hung out in the john and asked patrons for fifty cents on Christmas eve. You'll have to tell us the Yule Log story next year if you want. Say! Oh, never mind. I'll ask you about the etymology of "john" next time, otherwise you'll get me on that "one question" rule of yours.
Dear Airy,
I AM LOG!!! Ever since Adam got put in charge of naming everything humans have continued to come up with the damnedest names for things. Whether it’s calling a spade a spade or giving your son a girl’s name to ensure that he’ll be regularly beaten up at school every day, humans always have their motives for naming things.
Strangely enough, in order to answer your question we have to go all the way back to the guy named Larry, who invented the outhouse. As you’ll recall Larry had finally demonstrated the advantages of the outhouse to his neighbors, and as a result Larry became fabulously wealthy. So wealthy, in fact, that soon Larry got married because as we all know, any woman will marry any man even if he’s short, fat, and bald as long as he’s fabulously wealthy.
One day, after a couple years or so of wedded bliss, Larry’s wife (who was also named Larry for reasons that I haven’t figured out yet) went out to the outhouse to jettison her cargo only to discover that the outhouse was filled to the brim. Being a woman she immediately yelled out “HONEY, THE OUTHOUSE IS FULL!!! DIP A BUCKET IN THERE AND SCOOP IT OUT!!!”
Meanwhile, Larry (the guy, not his wife) was in the barn hard at work on his latest invention – A Poop Scoop that would eventually revolutionize parades that featured horses, elephants, and any other life forms that found it convenient to crap in the street as they marched merrily along. When Larry heard his wife’s request he thought to himself “I don’t have time for this crap!” And so Larry suggested that his wife go out and hire somebody else to empty out the outhouse.
This turned out to be a lot more difficult than either of them expected because although Larry’s outhouses were wildly popular nobody had considered the possibility that an outhouse could be filled up, and once it became apparent to the general public that outhouses could indeed be filled to the brim and in need of emptying, nobody wanted the job.
Fortunately, Larry’s wife was fooling around with the farmhand, who was also named Larry but that’s another story. Anyway, Larry’s wife, being the shameless hussy that she was, summoned the farmhand to the outhouse, handed him a bucket and said “Honey, dip this into the outhouse and scoop it out until it’s empty and good as new.” And then she gave him a seductive wink as if to suggest that there was a great reward involved.
And so the farmhand, who wasn’t very smart to begin with, took the bucket and went into the outhouse where he dipped the bucket into the nearly overflowing pit and scooped up a big bucket of crap. He then stepped out of the outhouse and asked Larry’s wife where he should dump the bucket, and of course Larry’s wife suggested that the only natural solution was to bury the crap.
After about an hour and a half of digging it finally occurred to the farmhand that it made more sense to just dig a new hole and move the outhouse, rather than empty out the outhouse into a fresh pit. And so a couple more hours later the farmhand had completed digging the new pit. He then took a rope and tied it around the outhouse and dragged it over the new pit. Unfortunately, the farmhand was not the architectural genius that Larry was, and because of that he neglected to put a floor over the new pit for the outhouse to sit on, and naturally the outhouse fell right into the new pit.
Right about that time Larry came walking out of the barn and immediately noticed that his outhouse was missing. He walked over to where the outhouse use to be and noticed that there was nothing left but a hole full of crap. He then looked around and noticed the farmhand standing next to a hole. Larry walked over, looked into the hole and found his outhouse lying at the bottom of the pit. Larry became furious, and since he suspected all along that the farmhand had been fooling around with his wife, Larry fired him on the spot.
Larry then called to his wife “Honey, could you come here a minute?”, and as she walked toward Larry she walked right over where the outhouse use to be and fell right into the still full to the brim pit of poo. As she fought valiantly to keep from sinking she called out to Larry “Honey, can you give me a hand?”
Larry simply picked up the bucket that started all of this and tossed it to his wife, who replied “Well I’ll be dipped!”
And so you see how that annoying practice of married people calling each other “Honey” all the time, combined with the necessity of buckets for emptying out outhouses because vacuum cleaners hadn’t been invented yet, led to combining the two words “Honey” and “Dip”. Eventually, all of the outhouses of Larry’s neighbors got full also, and Larry, being the opportunistic genius that he was, put his future plans for the Poop Scoop on hold and launched himself into his new company called Larry’s Crap Removal Service. This required hiring a lot of new help, and since nobody would answer a want ad for a Crap Remover Larry decided to refer to them as “Honey Dippers”. Although, calling them Honey Dippers didn’t really do much good once the job applicants discovered what the job description was.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. May the turd of paradise fertilize your lawn.
PS. I will soon deal with Mr. Doo Dah.
Dear Wally,
I AM LOG!!! Okay, we all had a good laugh with the Bruce Springsteen bit but now you’re pushing the envelope a little too far, so I’m afraid I’m going to have to take disciplinary measures with you. However, since I must maintain my reputation for being kind and fair I’ll have to dump off the dirty job on someone else. I thought maybe Tracy could write another parody song, but that would only encourage trouble makers like you, and besides that here’s what Tracy had to say on the subject:
“Dear Log,
YOU ARE LOG!!! The song in question is entirely too simplistic to bother writing a parody of it, plus it really only demonstrates the lack of musical taste in the person who submitted it.
Sincerely,
Tracy (Never had a nickname) McCall”
And so I gave Angry Bald Man a call figuring we haven’t heard from him in a while, and he’s always good for a laugh. Angry Bald Man replied, and I quote: “WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS COMING TO ME WITH YOUR FREAKIN’ PROBLEMS???!!! AREN’T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE THE PRESIDENT OR SOMETHING???!!!”
Seeing that I wasn’t going to get any cooperation out of him either I quickly gave up on Angry Bald Man. And so it seems I’ll have to take the Log into my own hands; I can do that because after all… I AM LOG!!! So I sat down and thought really hard for about… oh, five minutes or so and then it struck me. What I need to do is to enlist the assistance of the most evil person on the planet, and so I called Tracy again. Here’s how that little conversation went:
(Sound of a phone ringing and then being picked up, followed by the sound of throwing up in the background)
Tracy: (Cough, gag)… Uh… Hello?
Log: I AM LOG!!!
Tracy: Now what do you want?
Log: Forget about the parody song; I have a better idea.
(Sound of Tracy hocking a loogie in the background)
Tracy: What is it?
Log: Y’know that story you’ve been working on about invading Amsterdam?
Tracy: I haven’t had time to work on it for a while, but yeah.
Log: Could you do me a favor and have Wally Doo Dah killed in the story?
Tracy: Uh, yeah I guess so.
Log: And kill him off in some spectacularly degrading way, like you did with Sir Ainsley.
Tracy: Okay, whatever…
(The sound of Tracy resuming throwing up can be heard in the background. Ironically, also in the background is the sound of Tracy’s stereo playing that old Paulie Family song, Pukin’ Out My Backdoor, which goes like this…)
Pukin’ Out My Backdoor (Sung to the tune of Lookin’ Out My Backdoor by Creedence Clearwater Revival)
Just got home from drinkin’ all night
Bathroom door is locked tight
Got to throw up, don’t care if you disagree
Holdin’ it in will kill me
So pretty soon I will be
Puke, puke, puke pukin’ out my backdoor.
Caterpillar harried
Up to his neck buried
Look at the big ass crop circle I left on the lawn
I don’t feel too jolly
Here comes the next volley
Puke, puke, puke pukin’ out my backdoor.
Roarin’ like an elephant with his balls caught in a vice
Better get the hose to wash away those chunks, doo doo doo
Makes a good week killer
And a pothole filler
Puke, puke, puke pukin’ out my backdoor.
Roarin’ like an elephant with his balls caught in a vice
Better get the hose to wash away those chunks, doo doo doo
Makes a good week killer
And a pothole filler
Puke, puke, puke pukin’ out my backdoor.
Just got home from drinkin’ all night
Bathroom door is locked tight
Look at the big ass crop circle I left on the lawn
Piss off, don’t come near me
Unless you want to hear me
Puke, puke, puke pukin’ out my backdoor.
And so there you have it, Mr. Doo Dah. You are hereby sentenced to die a most unpleasant and embarrassing death in a story that doesn’t seem to have any ending in sight, and as an added insult there will always be much better, and much funnier songs to post here than any songs you can think of.
I AM LOG!!! How do you like them crapples?
Tracy’s Brother wrote:
She could talk too squirells. What the fuck are you doing now? (Tracy got fingered) Angry Bald man called and said I should knock you upside the head. I'm just gonna pay Paul to give you a lap dance while he spanks himself and yells I am the Buffalo. He'll do anything for a Tecate.
Dear Tracy’s Brother,
I AM LOG!!! She could talk to squirrels? What the hell does that mean? Not only does it not make any sense but you didn’t spell it right either, which only leads me to believe that you really are Tracy’s brother. I called Tracy up and he said the only thing on him that’s been fingered lately is his nose.
And I know for a fact that Angry Bald Man never called you because Angry Bald Man never calls anybody. In fact, all he does is sit at home waiting for the phone to ring so he can yell at whoever is calling him.
I then asked Tracy about Paul doing lap dances and he had this to say:
“Dear Log,
YOU ARE LOG!!! The last time Paul did anything for a Tecate all he did was follow me into a Mexican restaurant. And the last time he spanked himself and claimed to be a buffalo was back when he inadvertently thought that he could write better parody songs than I can, and then he proceeded to fail miserably by attempting to write a parody of I Am The Walrus.
By the way, tell my brother that dad is pissed off at him for having kids that he can’t afford, and mom is pissed off at him because he never sends pictures of all those kids he can’t afford.
Sincerely,
Tracy (Never had a nickname) McCall”
Okay then, as far as your actual question goes I’m sitting here on my throne in my majestic Porcelain Palace Acrapolis preparing my annual State of the Toilet Address.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. If you’re happy and you know it crap your pants.
PS. How’s that homeless shelter in Twin Falls working out as a permanent address?
Dear Log, Do women wizz out of their pussies? Your gynolLOGical expertise is needed here on this one. Thanks in advance, Mike Humt (get it?)
Dear Mike,
I AM LOG!!! Hey, I used to get phone calls for you all the time at the bar I once worked at. Nobody ever actually left a message; they just wanted to know whether or not you were there.
I’m sorry, but your question is not Log-related. You need to ask Whiz, who lives on the other side of the fence behind me. I’ll forward your question to him, but I can’t guarantee he’ll answer you because he’s usually in a pretty pissy mood.
I AM LOG!!! Spread the turd.
Dear Log, Is a hersey squirt partly dirt? Thanks Oliver Closeoff (get it?)
Dear Oliver,
I AM LOG!!! I’m afraid the answer to your question is “no.” If a Hershey Squirt were partly dirt, then it would be called a “Dirt Squirt.” Ironically though, a Hershey Squirt is often referred to as a “Mudslide.”
Here’s an interesting fact you probably didn’t know: If you do a Hershey Squirt on an ice cream cone it will harden into a crunchy shell around the ice cream.
This was discovered by a former Dairy Queen employee named Larry, who while having a really bad day at work tried to wipe his butt with an ice cream cone to soothe his hemorrhoids. The result was disappointing for Larry, but not as disappointing as when he came out of the employee’s restroom carrying a squashed ice cream cone with hardened Hershey Squirt all over it. A customer pointed to it and said “I’ll have that!”, and Larry handed it over with an attitude of total indifference.
The customer took one bite and declared “This tastes like crap!” and demanded to see the manager.
By the time the manager got there Larry had already said “The hell with this crap!”, and walked off the job.
The manager eventually put two and two together and decided to replace the number two with melted chocolate instead, and the rest is history. Unfortunately, Larry never knew just how close he had come to inventing a new and popular item on the Dairy Queen menu, and eventually Larry died as a result of continuing to try and heal his hemorrhoids on his own rather than seek medical help.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question. May the flush be with you.
AndyJ wrote:
Dear Log, just what is the state of the poonion and what is its address?
NOTE: Remember, he’s British.
Dear Andy J,
I AM LOG!!! I’ll start with the easy part. The address is: Porcelain Palace Acrapolis, #2 Hershey Highway, Land of Log.
Now then, on with the State of the Poonion. By the way, your timing is perfect because I always give my State of the Poonion Address on Ground Log’s Day. Ground Log’s Day is the day when I emerge from my Porcelain Palace Acrapolis to find out whether or not I can see my shadow. I’m happy to report that I did indeed see my shadow, and so it looks like an early spring is on the way. If I hadn’t seen my shadow it would mean six more weeks of diarrhea, because as I’m sure we all know, diarrhea doesn’t cast a shadow.
The State of the Poonion is very good. During the last 12 months of the Fecal Year I once again thwarted all attempts to overflow my government. I’m also happy to announce that our currency, the restroom token, is as strong as ever and people everywhere are standing in lines waiting to spend their restroom tokens. This is good for the Gross National Poop (GNP), which is the total amount of turds and services generated over the past Fecal Year. I have total confidence that the next 12 months will be equally profitable.
By the way, I understand that you’re from England. Some of my all-time favorite bands are from England, such as The Dung Beetles, The Yardturds, and Log Zeppelin. I was also deeply saddened when John Buttwhistle of The Poo died. I once saw The Poo in concert when they were doing their Squatrophenia Tour. Boy, that Excrete Townsend is one hell of a songwriter.
I AM LOG!!! Thank you for your question.
PS. Log Save The Queen!
