There is an aspect of me that few know about, an aspect about which I am somewhat circumspect. For there are activities that one does not discuss casually in the company of people one does not know well.
My studies in this dark and sinister area came relatively late in life, beginning as I entered my 40’s. Now, with me in my mid-50’s, they have taken on a new urgency.
I speak of Dark Matters...for I am a Master of the Occult.
None of that Harry Potter bullshit for me. That’s kid stuff.
I’m talking Real Occult here: the Fecal Occult Blood Test.
Yes, once a year, I take the dreaded Popsicle Stick o’ Doom and apply the Evil Sample unto the Magic Slide, whence it is delivered unto mine Sawbones, who pronounceth the Verdict: Blood or No Blood in the ol’ Poop-Chute.
Those of my Esteemed Readers who count themselves among the Younger Set may be unfamiliar with theBlack Brown Arts, the exercise of which is undertaken on an annual basis for those of us of a certain age. All ya gotta do is: flush blush. This is because you are dealing with a substance of variable texture and consistency, using a tool that is ill-suited to the job. A Poopsicle Stick, after all, is not an artist’s Palette-Knife.
Nevertheless, there is room for Artistry.
Some folks may opt for a simple, monochrome schmear, but not Elisson. I am a veritabobble Rectumbrandt, a Poocasso of the Stool Sample, applying my sample in bold strokes, using varying thickness and texture to make a Personal Statement.
Perhaps it is the result of that same atavistic instinct that leads toddlers to spread their excrement on the nursery walls like so much peanut butter, an instinct that, in my case, never achieved expression until my latter years as a Master of the Occult.
I am immune to criticism. I know my art stinks. But in what other manner can a painter put so much of himself into his work?
My studies in this dark and sinister area came relatively late in life, beginning as I entered my 40’s. Now, with me in my mid-50’s, they have taken on a new urgency.
I speak of Dark Matters...for I am a Master of the Occult.
None of that Harry Potter bullshit for me. That’s kid stuff.
I’m talking Real Occult here: the Fecal Occult Blood Test.
Yes, once a year, I take the dreaded Popsicle Stick o’ Doom and apply the Evil Sample unto the Magic Slide, whence it is delivered unto mine Sawbones, who pronounceth the Verdict: Blood or No Blood in the ol’ Poop-Chute.
Those of my Esteemed Readers who count themselves among the Younger Set may be unfamiliar with the
- Take a crap.
- Stab that Bad Boy with a Poopsicle Stick, extracting a Core Sample.
- Schmear that sample in a thin layer on the Test Slide, in the little bitty 1/4 inch by 1/3 inch square reserved for that purpose.
- Get another sample from a different part of the Evil Log...or, even better, from the Neighboring Log (should there be one).
- Apply Sample Two to the little bitty square right next to the first little bitty square.
- Fold the flap over and seal the Test Slide. Fill in the requested information on the front panel of the slide.
- Repeat this entire process for the next two times you pinch a loaf.
- Seal the completed set of three slides in handy-dandy foil-lined envelope. Drop the sumbitch in the mail to your physician.
- Figure out what to do with those nasty used Poopsicle Sticks. You can’t flush ’em...
Nevertheless, there is room for Artistry.
Some folks may opt for a simple, monochrome schmear, but not Elisson. I am a veritabobble Rectumbrandt, a Poocasso of the Stool Sample, applying my sample in bold strokes, using varying thickness and texture to make a Personal Statement.
Perhaps it is the result of that same atavistic instinct that leads toddlers to spread their excrement on the nursery walls like so much peanut butter, an instinct that, in my case, never achieved expression until my latter years as a Master of the Occult.
I am immune to criticism. I know my art stinks. But in what other manner can a painter put so much of himself into his work?
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