For Me to Poop On!

WITHOUT ANY FURTHER EXPLANATION, let me just post this:



Yes, that's a ceramic figurine of president-elect Barack Obama squatting down for a poop. It's currently available in Barcelona, where, according to Yahoo, "statuettes of well-known people defecating are a strong Christmas tradition", at least in the Catalan culture.

The origins of the tradition, which has been going on since the 17th century, are somewhat cloudy, but the Caganer has been a regular fixture in the nativity scene -- yes, the nativity scene -- where he normally looks like this surprised little guy.

And kids try to find him hidden somewhere in the crèche. Whee! What fun! Look at that adorable little "pooper" (which is what caganer means in Catalan). His expression is the universal look of, "Whoops! You caught me pooping too close to the Christ Child!" I think that much is perfectly clear.

This is not a new thing. Archaeologists found an ancient "pooper" from the 17th century that depicted, "a holy Iberian warrior defecating on his falcata," which I'm sure is less painful than it sounds. And since the 1940s, celebrities, athletes, historical figures, politicians and Spanish royalty have been re-imagined as caganers. Thus, the Yes We Can pooper.

But it's not like the caganer is the only defecating character in the Catalan Christmas tradition. Oh no...not by a long shot.

Let me introduce you to the "poop log." I am NOT making this up!



Apparently, there's a Christmas tradition built around the Tió de Nadal (roughly "Christmas Log"). For the explanation, let me turn the mic over to Wikipedia,

Beginning with the Feast of the Immaculate Conception (December 8), one gives the tió a little bit to "eat" every night and usually covers him with a little blanket so that he will not be cold at night.

On Christmas day or, depending on the particular household, on Christmas Eve, one puts the tió partly into the fireplace and orders it to "poop". To make him "poop", one beats him with sticks, while singing various songs of Tió de Nadal.

The tió does not drop larger objects, as those are brought by the Three Wise Men [duh!]. It does leave candies, nuts and dried figs. When nothing is left to "poop", it drops a salt herring, a head of garlic, an onion or "urinates". What comes out of the tió is a communal rather than individual gift, shared by everyone present.

"Hey, kids! Who wants some candies, nuts or dried figs the log just pooped out? Make sure to share! It's Christmas! Now, let's sing the poop song!"

If you don't poop well, I'll hit you with a stick! Poop log!
Log of Christmas, don't poop herrings, which are much too salty!

I wish I could lay claim to those lyrics, but they are traditional.

Leave it to the Catalan people to fill Christmas with so much poop talk. After all, their folklore is filled with it. There is a popular Catalan phrase, said before eating:

menja bé, caga fort i no tinguis por a la mort!

It translates to: Eat well, poop strong, and don't be afraid of death!

Truly words to live by.

Hopefully, for the holidays, I'll have my brown "PoopStrong" wristbands available through this site! Stay tuned!

The Teapot Fight

MY WIFE AND I RECENTLY DID A SHOW, created by our good friend Kate Purdy, a stage show she called "Who's Crazy?" It was kinda sorta a game show, wherein two couples told their sides of an argument and the audience voted on who they thought was the crazy one in the fight. It actually was a pretty funny show, and (best of all!) nobody's feelings were hurt. Hooray! Hooray for turning domestic arguments into comedy!

The "argument" that my wife and I chose was more of a disagreement about the value of an object than an actual fight. It was about a gift I gave and what she thought that gift communicated versus what I thought that gift communicated. In the end, she was voted the crazy one (which she admitted at the top of her story) and the whole audience agreed that I chose my gift very poorly, very poorly indeed.

Here is my story, as it was performed in the show:

Before I say anything, I would like to put this whole incident into the following light: I am a dude who buys gifts for his lady. As a dude, it should be unsurprising to anyone—whether dudes or ladies themselves—that I, at some point in my life, gave a poorly chosen gift to my lady. It is no reflection on the lady. It is always and only a reflection on the dude. Giving poorly chosen gifts is dudes do occasionally. We can’t help it. We’re just dudes. We’re not bright.

Now, in my defense: I would like to say without bragging, that I am a pretty good gift giver. For the most part. Let’s call it 80%. 80% of the time, I give good presents. Thoughtful, entertaining, clever, personal. All the things you want a present to be. The other 20% of the time, I do poorly. Not a bad average. It’s a B. Room for improvement. But still, above average.

Which brings me to the Christmas Teapot—a gift I gave to my wife when we were first dating. A gift I gave to her for our first Christmas as a couple.

I would like to say that the Christmas Teapot was one of several Christmas gifts given that Christmas. It was not the main gift. It was just one of the gifts. I don’t recall what the other gifts were that Christmas. I am going to guess that there was probably a nice blouse or sweater also given. As well as jewelry of some sort. Books too—most likely. My wife loves to read. I don’t really know for sure. I wasn’t, at that point, journaling about my gift-giving. And my memory’s not as sharp as it could be. I blame the pounds and pounds of pot I smoked in my teenage years. And on into college. I easily smoked my weight in pot in my formative years. It HAD to have had some deleterious effect. But I digress.

The teapot.

The teapot is still in our cupboard, by the way. Still unopened. Still unused. Five years later.

It wasn’t a fancy teapot. Admittedly, it was a functional gift. Which, I now realize makes it a not-so-great gift, by default. You don’t want to give your future wife the equivalent of socks and underwear. Or, rather: you may WANT to give her those gifts, but she does NOT want to receive them. She wants (and she is right in wanting) thoughtful, pretty, girly, sexy, shiny, fun gifts.

A teapot is—I know—none of these things.

But my wife does love tea. And she was, at that time, drinking a LOT of tea. And the teapot was, as I mentioned, one of many gifts. But it was a gift. It was not a coded message. It was just a teapot. It was not my silent way of telling her: I think we should stop seeing each other, I think we should break up. The message behind the teapot was the same as the message behind all the other gifts I got her that year—and every year since.

Which being: I am very fond of you. Here is something I think you will enjoy. Please think of me while you enjoy/wear/look at/whatever this item.

As I said. The teapot is still there. Staring out at me from the back of the cupboard. Still unopened. Unused. Still communicating two different messages. To me it says: I am a gift that meant well, that has never been enjoyed. To my wife, I believe it still says: You have until morning to pack your things. It’s been fun.