What’s up Your Butt

Public health advertisements which read “What’s up your butt?” and feature people with pained expressions on their faces, will not grace billboards in Benton and Franklin counties after all. It’s probably for the best: I know that the sight of someone grimacing because the doc is plumbing their back-passage doesn’t exactly inspire me to head down to the clinic to get my keester probed. Might as well have them biting down on a pencil.

Via the Bellingham, WA Herald

Health district pulls out of colon cancer campaign

KENNEWICK — The Benton Franklin Health District will not endorse a colon cancer billboard campaign after all.

Benton County Commissioner Jim Beaver, who is chairman the health district board, announced Thursday, “Benton County won’t be a supporter of that particular advertisement and that campaign.”

Plans were to bring the “What’s up your butt?” campaign from Yakima County to the Tri-Cities. It uses provocative language to encourage testing for colon cancer.

Read more: http://www.bellinghamherald.com/2011/04/22/1980473/benton-franklin-health-district.html#storylink=mirelated#ixzz1NWTDYpPJ

“Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout Would Not Take the Garbage Out”

My most recent post on Naples’ garbage conundrum called an old Shel Silverstein poem to mind. I didn’t have a copy on hand, but found it posted at lyricsplayground—

Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout
Would not take the garbage out!
She’d scour the pots and scrape the pans,
Candy the yams and spice the hams,
And though her daddy would scream and shout,
She simply would not take the garbage out.
And so it piled up to the ceilings:
Coffee grounds, potato peelings,
Brown bananas, rotten peas,
Chunks of sour cottage cheese.
It filled the can, it covered the floor,
It cracked the window and blocked the door
With bacon rinds and chicken bones,
Drippy ends of ice cream cones,
Prune pits, peach pits, orange peel,
Gloopy glumps of cold oatmeal,
Pizza crusts and withered greens,
Soggy beans and tangerines,
Crusts of black burned buttered toast,
Gristly bits of beefy roasts…
The garbage rolled on down the hall,
It raised the roof, it broke the wall…
Greasy napkins, cookie crumbs,
Globs of gooey bubble gum,
Cellophane from green baloney,
Rubbery blubbery macaroni,
Peanut butter, caked and dry,
Curdled milk and crusts of pie,
Moldy melons, dried-up mustard,
Eggshells mixed with lemon custard,
Cold French fries and rancid meat,
Yellow lumps of Cream of Wheat.
At last the garbage reached so high
That finally it touched the sky.
And all the neighbors moved away,
And none of her friends would come to play.
And finally Sarah Cynthia Stout said,
“OK, I’ll take the garbage out!”
But then, of course, it was too late…
The garbage reached across the state,
From New York to the Golden Gate.
And there, in the garbage she did hate,
Poor Sarah met an awful fate,
That I cannot right now relate
Because the hour is much too late.
But children, remember Sarah Stout
And always take the garbage out!