Please, Santa...Give Me a Potty Poo Dolly: What little girl doesn't dream of waking up on Jesus' birthday and scurrying downstairs to find, beneath the tree, her very own poop machine? It seems in the enchanted kingdom of England Potty Poo Dolly tops every moppet's wish list. It cries, it whines, and when you place the hideous thing on a musical potty, simulated waste spurts from its plastic sphincter. The toy's popularity has prompted doll makers everywhere to fast-track the production of Heavy Flow Barbie (to include a dozen pairs of washable white skorts) and Bulimic American Girl, which periodically pukes into the face delighted freckle-faced girls everywhere.
Poop a la Mode: One day in the glorious nation of Australia, the Whyte family took a break from hurling boomerangs and tying kangaroos down so they could enjoy a lovely lunch at the Coogee Bay Hotel in dazzling Sydney. Unfortch, their dining experience took a sad turn for the scatological when the demure Ms. Whyte, having taken a few bites of her gellato, stood up and shrieked "Crikey! I'm eating poop!" Indeed, after the health department concluded that the gellato was "consistent with feces" the Whytes have filed a lawsuit for a gazillion dollars which reads, in part, that Ms. Whyte is so severely traumatized she can no longer wipe her son's ass. The scandal has led to a startling series of copycat events; in today's economic environment, poop-eating is surprisingly lucrative.
Bitch, whatchoo been eatin? Elsewhere in the Queen's realm (again, we must remark on how so many poop stories originate from the British Commonwealth) a charming lass by the name of Claire Jones excused herself from dinner so she could dash to the loo and wrestle with a bout of diarrhea. Howev, instead of dropping her kids off at the pool, she dropped a baby in el baño. Perturbed that her infant was a "floater" and refused to flush, Claire "Mother of the Year" Jones yanked it out, wrapped it in swaddling clothes and lovingly placed her dead baby in the trunk of her Toyota. Currently on trial for murder, she's encountering a skeptic reaction to her claim that it was the toilet which gave birth. Hey, if some Palestinian bitch can be impregnated by a dove, why can't a commode cough up a womb booger?
It's beginning to look a lot like poop: These are tough times. Everyone's feeling the pinch. So some enterprising folks at the dazzling Miller Park Zoo in Illinois have employed their two reindeer named Ealu and Rika to provide the raw materials for the must-have Yule Tide stocking stuffer of the year: glitter-encrusted reindeer turd Christmas ornaments. Because nothing celebrates the birth of Jesus better than propping up a dead tree in your living room and festooning it with Donner and Blitzen's field plop.
O Poop All Ye Faithful: The nations of the world have their own unique way of celebrating xmas. In America, children drink egg nog, have sugar-induced tantrums and rip the heads off their freshly unwrapped Tickle-me-Elmos. In Italy, they get drunk on Chianti and follow a bitch around with candles in her weave. In Pakistan, they rape a virgin, stone her for adultery and plot a terrorist attack. And in Spain, in the region of Catalonia, it's all about poop. Every nativity scene includes a caganer (or "pooper"), a darling figurine hiking up its robe and pinching a loaf into the straw. Children have endless hours of delight locating the pooper. Is it behind the wise men? Hiding betwixt Joseph and a goat? What fun! They also play a hilarious game called Caga Tió (or "pooping log"), wherein a hollow log is "fed" candy and nuts and placed under a blanket. On Christmas day, to celebrate Our Lord (and the Holy Placenta) squirting from Mary's thighs, they place the Caga Tió in the fireplace and order it to poop. When the brownish glop of melted candy and nuts squirts forth, it's Christmas!! Felíz Navidad!!
UPDATE: Rabid Whup-Ass fan Janet of dazzling Des Moines (recently outed as one of our oft-mentioned underground ninja spies), whilst shopping for faux suede, dutifully snapped this picture of a charming toy that every poop-eating child must have. Sugar plums dance no more in the noggins of your sleeping babes. No, now they dream of eating panda poop. Joyeux Noël!!
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