porkjerky plog
The Speed Of Shit
Good news boys and girls, its time for another edition of the shitty applications of science. Today’s subject: the speed of shit.
Is it faster than a speeding bullet? Quicker than a (insert your favorite ethnic slur here) in a (insert place that ethnicity doesn’t like to be)? More speedy than a bolt of lightning, clap of thunder or a blink of an eye?
Probably not, let’s do the math.
Now, don’t let my anomalistic cock and brain fool, nor depress you; physiologically, I am pretty average: 145lbs, 5’9 and I’m good for a crap a day (excluding the sabbath of course) like clock work.
Our old friend Wikipedia tells us that the average small intestines of humans are about 6.5 meters long. Which, since we aren’t snooty, socialistic gay Europeans, means we have about 21.3 feet of them. Meters? Give me a break. Get with the real world wikipedia. Real men who love jesus, don’t rape children and hate terrorist use feet.
It also says (sic) we have 5 feet of large intestines. Add another 2.5 feet for my mouth, esphogus, throat and stomach and then another 1.2 feet for my rectum, vulva, duodenum, prolapsed anus and Ursa minor.
That means all told, from food to turd, that material must travel about 25 feet. And it does it in 24 hours. That makes the speed of shit:
.002 miles per hour
Now for your homework: If my turd leaves New York at 12:00 am on 1/1/2000 and heads in a straight line path for Los Angeles, then I get on a plane, fly to Los Angles and crap out another one heading in a straight line path for New York exactly 24 hours later, how awesome would that be?
Be sure to show your work.
Encylocpedic Shit
What kind of hubris does it take to be the guy who writes the Wikipedia article on ‘shit’? Or god forbid someone who came along later, read it, found errors or omissions that were so glaring in it that it inspired them to edit it? Or worse still, the unwitty fuck who thought they could add something funny to that entry?
There are 36 paragraphs of material on Wikipedia for the ‘shit’ entry. Of course I must caveat that by saying, ‘that is true as of 4/17/2009’. As we all know Wikipedia is a living, breathing, ever expanding greatest thing to ever happen to the internet.
Yes, I know and I stand by that statement. I am not forgetting the hamster dance, the picture of the lady who sucked off that horse, bonsai kitty nor the video of the baby who pissed in his own mouth—I stand by my statement. Wikipedia is the greatest thing to happen to the internet.
Cataloging human knowledge is awesome and just like a scorned Pakistani husband, I carry a vial of acid to throw in the face of all those fucks who say Wikipedia isn’t a good source to turn to when you need to find something out. It truly is awesome and has replaced Google as the place to go to find something out.
But, just like having a cock big enough that you can suck it yourself; there are some downsides that you don’t initially realize. The thing about Wikipedia is that its very blog-like. I, you, and all the figurative and literal retards in the world can all edit it.
Check out the history tab at the top of the ‘shit’ article. There have been over 500 edits/additions to that article in the last 5 years. I know, I know. Science has made great strides in our understanding of shit in the last half-decade, but worthy of 500 edits?
No, its caused by anal pedants and unwitty idiots. Correcting grammar, fixing spelling, inserting ‘Trevor Sucks Cock’ at the end of every sentences and changing all section titles to ‘Red Sox Rules’.
Science Fair Blogging Project
Purpose:
Hypothesis:
Procedures:
Results:
b. both mocking questions
c. 1 was wishful thinking–hoping it would happen, the other did occur, but the person was already an acquaintance.
Conclusion
The Poop Paradox
Not to get all metaphiloshitical on you, but what is a turd?
Are there 4 pieces of crap in the toilet? Or just one?
If 4, then who’s to stop me from breaking those turds down into further turds? Don’t fucking dare me. If you look closely you will see each of the four dooks all are made of easily identifiable sub-parts I like to call pellets. Are those pellets turds? Or can they be broken down further.
If you were heading to St. Ives and met me and I had those four pieces of shit broken down each into four pellets, each pellet I cut in fourths; then how many turds would I have?
I can do the math, I just don’t know what constitutes a turd.
Now, if you said there is really only one turd in the toilet that has been broken into fourths , well then your in for a heap of shit in the other direction. If you truly believe that, then that makes life one giant shitting session for us all. Day in and day out, working on crapping out the next section of the same turd we have been working on since birth. The only way to be finished with the one turd in our life is to die.
And finally, the real conundrum, wrapped in a paradox, dipped in chocolate, rolled in an enigma and fried in a vat of quandary is: Did I actually shit a bubble?
Hell Fucking-A.
Celebrity Scat
Even with the economy in the shitter. Even with the inability to verify it. Even with the laws against it and the policies prohibiting it. I am certain people would figuratively eat up celebritys’ literal shit.
You’re telling me some fat bitch in Ottumwa, IA who reads Us Weekly while watching QVC all day when she is babysitting her grand kids so her daughter can finish her sophomore year of high school wouldn’t pay money to own a turd from Brad Pitt or Julia Roberts?
4 words and 1 link for you: Big Mouth Billy Bass
In 2004, dozens of Ebay auctions sold gum chewed by Britney Spears. And that just barely scratched the surface of her digestive system. Imagine the exponential value added when food is actually swallowed and literally goes through her.
Not only would those losers be buying a piece of celebrity, they would be creating it for themselves. Instead of Margaret, that fat fuck from who can’t walk up a flight of stairs without getting winded and smells so much like soap its like she’s trying to cover something up, she would become Peggy that quirky lady who got interviewed on TMZ and all those radio stations when her bid won a Miley Cyrus turd.
I have been to a lot of the Ottumwa, IA’s of this country. And that turd, winning first prize at the county fair for largest ear of corn and meeting Gary Burghoff is the trifecta for a perfect life in Ottumwa, IA.
Eureka
So, it turns out I’m still a fucking genius. How many of the world’s great ideas do you think were conceived on the toilet? My guess is that the crapper is the leading place and shitting the leading activity for inspiring brilliance.
Uh oh, now my brilliance is inspiring me to be brilliant about inspiring brilliance. Instead of weekend retreats, workshops, brainstorming sessions and synergistic, team-based, creativity exercises in rhetorical bullshit—whenever you need to come up with an idea—feed people a laxative, give them a pen and paper and send them to the shitter.
Ok team, we need a marketing campaign that’s going to make these hunks a shit fly off the shelves. Were pulling out all the stops on this one. No holds bar. I need everyone to wash down their Ex-Lax brownies with their 2 liters of Metamucil, get a pen and paper and pound out some ideas on the john today. Come on people, get in there, open up your asses and brains and let the ideas and crap just flow out of you. I want some real gems coming out of the stalls today.
Sweet god damn, I should be a high priced consultant.
As I was grunting out today’s edition, I was playing with the zipper on my pants. It wouldn’t close all the way, leaving the last 2 teeth at the top unclosed. As the day went on and I moved around it would slowly fall. It was technically broken, but still wearable– I wasn’t quite ready to move it to my broken zipper pants collection—which is quite impressive by the way. For 2 years now I have been breaking zippers every way imaginable and at an alarming rate: zipper tongue snapped off, won’t stay up, completely broken free, gotten off track, rusted shut, zipped close and came and off —you name it—its in my broken zipper pants collection.
I’ve always meant to fix them somehow. Maybe replace the zipper heads with some from thrift store jeans. Solder or super glue the broken zippers. Bend the top teeth to make it work. Maybe replace the whole thing with a button system. That was the problem, I didn’t really know how to fix all the different types of zipper problems I had.
Of course after today’s shit epiphany, those problems have all been solved. I spent the last couple of hours cutting zippers out, measuring the area I had to work with and wait for it, wait for it—replacing my broken zippers with Velcro.
Hot jesus christ awesome. I’m a fucking genius, right?
Velcro to fix broken zippers–What a savant. I’m a pioneering genius, the kind of person who sees the world at just the correct angles to make life that much more better for everyone. Like the first guy to look down as he was doggy styling a chick and go ‘Hey, I’ll be damned. You know what? I bet my dick will fit in her butthole.’
That’s the type of genius I am.
Godly Lip Service
Which is worse, me photoshopping a turd onto a cross replacing Christ or all these fucks who go to church only on Easter and Christmas?
Is intentional or unintentional blasphemy worse?
If I were the head of a religion I think I would find people who pretended to agree with me when it was convenient for them more disgusting than those who openly mocked my beliefs. Then again, I’m probably not the best authority because after a while I’d get bored with it all and jim jones my congregation just for the fun of it.
There’s a church across the street from my house and I see the bump in attendance they get on Easter and Christmas and it always makes me chuckle. Its like people think god only takes attendance on those days. If they show up for just those 2 days a year and blow off all the other Sunday’s they’ll be fine.
I don’t think it matters that I had an abortion 3 months ago, take the lord’s name in vain whenever I god damn feel like it, haven’t been to church in since Christmas and really don’t buy into a lot of that bullshit the priest says. But, as long as I put on a dress and a nice bonnet, throw 5 bucks in the offering plate, pretend to know the words to some songs, show up to church twice a year and eat a cracker from god’s man-servant; then all’s well because God so fucking stupid he’ll think I’ve been there religiously. So to speak.
They do have a point though. I mean come on; there are a lot of churches. God can’t be everywhere and know everything can he?
TGIGF
Remember to not eat meat and to color eggs to hide. It’s what Jesus would have done.
89th Post Spectacular
Not just hell yeah, hell fuck yeah. Today is my 89th blog post spectacular. I’m letting it all hang out, having a celebratory crap and patting my self on the back.
A lot of you fucks thought I was full of shit just figuratively, pooh-poohing on my dream of cataloging all my crap in 2009. Saying my eyes are bigger than my asshole and I would never come close.
Well guess what bitchnuts? I am full of shit literally and you guys are looking pretty dumb right about now. No hard feelings though, stop on by and have a cup of my special celebration punch. It reeks of success.
In all fairness though, you really have to admit I put my asshole where my mouth is and come through thus far.
Shitty Blog Award, Number Something Or Other
Yesterday, after my vocabulary was expanded, I spent the day trying to think of phrases so that I could use my new favorite word everyday for the rest of my life.
Don’t have a labiaplasty man.
This is as awkward as foreskin at a labiaplasty.
Labiaplastastic!
…so, I pumped her twice and gave her a labiaplasty.
Now, I’m not a labiaplastyphobe, but…
You need to get a labiaplasty and stop thinking with your vulva.
I will labiaplasty you back to the stoneage.
Talking to you is like labiaplasting a wall.
I wouldn’t labiaplast her with a 10 foot labiaplastying pole.
Why don’t you go labiaplast yourself?
Anyway, the list goes on and on. After I got bored with that I turned to my good ole friend Google Blog Search. And found another winner of the Porkjerky.com Random Time Interval Shitty Blog Award: The Labiaplasty Nightmare Blog.
Honestly the competition for this one was fierce. I found 44 blogs with the term ‘labiaplasty’ in their titles and I was as giddy as gay guy in a labiaplasty factory. Some were doctors trying to pimp their pussy plastic surgery practices. Others were people who were adamantly against it for either feminist or sexual fetish reasons. If you ask me, and implicitly you did, all were a little too invested in labiaplasty; evidenced by the fact they all started blogs about it.
Ultimately, The Labiaplasty Nightmare Blog won because it truly is a shitty blog and I love me some good schadenfreude.
First and foremost it’s a shitty blog. Its up on Blogger, which allows anyone with 5 minutes, an internet connection and an IQ 65 and above to have a blog. If they made it just a little bit harder the web wouldn’t be in the shape it is. It’s a lot like the thought people put into having kids—fuck like hell, pop the little shit out, try to be a good parent when its convenient for them—anyone can do it and with only minimal effort. Of course, very few try to do it well or even think about it to begin with.
This blog is a shining example of that. She registered, set up her blog and wrote one fucking post. One post and hasn’t been back to it since. Why? Because who gives a fuck—its just a Blogger account, I can write about one thing one time and be done with it and have it junk up the internet for years to come. Thank you Blogger.
Secondly, it won because I love when people not only make stupid decisions and fuck themselves over but actually think I am going to be compassionate for their idiocy when they tell me.
Long funny story short: this cunt had her cunt cut up to make it prettier. Her labia were mismatched and she wanted it fixed—the doctor told her that they could do that and then told her all the other things wrong with her pussy that they could fix with the magical healing powers of a scalpel. Turns out that not only did it physically hurt like a motherfucker but she was emotionally hurt as well.
That’s right, she having pussy buyer’s remorse. Her spiffy new snatch isn’t all it was cut up to be.
And the best part is the cliched ending. Every time I read some stupid bitch’s story, no matter her predicament (abusive relationship, she’s an alcoholic, got raped, she had her pussy sliced up to make it prettier), she always ends it with the feminist anthem—reminding others that they are beautiful in their own right….to be proud of who they are…blah blah blah…love yourself…blah blah blah…inner strength…comfortable with yourself as you are…blah blah blah, puke puke puke. Its like by saying it and pretending to direct it at other people they will hopefully buy their own bullshit and believe it about themselves.
Again, congratulations to The Labiaplasty Nightmare Blog for being such a shitty blog it makes me want to labiaplasty my eyes out.
