Poop Shute

Urgent Bulletin!

Reports coming in today from all over the beloved Land Of Poop are... well, they're just plain strange.

The laws of reality we have all come to know and love have gone a little haywire of late. It seems that the laws of physics and even psychological norms of the populace have gone out the window.

"It was weird, man. I mean like one second this chick is a bot brunette with short hair and a rocking hard body, and the next she was curvier chick with long reddish-blonde hair, but still way hot, man. Yeah!"

This report came in from Poop resident Michael Hfuhruhurr early this morning. Apparently Mr Hfuhruhurr's romantic encounter with a local girl took a turn for the strange last night when the young lady's shape began to change form repeatedly.

"By the end she looked like the young school nurse from my elementary school, and if you went to my elementary school you would know I was NOT complaining last night." added a beeming Mr Hfuhruhurr.

Early yesterdy morning Farmer O'tato was awoke to the sound of his prize bull, Rupert, grunting nearby. Not too strange for a farmer you say? The bull was floating outside the farmer's second story window. Apparently, all the animals learned from Rupert's example and by mid-morning all but the chickens had flown off. Strangely the chickens still couldn't wrap their heads around autonomous flight.

The Land Of Poop's top scientists have been tapped to look into what they have officially dubed "some whacked-out shit." What they have revealed is astounding to say the least.

Research team leader, Arkady Sunoffavich, discovered that apparently the Land Of Poop and all its peoples exist only in the mind of its ruler, Lord Knucklehead himself. Every hill, every dale, and even the nubile young friend of Mr Hfurfuhurr are all constructs of a deranged mind. The troubles first began when our great and fearless leader's massive intellect began on the road towards a "horrific deficit in the sleep department" and therefore the "rough approximation of coherrence that we're used to in this bleeped-up place" is sliding predictably downhill. (note: the scientist was not censored, he actually said bleeped. clearly a tight-ass conservative)

Well, this reporter is all for our new and frightening frontier. I say, BULLY FOR US! But I sincerely wish that the fish attempting to engage me in conversation at this time would please give me a moment.

Fish: Sorry, old boy, I was just wondering if you might have any change. I'm trying to catch the next tree out of this joint.

Here, now bugger off, please.

Fish: Thanks, mac. You're allright for a lunger.

As I was saying, I've always been a fan of surrealist expressionism and I welcome our new regime of the bizarre. I mean, the sudden rise in british-isms alone makes this all just the dogs bollocks. Yes, doesn't it just? As long as I still have the ability to communicate clearly to all of our wonderful farvles out there in speeg.

Tomorrow I went out to my blue car and milked her yesternight. I took her shimmering givings and made myself some blue cheese. Mmmmm. Those French really know their cars...

Ahem. Well it appears that the breathmints are getting nicely out of hand. I suppose I should bid you headphones while I can still smeer.

And so he called as he picked up his kite, Berry Freshman to all, and to all a wood fright!



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The above bulletin has an homage to the comic genius that Steve Martin was. Whoever can point it out gets a prize. Sorry Meg, but you're automatically disqualified. Your feminine wiles gained you access to priveleged info.