Occasionally we will get probing questions from our readers for the staff to answer.
Occasionally we don’t.
This could or could not be one of those occasions. You decide which.
Ervin Sholpnick of Hot Lard would like to know:
If you had 5 minutes to talk to a Dung Beetle, what would you say?
Justin -Hey, Dung Beetle, wipe that shit-eating grin off your face; I need your opinion on if a doody-based diet is right for me too.
So a lot of people over the years have advised me to look into your habits. Generally it would be an off-hand remark like, “Eat shit and die, Justin,” and, granted, I usually viewed it more of a threat than diet advice. I mean, the speaker always had some malice in his or her delivery, like how someone might say, “Sit on a tack, ass hat,” “Suck my weiner,” or, “I hope your only choice for an in-flight movie is John Carter.”
Anyways, enough shit talk, I know you don’t care about what I eat, but how pumped are you for the last episodes of Breaking Bad?
So you basically collect shit, roll it into a ball and make it all pretty, and then push it around for some obscure purpose… ‘sup, Bro! Never knew you were in the Army too! *buys dung beetle a beer*
Five minutes?? I’ll only need five seconds to win over that dung beetle with my wit, charm, and superb hygeine. Dung beetles have a yuck-o life. They don’t wanna talk about their day. They don’t want to chit-chat. They want to take their mind off all that! They want to laugh, love, LIVE!
So, I would simple tell him a joke. Then we will laugh and laugh and be immediate BFFs – “Monkey and Me” by Dung Beetle will be a bestseller!
Q: What’s brown and sounds like a bell?
First of all, we would have to have a talk about life choices. I mean, come on! Of all the things in the world you could roll you would choose shit?! (Stoners are laughing so hard they are snorting up Cheetos right now.) You could roll grass, (again, stoners losing it…I’m very popular with stoners…and drunks…and baristas) mud, pretzels, mutual funds…the possibilities are endless. Then I would quote my Uncle Harold’s favorite saying, “It’s like snorting cocaine off an elephant’s belly, seems like a good thing at the time, but at some point, you will get trampled.” I don’t know what that means either, or how you would even be able to do such a thing…but Uncle Harold kind of reminds me of the dung beetle…full of shit. Make good life choices little beetle.
As a Dung Beetle, do you feel you’ve been overshadowed by the more mainstream ones like John, Paul, George and Ringo?
I’d probably get caught up in a lecture, per usual: “Hey, shithead, be a champ and roll that poo ball out of my living room before I turn you into one of those ink blot tests. Good god, have some decency. How would you like it if I came waltzing into your wig wam and pulled my bare butt across your white Berber carpeting? That’s what I thought! Now brush your teeth!
“Look here, beetle, here’s what you’ve got to do. Hide your dung. Create a sort of dung repository. Then go out and get manageable loads of the stuff and bring it back to your place. Your dung’s purity will be higher; you won’t be getting stuff stuck to it. I’m sure you’ll see a difference in freshness as well. I mean, what you’re doing now works, but all that exposure isn’t good for the product. That shit goes bad in the hot sun.”
“Trust me: Small batches. Efficient transport. Purity. Limit your light exposure. Keep the stuff cool.”
Um, Once upon a time I did actually have a conversation with a dung beetle. I can’t recall his name, and I may or may not have been drunk…but I was in South africa. Here, I have proof.
Yep, Totally had to be drunk, that thing was huge, and scary, and now that I think about the fact that it had been previously rolling a huge ball of poo around…now I’m grossed out, Why was I holding that? I don’t even know. I think I asked him where the hell he was going with that giant poo ball, and I think I told him he shouldn’t work so hard and that Life is shitty enough without having to rush around collecting shit into a ball that Is larger than you are, Or something to that effect. Like I said, I was drunk. Why else would I pick up a feces collecting nightmare monster and have a conversation with it?