COLONS: SEMICOLONS; AND WORLD PEACE

September, 2013

I just had a colonoscopy.  It had only been three years since the last Wazoo Watch, but the doctor didn’t want me to slip through the cracks, so to speak.  I guess it’s a rite of aging.  I remember when I was too young for such a procedure.  Oh, the good old days.  I agree with John McEnroe:  “The older I get, the better I used to be.”

What is it about this particular procedure that prompts everyone NOT about to have this particular procedure, to become one-liner stand-up comedians?  Perhaps these same people always seem disproportionately happy because THEY aren’t the chosen ones having to endure the prep. 

Everyone knows the “buns puns” and clichés that become nefarious double entendres sparking uncontained mirth…especially for those NOT pounding down purgatives scientifically designed to make you feel like you’ve just gone 15 rounds with Roto Rooter on steroids.

Enduring the purge leaves one cranky, dyspeptic, peering with an uncomprehending stare at hallucinations of Krakatoa.

So, without filters, (and still in the throes of propofol delirium),  I submit a sampling of the more foolish and preposterous contributions from dear friends who, otherwise, lead lives of devoted sobriety.  Read with caution.  View discretion advised.

1.       Colonoscopies are a crap shoot.

2.       No if’s, ands, or butts…

3.       No runs, no drips, no errors.

4.       Let me know how everything comes out. 

5.       “Blah, blah, blah…where the sun don’t shine.”

6.       Don’t forget you’re still in the flush of life.

Of course, I’m as guilty as the next guy when it comes to disgustingly grubby humor, but it’s usually when I’m going through caffeine withdrawal.  However,  when one is in the midst of “The Prep,” – not ingesting anything solid or fibrous for days and popping tiny red radioactive Dulcolax pills that could double as weapons of mass destruction - followed by a  64-oz. (SIXTY-FOUR OUNCE!!!)  chaser of Miralax laced with  plutonium – my sense of humor goes down the down the toilet.  I was wretched and belligerent.

I exchanged stoic and long-suffering looks with other “preppies,” who were emitting low-level glotallizations and appeared hollow-eyed and dessicated…like dehydrated Yodas.

In a coincidence of unutterably and monumentally bad timing, I had just received a notice from the “Neptune Society,” informing me that they’d provide me with peace of mind if I  pre-pay my cremation.  According to their propaganda, the Neptune Society provides “America’s most trusted cremation services,” at a fraction of the price of traditional funerals.  They further explained that cremation makes sense because it’s much less expensive, and has less impact on the environment.

I had just imbibed spontaneously combustible doses of incendiary liquid intended to strip me of my entire inventory of gut flora and convert my entire innards to a viscous chum slick as I waited to go KABOOM, and someone was offering to reduce me to ashes at discount.  FREAKY!

Well, I began muttering colonoscopy-appropriate sentence- fragments about where they could stick their society, and flushed the shredded ad down the honey-bucket.  I would have donned a haz-mat suit and declared a “fatwa,” but I was tethered in snug proximity to the potty and raging thirst rendered me too weak to shriek anything but empty threats to the universe.

Nevertheless, it made me think…having ample time for reflection.  As I consider the colossal scale of this planet, I have formed a proposal for world peace.  It is simple.  Before decisions are made for retaliation  that might result in global human cremation, perhaps all the world leaders should be forced to do a collective colonoscopy prep.  The idea has merit.

This plan is eco-friendly and has many environmentally- friendly advantages. 

For instance:

1.       Perpetual paranoia would be considerably diminished since it requires pathetic and rapacious quantities of energy to nourish the negative.  The laxative solution would interrupt this cycle.

2.       Profound lack of control of bodily functions prevents hubris and, therefore, strife.  One cannot whack a neighbor when frantically dashing for the potty.

3.       Chronic misapplication of force and resources descend the priority list when one’s guts are transformed by hallucinatory Dulcolax.

4.       Being pathetically impaired by dehydration reduces one’s ability to immolate one’s enemy into detritus.

5.       Emitting Miralax vapor trails is more humane and benign than gassing innocent civilians.

If I ran the world, being in constant prep mode would relax aggression, curb the behavior of those leaders  who are moronically negligent, and perhaps purge the bizarre and erratic  tendencies of megalomaniacs chronically gladiatorial,  bent on using blunt instruments to decrease the surplus population.

Laxatives are not only the answer to world peace, but they are environmentally sound as well.  This could be sublimely gratifying.  And maybe we could all do more with our lives than annihilate each other. 

It just makes sense.