Publishing goes down the toilet

Everyone Poops. The Gas We Pass. Walter the Farting Dog. The Captain Underpants series. Children's publishing has gone the way of Eddie Murphy movies; no book these days seems to be complete without some kind of scatological content. Now we have Sir Fartsalot Hunts the Booger, and I am compelled to ask: can this book possibly have any literary value? Does this even qualify as a book, really? A tiny part of me wants to believe that the author has tried to craft a worthwhile story, but Sir Fartsalot's "buy one and get a free whoopee cushion" marketing campaign (I am not making this up) suggests that my original skepticism is warranted.