Yes, It's about Poop

I didn't know whether to be flattered or offended when I received an unsolicited email yesterday that went something like this:

Hello Ruth,

Bla bla bla crap. Bla bla bla poop. Bla bla bla your name came up.

The story of my life, no?

Serves me right for, um, evacuating my thoughts about the phenomenon of withholding (and I'm not talking about taxes) in a blog post three years ago entitled The Excrementalist Speaks.

I remember feeling strangely liberated at the time - as if I had stepped out of a universal water closet and intentionally did not flush.

But those revealing insights paled in comparison to some other foul-smelling tidbits of mine that curiously made it into print through the years - tidbits I need not even elaborate on here but tidbits that nonetheless validate my status as an excrementalist extraordinaire. Plastic black flies and all.

Apparently, when one is a devoted student and philosopher of all things crap, shit gets around.

Still not sure how I feel about that, but I'm sure it'll pass.