A very special 40 Foot Buffet column providing proof that the Theoretical Formula of Comedy (tragedy + time = comedy) is correct. Additional exploration of the Theoretical Formula of Comedy can be found here. Enough time has now based that we may laugh at my tragedy.
I am laid up in bed with sweet, sweet Viki* recovering from . . . and I’m not making this up for cheap laughs (though they are gladly accepted at this point) . . . an internal lateral sphincterotomy. Rather than waste my Vicodin high explaining it, just Google some videos for the time being. (CAUTION ON VIEWING VIDEOS: NSFW. Or safe for anyone other than trained professionals.)
Rather than the sphincterotomy to cure my ailment, I had requested a replacement anus with a new titanium model but my colorectal surgeon said I did not qualify. What’s more, you cannot get the titanium replacements in the States yet, as there has not been enough testing. Medical tourism to India or Germany was an option, but, sadly, not feasible, money-wise and butt-wise – there was no way I was going be able to sit that long. Doctors in India were the pioneers in anus replacement (must be all the spicy food), and then the Germans got into the game. Germany has had the benefit of coming in second and learning from India’s mistake. India had experimented with lesser metals – aluminum, copper, recycled Saturn automobiles – but the Germans came marching in like . . . Germans marching in with titanium. This metal has a high strength-to-weight ratio and a high resistance to corrosion in sea water, chlorine, and aqua regia (a yellow-orange fuming liquid, so named by alchemists because it can dissolve the noble metals gold and platinum.) Those are all great features, but my favorite is that titanium is bullet proof. And perhaps a little more vainly because it allows for easy aftermarket upgrades. How cool would painted-on flames be?
Titanium ani (or “anuses,” the internet is divided on which is correct) are a wonderful scientific advancement and a God-send for patients suffering from colorectal issues as the benefits of titanium abound. With this durable and light-weight metal, the risk of common anal ailments will be reduced to nil. Imagine how wonderful the world would be without anal fissures, anal fistulas, hemorrhoids, and cancers in this most embarrassing of regions. An added bonus, though not mentioned much in the medical literature, is a significant reduction in the difficulty of removing foreign objects, should you find yourself in that situation. A couple of squirts of WD-40 and everything slides right on out. Greased lightning, I tell ya!
Another great feature of titanium replacements is that they will be cancer-free. Had titanium replacements been around sooner, Farah Fawcett might still be with us today. In case you forgot, she died from anal cancer that had metastasized to her liver on the same day as Michael Jackson. Others, too, could have hung around much longer. A short list of other celebrities that have died from colorectal cancer include: Elizabeth Montgomery, Charles M. Schultz, Claude Debussy, and Sam Simon, co-creator of The Simpsons.
Yet another benefit would be much easier hygiene. No more awkward reaching and twisting. (Ouch!) Just a quick run through the sprinklers or a surreptitious dip in the neighbor’s hot tub would be all you need. And as the science progresses, detachable titanium ani could become a reality. Just pop that sucker into the dishwasher and boom! An hour and forty-three minutes later you have a sparkling clean bunghole. (Note to parents: If loading or unloading the dishwasher is one of your children’s chores, it is okay to give them a pass on this one.)
In addition to extending human life and easing the rigors of hygiene, artificial cornholes would aid in extending the life of our natural resources. No longer will we have to flush a precious resource down the toilet. No more toilet paper! No more European toilet paper!! No more Russian toilet paper!!! Unfortunately, the lobbyists for Big TP might try to derail future FDA approval. On the bright side, this would then become excellent fodder for late-night talk show monologues – figurative assholes fighting literal assholes!
For now Indian and German doctors are only willing to implant artificial ani for medical reasons. However, I can foresee a future in which anus replacements become elective and commonplace. Sure, this might be seen as appealing to human vanity, but the artificial ani have many more benefits than anal bleaching. (Yes, that is a thing.) Since titanium ani will be bulletproof, you can protect your home and family from armed intruders, if your state does not allow the sale of firearms. Also, if a mirror is not around you could use your shiny, reflective titanium anus to let a friend check her lipstick or check his teeth for a lodged piece of kale. A bleached anus can’t do that. I’m not sure a bleached anus can do anything other than look like a puckered Michael Jackson.
Looking further into the future, titanium ani will very likely come in handy when robots take over the world. I hear robots like a little backdoor action and like it rough. So if you don’t have a titanium anus before a passionate night with your robot lover of the future, you will need one afterward. It is best to be prepared and forego any awkward conversations.
And, undoubtedly one day organic, artisan assholes will become a thing. Perhaps there already are in your neighborhood. Here in Southern California they do already exist. They can usually be seen driving 3-Series BMWs with USC license plate holders and taking off needlessly fast when the light turns green.
As if the preceding 800+ words are not enough of a sign of my generosity and all around Nice Guy-ness, I have swallowed my embarrassment for the benefit of mankind. Soon you will be seeing my face and anus everywhere as part of a multi-media “Don’t Be Heinous to Your Anus” campaign of the American Society of Colon and Rectal Surgeons. (A list of rejected slogans can be found here.) I’m pretty sure folks will be able to discern face from anus. While both have receding hairlines, my face has more freckles.
Expect DVDs, advertisements on the side of buses, ribbons of some color (if we can find a color not already used by another group), and pop-up ads when you Google ailments of any part of the digestive tract below of the duodenum. Not be outdone Katy Couric and others that have televised their colonoscopies, all of my follow up exams will be posted on YouTube. Expect my anus to have its own Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter accounts. And definitely expect a Twitter war with Trump. It will be another case of a literal asshole fighting a figurative asshole.
For the print campaign I’ve been practicing winning smiles for both my face and anus in the mirror. Unfortunately, this put me in supremely awkward position when I forgot to lock the bathroom door and our housekeeper walked in. We had to get a new housekeeper after that. To forego a lawsuit with the old housekeeper, I had to pay her an undisclosed sum of money in the six figures, agree to pay for six months of therapy for her, and one year of therapy for me. Damn you, Harvey Weinstein! Everything is harassment now.
The work for the campaign is progressing quite nicely. Benedict Cumberbatch has agreed to narrate the DVD. Randy Newman has promised to do the soundtrack. (He owes me one. Don’t try to deny it, Randy!) The DVD will have a director’s cut (pun intended), bloopers, and HILARIOUS outtakes. (Never leave a sharpie and your butt cheeks together with immature orderlies.) I hope to have a 3-D IMAX version out for next summer. If all goes well, I even envision a Netflix series. Or perhaps a touring stage show. “Why in the world would you want that?” you ask. “Why not,” I say back to you. Vaginas got their monologues and the penis got its puppetry. It’s time for another body part to have its 15 minutes of fame.
What could I have done to preclude the need for the sphincterotomy? More roughage? Less barbecued ribs? Less curiosity? Being less lazy and getting up off my ass and doing something? I’m not really sure, but please don’t think me purposefully unkind to my anus. According to my doctor**, sometimes bad shit just happens. Literally.
*My pet name for Vicodin. I know personification of narcotics, prescribed or ill-gotten, is not a healthy sign, but we’ll save that for another time.
** My doctor’s first name is Sunny. After a few visits to his office and the operation, I now have to pick a new bodily orifice for when I tell someone to stick it where the sun doesn’t shine.