Weblog Sin Pies

By Charley Daniels

You have to admire the sacrifice and dedication of 45-year-old Gary Moody, who is willing to swim in shit just so he could get a glimpse of some ass. Moody, quite possibly the sickest man who ever lived, hid inside the business end of a women’s porta-potty so he could witness the relieving of bowels from up close. Dedication, I tell you.

The co-worker who directed me to this tidbit claims that Moody’s story is proof that there is no God. That’s if you needed more proof, I suppose, but maybe he’s right. It’s an interesting case for an “all of God’s creatures” type of assessment. “All of God’s creatures, even those who are so messed up and/or desperate to see some hoohaw that they are willing to literally be shit and pissed upon by multiple random people in an outhouse by the highway.”

That’s the Kancamagas Highway, in case you want to add the stop on your notorious places road trip. “Peed at the outhouse where Gary Moody had the craziest idea ever. Check.”

The article makes sure to let us know that the tank of the outhouse absolutely brimming with human waste. Right in the lede: it was “filled with human waste.”

The plot thickens in the follow-up story when Moody, asked for a good reason why he was inside a toilet, came up with a doozy:

In court documents, police reported that Moody insisted he was not doing anything wrong and had gone into the sewage tank to retrieve a wedding ring he had accidentally dropped while changing clothes.

Well, there goes his insanity plea. Or maybe he’s shoring up a case for an insanity plea. Tough to tell. In any case, what type of wedding ring is valuable enough to swim in shit? Of course, Moody may have made things worse for himself because of what resulted from his alibi:

Police said they examined the sewage and did not find a wedding ring.

“Needle in a haystack” has nothing on “wedding ring in an outhouse.”

By Charley Daniels

I have registered to play in the PokerStars World Blogger Championship of Online Poker! 

This Online Poker Tournament is a No Limit Texas Holdem event exclusive to Bloggers.

Registration code: 2222815

By Charley Daniels

Decades before analysts cited the blogosphere as the next big thing, Myrtle Shoupe was logging her own stream-of-consciousness column called the Hima News, named after the small Eastern Kentucky mining town where Myrtle lived. She wrote the column for 52 years, publishing such gems as this:

“We stop at the Long John Silver last night and bought a nice box of fish and chicken I always love fish they sure have got some good fish we talk to the manager of the Long John Silver her name was Birtha Hayes she was nice to talk to and she talk about have God help her and bought a set of my pillow slip I am selling for Christmas.”

I think Myrtle meant that Birtha — not God — bought a pillow slip. But the important thing to note here is that her columns ran without the pesky oversight of an editor, which is what made me think of the current atmosphere of prolific self-publishing. Instead of grammar and spelling revisions, editors opted to publish Myrtle’s writing with a simple disclaimer, “Printed as Written.” I’m not going to go so far as to say that Myrtle invented the idea of publishing less-than-stellar writing about her own life and experiences, or that she invented the idea of calling that type of writing “news.” But she had to be right up near the top of the list, and had the WWW been invented a half-century earlier, she almost certainly would have been the original blogger.

I mean, how many 90-year-olds have a homepage? Check out Myrtle Shoupe’s Web site for more good reading, including a classics page that, along with spilling the beans that someone realized the humor of Myrtle’s missives, also features more spectacular old-fashioned blogging:

“You men over around London, Ky. who are looking for a lovely wife come to Hima and pick you out one, there are just plenty of women here wanting a good husband.”

and:

“Miss L— W— is engaged to be married soon. Her wedding dress cost her $75.00. It sure must be a nice dress.”

and:

“Mr. Reid Gross and Robinson boys say they are going to Florida for a Vacation and it is nobodys business.”

Myrtle, at age 96, published her last column earlier this month. The Lexington Herald-Ledger wrote:

The headline on Myrtle Shoupe’s column in the Manchester Enterprise last week read, ‘Myrtle says this column could be her last.’

The community icon, who had one of the longest-running and quirkiest newspaper columns in the country, noted her declining health and thanked a long list of friends. She added: ‘… I will be 97 years old if I live to see my Birthday and everyone is welcome to my last birthday.’

Two days later, she died.

By Charley Daniels

Getting rusty around here, I know. Updates should be getting better, but I don’t promise.

In other news, visitors are still finding Weblog Sin Pies through some interesting search strings (not suitable for some readers):

>goddammit send illegals back 2006

This one is unfortunate. On the one hand, we’re attracting a whole segment of the populace that I never intended to attract, on the other hand, well, you get the idea.

>ass come pies

I’m struggling to find an interpretation for this that doesn’t trigger my gag reflex. So far I’ve been unsuccessful.

>alraddadi

I’m sure this means something in some language, but it’s more interesting to believe that someone’s cat walked across the keyboard.

>mentally retarded man shoots parents over inbreeding

It’s tough to put the word “inbreeding” into a search engine without getting some Sin Pies results. This is one of the better “inbreeding” search strings, however. Talk about provocative revenge killings. Was the searcher looking for a news story or an instruction manual?

>dinosaurs poo

Standard.