A final nod to history, and a look to the future: Let us not forget that the most worshiped and praised of all ancient sewers was Rome's Cloaca Maxima, whose spirit resided within the shrine of the goddess Cloacina, where warriors came to purge themselves after battle and young couples purified themselves before marriage. The lovely Cloacina was an emanation of Venus, and her statue overlooked the imperial city's sewer pipes as they transported 100,000 of ancient excrementum a day. Built in the sixth century B.C. by the two Tarquins, hailed as one of the three marvels of Rome, the Cloaca became one of the ancient city's great tourist traps. Agrippa rode a boat through it. Nero washed his hands in it. "Thus may the greatness of Rome be inferred," declared Cassiodorus. "What other city can compare with her in her heights, when her depths are so incomparable?"

Our back and forth over the last few days has been a refreshing antidote to the general repression of shit-related topics in the mainstream media. Despite our disagreements, at least we have discussed that which must not be discussed. Indeed, if we as a culture and a world do not pay our proper respects to Cloacina, we may find ourselves knee-deep in excrementum. Which spells the end of civilization as we know it faster than any other apocalypse I can think of . . .