revelations

As a followup to my last entry, I recieved a phone call in my office yesterday that may shed light on the conundrum. Here is what the electronic voice on the other end of the line told me:

Hello, How are you?
My name is Basil Jackson 3000, I am a robotic fish.
I've called to tell you that there really is pooping in heaven.
Life isn't always all flowers and sausages,
and this is why in heaven we keep our poops in little dinghies behind
the great ship

In the name of the parental poop, the sibling poop, and the holy poop,

Basil Jackson 3000