I was fine, just fine. Then you had to throw colon cleansing into the pot. I am afflicted by a visual brain that turns analogies into images and films. That is the price of artistic talent and I accept it, but it has a down side. Since I really do “see” what people mean, I sat here watching your Constipation Nation analogy play out.

A good, healthy dose of honest history was like a bottle of Milk of Magnesia – we finally got the sh-tty history out of us and oh my, how much better we felt. Dining on real history is like a bowl full of fresh greens, it feels healthy and right. Everything is flowing again and heading in the right direction. But this analogy has butts…

No screamed the buttheads I refuse to trust MOM. I am not giving up constipation, I own it, it belongs to me, you can’t take it away. The faces of buttheads are scrunched-up in constipation pain, their bodies reek of toxins and foul gasses are exiting both ends. They bathe in expensive eau de toilette and think it covers the smell. It doesn’t.

At this point I’m done. No more MOM for them. The buttheads must do this the hard way. I am ready to lock the bathroom door and deny them exit. If they don’t move their movement forward, they will gas themselves to death. I see no point in staying inside a room full of gas. One spark and they will go boom. The planet can’t handle any more methane and neither can I.

Oh David, do you “see” what you caused?