jackassworld

We recently needed to come up with an idea for a short little promo shot for jackassworld to go with the release of the movie, 2.5. After Knoxville’s idea of running into the office with a sling shot and a pocket full of beebees and bottle rockets didn’t quite look all that spectacular on film (although it did hurt),

our next idea was to have a shot of a little baby sleeping in a crib and then shit on its face. We quickly realized, however, that there probably isn’t a mother in the world willing to let us defile her babe. So the next idea was to have a shot of Knoxville just sitting behind a desk with a computer and simply say, “Hi I’m Johnny Knoxville, and welcome to jackassworld.com-” but then suddenly my buttocks would come into the shot on the right side of the screen. Here’s the drawing I made of the scene:

Then off camera you’d hear, “CUT! Carnie your ass is in the shot again!” And the camera would quickly pan right and I’d be standing there with my pants around my ankles doing something ridiculous, like eating an ice cream cone or something, and I’d just be like, “What…?”

That of course turned into me standing in the corner pooping. And then somehow that turned into me pooping on a globe. Not sure how that evolution came about, but at the end of the day that’s what we decided.

“We’ll meet back at the office tomorrow morning and Carnie will poop on a globe and it will say ‘jackassworld.com.’”

Easier said than done. In hindsight we would have been smarter to have just made some fake poop and thrown it at the damn globe, but we’re not smart and we’ve never been known to take the easy way out. Plus that’s no fun. So that morning I walked over to Rite Aid and bought a couple enemas and a Coca Cola. I prefer Fleet brand enemas, incidentally. After you see what it did to me, you’ll surely agree that Fleet is the only company you need consider for all your enema needs.

A globe was suspended from the ceiling by a piece of string. Then we had to figure out how I was going to shit on it. (These kinds of logistical discussions are always very amusing.) Everyone seemed to think I should be standing above it, but given the wobbly coolers, rickety chairs and old wastebaskets they proffered, I said, Nuh-uh. So I kind of squatted over it and Rick lined my ass up in his camera while Jeff aimed my butthole. “Move forward a little bit…okay lower your ass a little more…” Once we got everything all set, it was time for the enema.

Enemas are fun and sticking things up your butt is cool. A jockstrap was provided to hide my junk (we all agreed that the black jockstrap was somehow creepier than a regular jockstrap) and I got down on the floor in front of my friends and prepared to stick the tip of the enema bottle in my anus. The box recommends two different approaches to this seemingly simple task. There’s the “doggy style” and the “side saddle.” I opted for the side saddle for its public modesty.

I was relieved to learn that it was actually kind of difficult to get the tip of the bottle up in there (I thought I was a lot looser back there), but I eventually forced it in and squirted the contents into my rectum. The sensation that follows can only be described as “queer.” The liquid travels uphill and courses into eddies and cavities you never knew existed. You are then supposed to remain on the floor with your butt in the air until you have “the urge to evacuate.” The urge to evacuate came pretty quick and what followed was pure chaos.

I jumped into position, grabbed hold of the chair and squatted over the globe. I released my clinched up butthole and immediately a poo-laden stream of liquid shot out of me like a bat out of hell. What followed the liquid was, actually, about the same size as a large bat. Or a seal. Which is kind of like a bat without wings that lives in the ocean. Derek thought it looked like a cock. A big cock. I thought it looked like a flying cow. At least that’s what it felt like. And it sailed right over the globe:

Hey diddle diddle,
The cat and the fiddle,
The cow jumped over the moon,
The little dog laughed to see such a sight,
And the dish ran away with the spoon.

Whatever you think it was, there was no mistaking what it really was: a big, wet fucking turd lying on our office floor.

In some ways I’m kind of glad I missed because that shit surely would have wiped out all life on earth. Just like the one that wiped out the dinosaurs. It was like a fuckin comet! VROOOM!

But I still had more shit in me. Another shot! Jeff was screaming at me to shoot lower, but I was in tears and I can’t hear anything when I’m crying. The stench was unbelievable. Everyone was stumbling over each other trying to get to the door. Hot poo juice was dribbling down my legs and turning cold. Rick was throwing up. Suddenly another great torrent of poo rumbled through the station and shot out of my anus. A direct hit! I nailed it! I had arrived.

In the end, however, it was not meant to be. Upon review, Jeff deemed my direct hit insufficient for our needs. And while everyone praised the comet I shot over the globe for its velocity and sheer girth, it simply missed the mark.

“That was the one,” everyone said.

I was heartbroken as I knelt on the floor scooping up my poop. It was even more disheartening having to wipe the shit off the globe so someone else could poop on it. That was supposed to be my globe and my moment. It was supposed to be my day.

This wasn’t the first time my pooping skills had been upstaged. Back in the Big Brother days, I conceived the Poocano. I thought it would look funny if we did a tight shot of an ass (the volcano) with nothing behind it but sky. And then the volcano “erupts.” So me, Pontius and Whitey (filmer) went down to the beach, filled ourselves with enemas and blew our asses apart. It was wildly successful. But when we edited it for the video, the shit that looked best was Pontius’. After the eruption, the camera pans to the left to reveal Chris giggling his ass off. And thus anyone who saw it would naturally assume it was Chris’ idea.

It’s cool, though. I’ve come to terms with it. I mean, I don’t poop for the fame or the money or anything, I just poop for the love of pooping. If someone happens to think my poop is rad, cool. But that’s just like icing on the cake. Because I’d be pooping even if I wasn’t getting paid for it.

After we decided my poop wasn’t going to work, the only person in the room who was willing to strap on a jockstrap and pinch one out was our resident shady, prop guy. (I can’t say the shady prop guy’s name because he doesn’t want his mom to be able to Google it and see him pooping on a globe. So let’s call him, Jamie.) It was agreed the enema was “a little too much,” so with the aid of only a Coke and a cigarette, Jamie squatted over the globe to make poo poo. After a good deal of pushing and straining, Jamie laid a respectable amount of dung on the top of the globe. I believe it landed on Canada and Germany. Apt targets. And mission accomplished.

[1] It should be noted that Rick was drafted to be the backup pooper because, we reasoned, a husky fellow such as Rick would surely produce an equally robust and husky turd. Rick, however, was not into that idea. He is into having his coffee at home and then pooping in his own toilet. Jeff instructed him to wait and have his coffee in the office and then poop on the globe. Rick eventually agreed to this plan, but we all suspected he was lying and in the end he was: he drank his coffee at home and pooped in his own toilet.

[2] Behind the scenes fact! These guys are all Hollywood and they know all kinds of special rules and things that normal people like you and I don’t even think of. For instance, the globe had to have any identifiable company logos covered up. So with a little piece of paper, some pens and a little glue, Jeff made a little country called “Tremainelandia” that covered the globe manufacturer’s logo in the North Atlantic Ocean. Tremainelandia would probably be an interesting place to visit if it wasn’t covered in shit.