The CEO and the Fungus Farm

It is a sad day here at The Corporation. I just heard that (sniff!) my company's CEO has lost a major fight. The fight was to keep the ants in his ant farm alive. The farm remains, but the tunnels are empty.

The Ant Farm: Then


The Ant Farm: Now

Last June, I posted a tongue-in-cheek piece entitled, "The CEO and the Ant Farm," where I compared the running of the ant farm, perhaps, to the running of the corporation. I'm not a big believer in omens, but word just filtered down from those that have long meetings and take even longer lunches that bonuses will not be very good this year. The company is not performing as expected. (Dum-Da-Dum!)

We'll see what happens. I do believe in the circle of life though, and maintain my optimism that life and rebirth can spring from death. Why, just take a closer look at the ant farm for example:

The Fungus Farm. Yuck.

Sick and inspirational, just the way I like it. But for Christ's sake: Dear CEO, take that see-through ant-coffin off of your desk already. It was once an interesting conversation piece. Now, it's a white, oozing, syphilitic elephant in the room.

Advertisement for New Chris Rock Show

UPN's new show, "Everybody Hates Chris" is inspired by "Chris Rock's life as a kid." I do love Chris Rock, especially the wonderful things he produced after escaping from SNL Hell. The advertisements for this new show are popping up everywhere around town: Billboards, bus stops and. . .homeless people.

I know that this poor guy must have acquired this shirt in some roundabout manner; however, the cynic and slightly paranoid guy in me thought, "What a great way to advertise a new show." I first saw this guy at about 10:00 a.m. I then reencountered him two hours later about a mile away from the original sighting, walking down the busiest street in Chicago:

I hope that there wasn't any marketing mind behind how this guy got the shirt. I am almost postive there wasn't any maketing madness to the method in which this guy got the shirt. But, I wouldn't be surprised if there was.

Excremental Enlightenment

The shit I just took cleansed my soul. I was happy that I got downtown about an hour early today, so I could put-put around with my coffee and read a book before I started my daily drudgery, but about halfway through my Grande Mocha, the coffee's diuretic effects hit.

So, about forty-five minutes before my 9:00 a.m. start time, I exit the elevator to my office floor, scuttling along with clenched butt cheeks. The Big Boss saw me signing in early, and gave me a spirited "Good morning."He was actually very chipper, which is the complete flip-side of his normal demeanor. I returned his "good morning," finished signing in at the empty reception desk, and gave him a polite but determined, "I'll talk to you later. I've got a project deadline I'm trying to head off."

"All right! You have a good one!" He said like a Zig Zigler disciple of a high-school football coach. At this point my stomach was gurgling, and I didn't know how much longer I could delay the coming fecal explosion. With butt-cheeks clenched tight enough to iron a crease in your favorite pair of pants, I turned to rush off to the bathroom. I tried to not walk like a penguin with hemmoroids.

The Big Boss gave me a parting head nod that suggested, “Now that’s what I like to see!”

With an internal “phew” that I didn’t get sucked into a long conversation with the him, I started power walking towards the shitter. The closer I got to the bathroom, the greater the pains in my stomach increased. Then, steps away from the door to relief, a great pain in my stomach made me double over. I’m a guy, therefore I don’t know, nor will I ever know, what labor pains feel like, yet my imagination and uncanny ability at probable comparison tells me that this was close. Bent over and breathing heavy, the pain punched me in the gut repeatedly. I thought I was going to spray a volcano hole through my pants at that moment.

Somehow, I didn’t shit myself. I reached up for the door handle, and entered the bathroom.

Well, I made it to the stall. What ensued in that poor, poor toilet bowl was more like spraying fiberglass onto a wall than a normal and healthy bowel movement. The relief? Immediate. The extent of the relief? Blissville, baby. I felt myself grow lighter emotionally, spiritually and, well, literally (I felt like I could glide on air currents, like a feather, forever).

I emerged from the bathroom feeling like a new man. You see, I have been going through quite a few personal and relationship problems lately, but at this one perfect moment, in the calm of the aftermath and subsequent relief from the fecal explosion, I felt connected to the divine. My girlfriend troubles didn’t matter. My other personal problems were just minor speedbumps in my life-road.
It is now an hour after my relief, and the good energy hasn’t dissipated. The gloom and doom that had been surrounding my life hasn’t returned. To top it all off, I just got a call from the Big Boss. Apparently, he has a special project for me to work on. This project could lead to "bigger and better things."

Consequently, I have found myself in a better place spiritually and perhaps financially, all because of a massive and rejuvenating dump. I feel like I'm on the verge of discovering something new, of reaching a new level of enlightenment. Though mentioned in jest in Truly You Are The Corn, perhaps there is something to this philosophy I have called Excrementilism. I'm only seeing the tip of the iceburg right now (not unlike the "iceburg" shits that we have all taken, where a tiny turd-tip juts out of the toilet bowl water). Is this a process of becoming through better BM's? That remains to be seen, but I must enjoy this moment of happiness and release while it lasts. . .

Dear Plagiarist,

While doing some routine web searches and vanity searches for this blog, I came across your site. I have heard that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery; however, simply posting my writing on your site without any acknowledgement or link back to this blog smells like plagiarism to me.

I am flattered that you found my writing interesting enough to post, and I have sent you an e-mail containing a link to this posting. This is my attempt to give you the benefit of the doubt. Acknowledge this blog with copious and blatant links, or please remove my material from your site.

Thank you!