Talking S***

I'm sick of this shit.

Anne and I went to a Dudley Riggs show a couple of weeks ago. I love sketch comedy. I admire improv artists. Every year I have at least one dream that I'm a cast member of Saturday Night Live... only to realize that I haven't actually been used in over a year. Call it Tim Meadows Syndrome.

But this night at the Brave New Workshop, when the troupe was doing its traditional Friday night improv after the main show, I noticed something. One of the improvisers dealt with every uncomfortable improv moment by making a shit joke. It's no wonder. He got laughs every time.

It made me realize that the entire evolution of comedy is really kind of a poovolution. I mean, I don't want to sound like a prude here. There's a lot of bathroom humor that I'm powerless to.

But just how long can shit be funny? Seriously, did you know that humans defecate? Really, they do. Isn't that hilarious? Babies do it. Teenagers to it. Adults do it. Hey, grandma does it.

Note: This rant does not target the SNL fauxmercial, "Oops, I Crapped My Pants!" which was hilarious.

Comedy scholars will say that all comedy is based on either tragedy or embarrassment. So I guess as long as bowel movements are embarrassing, we'll continue to get poo jokes. Because hey, that shit is funny.

But after we've covered everything there is to cover about sex, voiding, pinching loaves and masturbating... where do we go from there? I think it's a legitimate scatological, er, eschatological comedic question.