jackassworld

When someone first hears about the “Poo Cocktail,” a stunt where Johnny Knoxville enters a locked-and-loaded port-a-potty in anticipation of being inverted for a downtown brown shower, their face invariably warps with disgust and the first few flabbergasted words out of their mouth are, “Who’s fucked-up idea was that?” Well, rest assured, it wasn’t entirely Knoxville’s.

Although the origins of the “Poo Cocktail” are now shrouded in mystery and legend, I believe it was Jeff Tremaine who first had this proprietary vision, when jackass was still but a zygote conceived between he and Knoxville in the late ’90s. The mechanics behind the idea were simple enough: Knoxville walks into an abused port-a-potty and has it knocked over with him still inside…but that didn’t seem dramatic enough. Not even if it was done down the side of a hill, as someone soon suggested.

From there the concept rapidly evolved through several different fantasy scenarios-one involved a full-on crane to lift and suspend the port-a-potty upside-down-until it was finally decided to rig the port-a-potty with a supportive base, thus enabling an industrial-size garbage truck to securely raise it with its forklift, dump it upside-down, and return it to its natural upright state. Unfortunately, that was going to require a butt-load of cash and jackass was still many, many months away from even the semblance of a development deal.

Cut to March 2000: jackass is given the greenlight by MTV to create a pilot presentation. With a fistful of dollars in hand, Tremaine sets the production wheels in motion with the “Poo Cocktail” residing at the top of his wish list. To get from point A to point B, however, there were several critical holes to fill in between-one being the port-a-potty’s holding tank. For the most part everyone on the skeleton crew pitched in when duty called. Those who couldn’t produce on the job, such as myself, simply brought their family waste in from home via Ziplock bags. One crewmember even brought in a small garbage bag filled with nuggets from his pet pit bulls. Soon enough, the port-a-potty was brimming with shit of all shapes, sizes, and consistencies.

Four days in the baking sun later, the port-a-potty was transported on the back of a stake-bed truck several miles into the sweltering San Fernando Valley, where we had contracted the services of Waste Management to aid us in accomplishing the dirty deed. En route, the contents underwent a good solid pre-shake while traveling on the freeway, breaking down the assorted waste material into a big, brown liquefied bowl of chocolate sauce. A fitting hint of ceremony was provided by a parade of happily buzzing flies that escorted the port-a-potty onto the proving grounds like a tiny presidential motorcade.

But here’s where things almost got weird. Soon after I arrived on the “set,” our line producer, who for some odd reason thought he could confide in me, said our production was on the verge of being shut down until further notice. Apparently, MTV was less than enthused-well, freaked out, really-with a certain prank we’d pulled the day before involving a hardware store, a hacksaw, Knoxville in a convict suit, and four police cars with gun-toting officers (one of which got caught up in the excitement and forgot how to put their vehicle into park before exiting with weapon drawn). I, of course, turned right around and relayed this information to Knoxville and Tremaine, both of whom made damn sure we were allowed to follow through with the stunt of the day.

Now for all his seemingly depraved bravado, Johnny is actually quite the “microphobe,” fearing any strain of bacteria that may infiltrate his already impaired immune system. Consequently, onsite he made sure every readily penetrable orifice on the surface of his body was plugged or covered in an attempt to foil the microscopic herd of offal organisms he was about to go swimming with. Meanwhile, everyone else on the production situated themselves in strategic locations far from ground zero. There wasn’t a doubt in anyone’s mind that the first item on Knoxville’s agenda upon release from the port-a-potty was not going to involve disinfecting himself-he would surely first seek retribution for being put up to such a repugnant feat.

Now throughout the morning we had attempted to keep the actual contents of the port-a-potty on the down low from the Waste Management staff assisting us, but this proved somewhat difficult to do. Any nostrils that came within 20-feet of the damn thing were promptly smacked about by a ridiculously foul stench. In fact, it wasn’t until Knoxville was completely upside down in the port-a-potty and the malodorous epicenter blew out in diameter like an atomic bomb blast that the lady in charge turned to us in disbelief and exclaimed, “Is that real poo?!” No one was able to give a proper verbal confirmation though, because we were all doubled over with laughter at the waterfall of shit cascading down the truck’s windshield and the sound of Knoxville’s muffled whoops of disgust from within the port-a-potty.

But sure enough, the second he popped out of the pooper soaked in urine and shit and looking like a cut-rate Toxic Avenger, Knoxville made a beeline straight for Tremaine, who, unfortunately, had presupposed the likelihood of this outcome and was already beating a hasty retreat. This left only a few random cameramen to Johnny’s vengeful wiles, but he swiftly abandoned the chase in favor of the makeshift detox zone, where two production assistants were standing by with scissors in hand to cut loose his diarrhea-drenched clothing.

For the next hour, we all waited patiently as Johnny pranced around naked in Waste Management’s truck washing facility (a stunt all in itself), scrubbing any and all remnants of the stunt-real or imaginary-from his body. For some this scene was shocking, but in time full-frontal male nudity became the tedious norm, as everyone adapted to the life of working on a production that existed somewhere in the nebulous space between a real Hollywood operation and a run-and-gun porn house.