Friday, June 15, 2018

Reflections upon Canonical scatology

(Cue the Vivaldi, cats and kittens, we're about to get all fancy up in here.)

Ladies, gentlemen, and those who would prefer othermost designations. A noble speaker upon that platform we call "the Twitter," has, of late, discovered a particular Catalonian holiday custom, as all Sherlockians must eventually, the Sherlock Holmes Caganer. This, of course, has eventually led us back to the Canon of Holmes, as all things must, and a period of reflecting upon Sherlock Holmes and that matter commonly referred to as "the poo." (Excuse the common parlance, of course, we are striving for fanciness today.)

From the digestive system of the domestic goose to the manner in which South American nitrates are produced, avian scatalogy seems to be that sub-study of the field that comes to mind most when one first thinks of Canonical fecal matters. As is only proper, as the altitude of most bird-relating droppings has a distinctly cooties-lessening effect that the common ground-based excrement. (I apologize for that last word. Its tone lacks fanciness.)

I will long remember that final line from a pun-building story of Holmes and Watson, as once featured in the first newsletter to bear the name Plugs & Dottles (The Peoria one. Apologies, Nashvillians.) which ended with Holmes pronouncing:

"A bird on the Stand has worse doo on the butch."

But, I digress. In reflecting upon Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson and such conversation as "And where it it?" followed by "In the bath-room," it seemed like the best way to consider the whole situation would just be in song. So, sing along if you like, in your fanciest of voices:

John Watson had gone to the bath-room.
After Sherlock had finished his bit.
The doctor came out quite disgusted,
And in his hand was a big pile of  . . .

Sha-ving cream! God save the Queen!
Shave for Sherlock and you'll never be mean!

Black Peter he hung from that harpoon.
Some P.C. had stabbed him through the tit.
But if you looked close at the crime scene,
The captain's corpse had lost all of its . . .

Sha-ving cream! God save the Queen!
Shave for Sherlock and you'll never be mean!

Now, as you can see from the above example, the most appropriate and societal appropriate manner to study the scatalogical aspects of the Sherlockian Canon is by analyzing each and every story with a new verse of the old song "Shaving Cream." I think I have found my summer goal for this year, which might be a little easier than converting a full season or two of Gilligan's Island to Sherlockian purposes.

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