Home > The Goofy Book 3: The Real Thing > Bookstore Brainwashed Body Control

Bookstore Brainwashed Body Control

Ahhh the surrounding subtle smell of fiber and ink.  The effects of well written words and apparent affinity for alliteration have overcome the greatest minds, taught the highest scholars, and astonishingly caused some entirely predictable bowel movements.

There are forces at work behind bookstores; forces that I believe must be testing some twisted experiment of mind and body control.  Mugatu brainwashed Zoolander with “Relax” (I’m now referencing a movie that nobody has ever considered lining up on their Netflix queue list despite its fair comic value), while Barnes & Noble is commanding my gastrointestinal tract simply by entering their literary domain.  Hell, Books-A-Million and all other large story stores perform some voodoo magic on my ability to make it in and out without discretely visiting the bathroom.

Basically what I’m saying is, bookstores make me shit.  There’s no cleaner way to describe it at this point; this post has already taken a dramatic turn from potential happy thoughts to potential gross out.  I can only imagine that everyone will now cease to read my tales of the toilet unless you’ve experienced the same strange phenomenon or are that wild hot for my writing (I’m flattered, trust me, but don’t expect any late night visits to your sleazy motel room).

This photo is from Madame Noire

Only men could understand this issue because I was told women didn't poop, but that orifice has to be used for something...

What is it about bookstores?  Small airport ones don’t do the trick nor do magazine stands or even public, decrepit libraries .  Although, I’m not 100% certain of this claim as my visit to the local library is seldom to none.  It’s only major retail outlets that are capable of convincing my colon that its time to sit down and release some weight.  Aside from needing a new novel to read, I did have a big dinner coming up at my imaginary girlfriend’s house and I needed to free up some real estate to make room.

This photo is from Kirssatin Kristin&Joe's Photostream.

PICTURED: shelf after shelf of visual laxatives

We’ve all heard of how a man’s privacy is found in the bathroom.  In this tiled or linoleum floored haven he can sit back, drop his pants, and relax for a few minutes; maybe even finish flipping through his newest Playboy magazine (he reads it for the opinions and articles, honest…).  If this peaceful tranquility was achieved in a bookstore while sitting down with a hearty book on one of the couches between the Fantasy and Travel sections or on one of the chairs in the mandatory in-store coffee shop, then I’d be a bit more understanding.  However, I can  barely manage to hunt down the aisle of my favorite author before nature calls.

This photo is from givesgoodemail blog.

This is why Borders went out of business. Too many dueces were being dropped in the children's section.

Take all of this as a public service announcement to your own personal health.  As you grow in age or as you’re loved ones grow in age (waving fists at kids on your lawn is a subject matter we’ll reach in time), keep a mental note that if severe constipation ever plagues your fragile life, find your nearest neighborhood bookstore and loosen up those bowels.  After all, you’ll feel lighter and your pants will fit better.  It might be that time again to go drop the kids off at the pool.

Now voice your opinion: out of the endless selection within a bookstore, what magazine or book to pick as a quick replacement for toilet paper?   A thick, soft paper classic like  A Tale of Two Cities or stiff, glossy pages of celebrity gossip?  Choose your own adventure and wipe to page 53.

  1. 2011/11/07 at 6:35 pm

    Haha I like the ending….very witty!

  2. 2011/11/30 at 10:37 am

    Diggin’ it bro, diggin’ it. Thanks for sharing the poop goodness with your homies at HSSS.

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