Poop is funny

There's something that every rider on RAGBRAI (and any other long bicycle journey) thinks of constantly. Aside from the obvious concerns regarding food and shelter, a cyclist will truly be pondering the next great poo. Where will it happen? Will it be a cornfield? a Kum & Go? an elderly woman's kindly offered upholstered-seat - Jesus-on-the wall - smelling-of-lilac WC? Or will it be a brimming Port-o-john roasting in the July sun.

You may think that talking about excreta and its attendant odors and visual images to be sophomoric or even downright nasty. But you'll understand someday.

Until then, revel as we speak of our bowel movements. Sometimes they're our friends, sometimes arch nemeses. Always, though, they are something not to be ashamed of, but to exalt and to spread (so to speak.)

I'm not sure who first labeled it "chort" but since that day, chort has been the glue that binds our team together. Won't you share your story? Won't you bond with us using your poop?

Submit your own chort report and we'll post it. Mail it to sov at evilcycling.com

Here's a sampling of the crew's chort reports:

JayPee 6/30/05: I consumed the hottest hot-wings I've ever experienced last night. My face was kinda numb.

Anyway, my chort this morning was horiffic. I could feel the slow, burning buildup deep within my GI tract as it slowly moved its way towards the exit of my fundament. A slowly moving freight train of churning, reeking horror. Feeling this, I roused myself from slumber and resignedly shuffled toward the toilet. Once there, I set to work, pushing and straining in order to get the inevitable misery over as quickly as possible. The first nugget or two, while accompanied with great pain and intestinal discomfort weren't that bad. Unfortunately, they were a bit soft, and rather unsatisfying to pass. Suddenly, I felt a great churning "reorganization" happening in my gut and braced myself for what I expected to be a sudden, violent evacuation of by bowels in the form of liquidy, burning shit-water. Unfortunately, what I experienced was a slow-moving, pasty, stinking juggernaut of burning, sticky napalm shit.

As this fæcal stream of white-hot barbed wire slowly exited from my arse to plop noisilly into the toilet, I found myself writhing in agony, actually attempting to fan some air towards my burning orifice with a Performance bike catalog that happened to be on top of the toilet. Again and again, I would feel a large buildup from within. Again and again, I was rewarded not with sudden, cathartic release, but with boiling peanut butter (crunchy) misery.

Eventually, the car-wreck like churning slowed, and I could feel that the attack was over. I gingerly prepared some toilet paper, and tenderly wiped my abused anus which unfortunately elicited more burning as there was some latent shit-palm gathered around my it. Wiping and wiping, what I experienced was like the stories I've heard of hot oil or napalm in that wiping it around only spreads the agony and damage. Finally after the 6th wipe, I felt clean enough to proceed to work.

Unfortuantely, my arse was burning so badly, I could NOT SIT DOWN ON MY BICYCLE.

Several miles, standing the whole way. I finally -had- to sit and ended up in a strange, side-saddle like position, allowing my legs some rest.

Arriving to work, I shuffled my way to the break room to get some coffee. Unfortunately, consuming this brought about round two. While not as lengthly as the first incident, the burning was even more intense and I found myself again, waving literature towards my ass in an attempt to cool it.

Horror.

The final score of this mind-fuck of a chort is as follows; (Each category has 10 possible points)

1. Buildup: Great churning, pressure and discomfort. 8 points. 2. Excretion: Fucking miserable. 0 points. 3. Consistency: Soft and formless at first, fucking nasty at the end.
0 points.
4. Odor: Quite impressive. Smelled like the actual wings I consumed
the night before. 8 points.
5. Cleanup: A fucking nightmare. 0 points.

Total: 16 out of a possible 50.

 

Randy: 12/23/04 "Good Chorts can be named like Chinese fireworks:  Coiling Serpent, Angry Dragon Tongue, Misshapen Sludge (oh wait, that's more like a Fu Manchu tune).  My fave is when the nose perks up that little extra bit whilst still seated.  It begins to smell like when you are forced to excrete outdoors - that crisp, pungent odor maybe three notches higher than the typical 'eau de poup.  This of course prompts a pre-wipe peek, for you know in your heart of hearts that you will be rewarded.  Sure enough, the nose knows.  Like a cautious turtle (Brown Eared Slider??), you see Mr. Chort poking his head up from the water surface.  Maybe a tentative peek, maybe a bold thrust - but that sucker is exposed to the air and emitting his stench.  Of course this experience is only exceeded by a full out-of-the-water-and-flopped-up-the-bowl lie.  Which is certainly an entirely different beast in its own right."

Corson:10/20/03 "No one style represented my chort at interbike this year. It varied from airy, watery, spray farts to total system shut down. Notable this year were the baby arm made of chocolate pudding, the beer can sized sinker that almost stuck in the drain hole, but then popped audibly when it passed through the portal, and the polite little brown aggregate shaped exactly like an egg wearing a fez. Not too much stench this year either. Must be the dry air. All in all, more satisfaction than not. Relief every morning, with no surprise gut cramps forcing a race for the commode at any time. Life is good."

Corson: 8/14/03 "My chort is a huddled mass, yearning to breathe free."

Cap'n Dave: 8/13/03 "My Chort has clenched fists and quakes with anger. I am lucky to rise, pull up my dungarees, and egress before retaliatory action is taken by said chort. Looks a bit like Arnold Schwarzenegger, if I were looking at Arnold Schwarzenegger while I was heavily dosed on acid."

Corson: 8/12/03 "Chort volume was slower today, with the 7 day yield wrapping up at 10 pounds, 2 ounces. Corn and bean skins rallied early, tapering off midweek. The big winner of the week came early with 2 days of large, well formed sliders, one with a DQ twist top, but later the chort became airy and unpredicable."

Carter: 8/01/03 "My first chort out today did not skimp on the pate. My last chort out today was like an after dinner mint - only waffer theen."

Sov: 7/4/03 "My chort celebrates the 4th with an earth shattering KABOOM. The part that really hurts is the shower of sparks that follows."

Carter: 6/17/03 "My chort is like Judge Schmail's golf shoes - stripped, creamed, and buffed with a fine shammy."

Sov: 6/16/03 "My chort quakes with anticipation for Ragbrai 2003."

Sov: 5/2/03 "My chort dangles and dances like Martha Graham on crack."

Carter: 4/30/03 "My chort is crying for the days of yore."

Number Sixx (from Christ on the Crapper)  4/18/03 "It was a dark and stormy night... I had taken a creative writing course. What light through yonder window breaks? Tis' the Chort and my butt is the sun... E'tu Chorte'? Alas poor Chort, I knew him well... Now is the winter of our discontent, made glorious summer by this son of Chort... The world is but a toilet, and all of we just chort inside it..." Guest submitted report

Adam: 3/14/03 "My chort runs upon tracks as though it's a train through the tubes of London.  With each turn it picks up passengers and gains weight, adding to the stress on it's badly worn asbestos breaks.  Jumbling back and forth with every bend it progresses like the hands of time.  It now sees the Paddington station at the end of a long straight away.  The gates are closed at the end of the tracks, but yet it continues!  "Mind the gap!" is sounding from the loudspeakers as it enters the station.  Passengers pressed against the walls, waiting, watching, quiet, yet disturbingly noisy!  The gates do not open.  The train slams to a halt.  A mass of wreckage is now crumpled in a compacted state of wheat germ and oatmeal hulls.  Then there comes a rumble from the tubes…  it's another train… and it's on the same tracks!" Guest submitted report

Number Sixx (from Christ on the Crapper) 3/06/03       DIANE: "This just in, we've got reports of what appears to be agigantic lump of Chort, attacking the city of Tokyo, Japan. We'regoing to go out to our On The Scene Reporter, The Great And MysteriousNumber Sixx, already in the field. Sixx, what do you have for us?"

Sov: 2/25/03 "The chort which has so recently ushered forth from my person has tripped seismometers in Dakar and caused the Nikkei average to drop 30 points."

Wanda: 2/25/03 "My chort is a road map of an evening's journey lost in an impenetrable whiskey fog. Greeted by the naked morning light as if being interrogated, my chort becomes evidence that only hindsight is 20/20 and that I ate corn somewhere between 7th Street Entry and home." Guest submitted report

Tony: 2/24/03 "My chort resembles the giant bratwurst I ate earlier. I'm left shivering with goosebumps as my intestines settle back into place." Guest submitted report 

Miles: 2/21/03 "My chort this weekend has an Irish flavour. The Iraqis have asked me not to tell Hans Blix about it." Guest submitted report 

Jim: 2/21/03 "My chort is like thunder, rolling through the valleys of summer and announcing the coming of the rains." Guest submitted report

Missy: 2/18/03 "I won the blue ribbon at the Minnesota State Fair every year for my strawberry chortcake recipe. It's best served chilled with a dash of determination and a generous pinch of TLC (THC is an acceptable substitute). Serves 8. Enjoy! Guest submitted report - Word to Missy!

Sov: 2/12/03 "My chort is weak."

Cap'n Dave: 2/9/03 "My chort is not interested in mere folly. It is studious and committed to its own self-destruction."

Cap'n Dave: 2/4/03 "My chort has been sentenced to death for its treason, and stands tied to the stake awaiting the lighting of the fire."

Number Sixx (from Christ on the Crapper) 1/22/03 "My chort is light and fluffy, almost creamy. As the last vestiges of it cling to my cheeks, it splashes down into Mr. Flushy as if fired from a high pressure mashed-potato cannon... and it is good. Lo, my nugget dispenser has done its work well." Guest submitted report

Dave: 1/21/03 "My Chort Sensai stands ready for action, prepared to display his strong kung fu on all who challenge it."

Bruce: 1/20/03 "My chort has pulled too many tubes and become lost in grains of dusty, pumiceous soil." Guest submitted report

Dave: 1/15/03 "My chort sits in the midday sun - cold, hardened, and resilient despite the change all around."

Miles: 1/15/03 "Today's chort knew just what to do, as if designed by the finest engineering minds. Yesterday's was designed by a committee and hung around fighting amongst itself." Guest submitted report

Hurl: 1/14/03 "My chort is leaky, like the hull of the Exxon Valdez."

Jane: 1/14/03 "Today my chort is like an angry fish, first of defiant mighty force, then imploring its slayer to have mercy, and finally surrendering hope, succumbing, lying limp."

Cheevil: 1/14/03 "My chortholio is like a triple latte, with whip cream and nutmeg."

Dave: 1/14/03 "My chort is displaying anti-American sentiment as of late."

Kevin: 1/8/03 "My chort looks like a bucket of extra crispy KFC chicken, smells like it too. Hmmmm.... finger lickin good. Guest submitted report

Miles: 12/27/02 "My chort is black and not quite solid. It was fun making it that black, though. Now I always have a place to put eight pints of Guiness. It sometimes smells of roses*"

*only if your spending on your daily chemical intake is greater than your salary  Guest submitted report -and a fucking Brit too!

Dave: 12/27/02 "My chort has the fat old bastard in the red suit by the throat and is eyeball to eyeball with him screaming, 'You fat fucking sack of shit! You're a LIE! A baldfaced LIE!!'"

Nathan: 12/25/02 "My chort tastes like grandma's tongue after her fifth bourbon and eggnog."  Guest submitted report

Rob: 12/23/02 "My chort resembles a burned sugar cookie in the shape of a lumpy snowman. Green and red sprinkles adorn its outer edges. Yule log, indeed."

Dave: 12/22/02 "My chort is packed in someone else's stocking, waiting for the right time to detonate."

Bear: 12/17/02 "My chort makes people light matches in honor of its strength and might."

Rob: 12/14/02 "Today my chort resembles a small family of leeches, huddled and stacked on one another for warmth."

Mojo: 12/12/02 "My chort flutters about on silken wings like some angelic fecal butterfly"  Guest submitted report

Sov: 12/09/02 "My chort is like great boulders thrown from Mount Olympus."

Dave: 12/06/02 "Today my chort stares at me with a quizzical look and says 'I don't understand Papa, I thought we were going fishing.'"

Sov: 12/04/02 "My chort is zesty and fresh. Quite invigorating after a night of murdering old ladies."

Rob: 12/04/02 "My chort is runny and rancid - quite predictable after a night on the receiving end of a strap-on buggery from the missus."

Dave: 12/03/02 "My chort is refined, like the finest cigars or the smoothest whisky."

Hartman: 11/29/02 "My chort stands tall with ample girth and a nice swollen bulbous head."

Dave: 11/26/02 "My chort resembles Mao Tse Tung and Winston Churchill mud wrestling, clad only in underwear."

Sov: 11/26/02 "Today my chort can't make a decision. Will it be asphalt or yogurt?"

Sov: 11/22/02 "My chort is like crushed glass shot through a paintball gun."

Dave: 11/22/02 "My chort is restless and stargazing. I am waylayed, and gushy."

Biddle: 11/18/02 "My chort looks like your face! Ha ha!"

Rob: 11/18/02 "My chort is red and slightly inflamed"

Hartman: 11/18/02 "I don't find it the least bit funny, but my chort is rancid."

Dave: 11/15/02 "My chort is mercurial, like rain drops on a duck's back.... yet mildly fiesty."

Jane: 11/02/02 "Like hummus. Pesto hummus with a touch of pureed eggplant and olives. Whipped to creamy perfection. Perfect for spreading. Mmmmmmmmm.... yes.

Beth: "My chort is like apple cinnamon oatmeal. Warm, gooey, and ever satisfying. A great way to start the day."

Bear: 7/1/02 "My chort makes cats follow."

Cheevil Kneevil: 3/14/02  "I haven't seen my chort for awhile over my bloated beer gut."

Capt Dave: 6/26/02  "My chort is a participant in a nice raisin chutney."

Bear: 3/14/02  "My chort is beautiful... like a Rorschach ink blot"

Sov: 3/12/02 "My chort is a quiescent ambrosia, truly fitting for the gods' banquet. Its bouquet is that of freshly baked brioche and its texture that of the finest mousse."

Capt Dave: 3/12/02  "My chort has grown feisty, and is hard to contain in public."

Capt Dave: 2/20/02  "My chort today is fluffy, and sweetly aromatic, like Bounce fabric softener." 

Sov : 2/20/02  "Light and airy with a piquant nose and a grassy finish. This is one you'll want to keep in the chort cellar for years to come."

Cheevil Kneevil: 2/13/02 "My chort is apple blossom sweet."

Capt Dave: 1/23/02  "My chort was too hot, Hartman's is too cold, but yours? Yours is just right."

Capt Dave: 1/22/02  "My chort is creamy."