The infomercial presents us with a typical scenario -- you're a girl in your 20s, about to have your fiance over for dinner, but just as company arrives, you realize your father just laid waste to an entire village of mud bunnies, and apparently that means your house needs to be put under quarantine. Surely your future husband will take one step into the house, smell the wickedness that is genetically linkable to you, and punch your mouth before leaving forever. Same old story.
But wait! Mom to the rescue! Turns out we have Poofume, so dad's asstronauts won't be an issue! The day is saved and romance can triumph over dad's Ganges trout. Then it goes on to sing the praises of this silly ass product before offering up an address and phone number from which you can shamefully order some, if your innards have been a constant source of despair for you lo these many years. And this is where I start asking questions.
Why Does This Exist?
I feel like a traveler abroad, lost in a land in which no one speaks my language and also sprays something in the toilet before they let loose with the colon chowder. I get that some people are probably less comfortable with their colorectal bouquet than I am. I understand on a basic, manly level that poop is going to stink. That's its job. It comes from butts. Maybe other people live in denial of this basic truth, I can't say for sure, but haven't we managed pretty well so far? Humanity, I mean? It's 2015. We have cars that can drive themselves. Is your poop stank such a handicap that it's slowing you down in life? Is it causing the wallpaper to peel? Did it stunt the growth of your children? I need answers.
What's Wrong With You?
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Why, Bessie, I do believe you make the most dee-licious pies in the pasture!