Abecedarian (a-be-ce-da’-ri-an): An acrostic whose letters do not spell a word but follow the order (more or less) of the alphabet.
BM. Crap. Dump. Excrement. Feces. Guano. I’ve placed these words in alphabetical order to emphasize their importance. We come into contact with poop, one way or another, every day (with luck). Accompanied by toilet paper we send the poops away, draining in a whirlpool of water, sometimes leaving a crusty stain on the back of the toilet bowl.
I am chronically constipated. It started when I was around sixty-five. I would sit on the toilet for twenty minutes, pushing and grunting. Eventually I would let loose little poops that looked like M&Ms, without the colored candy shells. My colonoscopy doctor, Dr. Canal, recommended I take “Mirapoop.” Accordingly, I’ve been taking “Mirapoop” every night for 15 years. Now, when I poop in the morning, after my coffee, its like a peeled hard-boiled egg shooting out my ass. There’s one short bleating sound and the toilet quakes a little, followed by a loud splashing sound, and finally, the sound of waves gently lapping the sides of the toilet bowl. It’s quite spectacular. I considered posting it on TikTok, but couldn’t because I am unable to figure out how to mount my cellphone under my toilet seat.
Anyway, when I first learned I was chronically constipated, I did some research on the World Wide Web. I found an organization that offered a certificate in “Constipology.” I applied, was accepted, paid the fee, and diligently studied. I received my certificate and became a Constipologist. I decided to do some research into the cultural foundations of constipation, mainly, it’s meaning and place in different cultures. I ran across a cult located in Montana, “Stools of Faith,” that revered its chronically constipated members, respecting their toilet bravery and believing their little hard-won poops had the power to bring luck. So, they made bracelets, charms, and earrings out of the little poops and wore them for good luck. Many of them had more than one piece of poop jewelry believing the more little poops they wore, the more luck they would have. I saw some pictures of cult members covered in poop jewelry, and they looked quite attractive. Some of the poop had been studded with semiprecious stones, and also, mounted with precious gems. The lucky poop thing may have been true. Members of the cult repeatedly won the lotto and they each drove a black Maserati. Unfortunately, the jewelry is only available to cult members and not for sale outside of the cult.
When I told my wife what I had learned she said “No shit?” and laughed.
Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu)
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