Every living creature has an anus: Ants, horses, eagles . . . And us. While most creatures’ anuses do their jobs with little fuss, not so with human beings. The design of our anus is Providence’s little joke to keep us humble.
Consider, for example, the horse. We live across from a horse breeding establishment so I’ve had ample opportunity to observe these estimable animals in action. While they shit copiously they never get any on their hair (when was the last time you saw a horse’s behind fouled by its own waste?). The reason for this lies in the design of the horse anus. It is an extensible device that, when a BM is about to pass, protrudes a few critical inches, allowing the manure to drop straight to the ground without mussing a single hair. To further forfend fouling, there is no hair in the immediate vicinity of the horse’s anus, nor on the extensible process itself. What a remarkable design.
Not so with us. Our small orifice is buried deep in a meaty cleft, the margins of which have to be spread to their limit if there is to be any chance the thicket of long, nasty hair in the cleft will not be fouled by the passing of stool — a vain exercise in 99 cases out of 100. Moreover, while the horse can defaecate while standing, just let a human being try that! No we must squat. But not only squat, we must go through all sorts of contortions to minimize the amount of feces that will cling to the surrounding parts — which, as we all know, is another futile exercise.
To accommodate our flawed design, we are taught from birth to use wades of paper, magazine pages, dried corncobs and even stones, to wipe our filthy behinds. And this we must do! If we did not wipe, we would reek of dung from the cake of dingleberries between our cheeks and our pants, skirts, caftans and burkas, would be fouled with nicotine stains and clouds of flies would follow us down the street like goslings.
We are the most wretched of creatures.