Animals Should Not Be Defecating In Public

Pictured: Harswil Manchester III, Esquire

Hello to the readers of my World Wide Webtronic column, one again. Forgive me if my speech that I am dictating to Jibsley is a bit out of sorts, but I witnessed to-day one of the most foulest, horrific things that I have seen in a long while. If I needed any more proof that the plight of the poor, whether due to their constant odious stench, their famous lack of intelligence, or their tendency to contract several kinds of terrible diseases whilst reproducing, is growing worse by the day -- or even by the minute! -- I received it to-day.

You see, I woke up from my five-hour mid-day revitalizing nap with an idea for an outing, which stemmed from a dream I was having. In it, I recalled the days of my father and I roaming around on the serengeti, blasting demon-like creatures with our powerful guns, and in doing so, prevailing over Nature in the long battle that we have long had with Her. I yearned for these days to return, but at the moment I am fearful of returning to my hunting days, as I believe the animals will recognize me, and smell that I am the one who has been authorizing the dumping of waste from various factories of mine into their homeland, and thus rip me to pieces!

"Jibsley!" I said. "Where can I find a place where I may view large and terrible beasts, but in a manner so that they may not harm me, or want to look at me in a mean fashion?"

Jibsley is not permitted to talk due to the fact that I am attempting to preserve the quality of my ear drums for as long as possible, but he wrote down an intriguing answer to my question: "the zoo." Apparently, these are places where those who are not able to go on safaris -- usually due to their offensive poverty -- can view animals safely, for a nominal fee. I decided to proceed to the "zoo", and after fetching my driving goggles and a bit of Coolant for the motor of my auto-carriage, we were off!

After negotiating with the zoo's manager the right to drive through the zoo, rather than walk (I fail to see how any normal human being could walk the great distances required to navigate through the zoo without having their feet swell up in a painful and unsightly manner), I was having quite the time, seeing various animals and shouting out their identities in delight. There was a fearsome Lion! A Tigress! And even a Rhino-saurus! I did not appreciate the Monkey House, which reminded me too much of low-income housing with a slightly better odor, and the Elephants and Giraffes insulted me by being taller than I am, but otherwise, it was quite a time.

All that changed, however, when I arrived at the Prarie Dog pen. I was tickled by their quick movements and comical poses, but my good-natured humor changed to pure, powerful terror when I witnessed an object emerge from one of the creature's anus, and then plop onto the ground with a terrific noise!

"A public defecation!" I screamed, certain that the left quadrant of my Vocal Mechanism was deteriorating! "I need a security officer to arrest this animal!"

But none came, and I was forced to slam my face into the window of my auto-carriage in order to break my own nose, so that I would be shielded from any possible incoming fatal odor from the excrement. My blood ran down the window, making it more difficult to see out of, which I considered an added bonus; but my view was not blocked completely, and I soon witnessed another travesty: another creature soon came along and sniffed the discharge that the previous animal had so carelessly placed on the ground!

I moved to impale my eyes out with my fingernails, so that I could no longer witness further devil-like happenings, but before I could, I felt a waste product emerge from my own bladder, and slightly dampen my under-pants like an animal! My fear was great, but my shame and terror were even greater!

"I am drowning in my own fetid waste!" I told Jibsley, who began to ineffectually twist various dials and knobs on the front console, to no avail. "I need you to purchase a vacuum and help me, for the Lord In Heaven's sake!"

There were no vacuums for sale at the zoo, however, so I had to remain in my disgusting, near-dead state for at least two additional minutes, as Jibsley drove around like a mad-man in an attempt to get back to my house quickly. During this time, I knew what it must feel like to be a corpse, or someone making less than $300,000 a year. For both these people are condemned to live in their filth, unable to grow clean as bacterium multiply on their bodies!

Aside from my ruptured nose, I do not seem to be suffering any ill effects from the trauma to-day. But I do have a new perspective on those people who visit zoos, and who are so poor that they must be in a constant state of self-urination and defecation: I hate them even more. Enjoy your Prarie Dog lives, you curs!

Harswil Manchester III is the oldest man on the planet, and is wealthier than everyone who ever lived combined and doubled. He refuses to acknowledge or admit to his own need to defecate.

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