It has come to the attention of the Editorial Board that certain readers have been (or are about to become) offended by the scatological nature of some of the news items and articles which appear on this page.
Regarding the news we print, it should go without saying that we do not create the news, but merely report it—in as fair and balanced a manner as possible.
We are, after all, human beings.
In the words of H.L. Mencken, “Sh-- happens,” and when it does, Le Scat Noir is on the scene. And that is as it should be.
We are, after all, journalists.
It is fair to state that the literary texts we occasionally publish—as well as the photographs and illustrations which accompany them—are, by and large, of a wholesome nature and might easily appear in a magazine for Boy Scouts. On the other hand it is a well known fact that many artists possess neurotic and/or perverted psychologies and derive peculiar satisfaction from exploring scatological subject matter. Indeed, some psychologists argue that artists are by nature “sick” and should be confined to mental hospitals where they can “masturbate like monkeys” without posing a threat to the general public.
The Editorial Board is divided on this point.
Associate Editor Paul du Frond-Massage seemed confused by the notion. “I thought rabbits were the ones always masturbating…”
Derek Pell, the Editorial Director, believes we should avoid publishing scatological works because they are—quite literally—beneath us. “The stuff is asinine,” says Pell. “And it’s patently offensive to the vast majority of the American public. Art and literature preoccupied with excrement is not just sophomoric, but it undermines this publication’s credibility and purpose.”
Maurice P. Turdot II, Le Scat Noir’s patron saint and mascot, disagrees. “We should be guided by the words of the great Antonin Artaud: ‘All art is pig-sh--!’ Thus—like it or not—to publish art and literature is to be actively engaged in the distribution of excrement. Don’t misunderstand me, I’m not saying that publishing this ‘sh--’ is anything to be ashamed of. On the contrary... our mission is a noble one for, unlike The New York Times and our other competitors, we publish only the very best sh--.”
This journal’s Art Director, Alfred Bourdot, poses a rhetorical question. “Does anyone really give a sh--? Nobody reads anymore, so what difference does it make? Even if we were in the business of making waves, nothing we’ve published has produced the slightest ripple except, maybe, that piece on ‘toilet art’ which upset a few cowardly advertisers and the handful of unbalanced readers who bombard us with hate-mail…. Perhaps if we published details on how to make a portable nuclear device we’d cause a stir, but other than that, forget it. This entire column is utterly absurd!”
We will let M. Bourdot have the last word on the subject since we’ve exceeded our word-count and run out of sh--.
