Sunday, September 16, 2007

On Farting

One of my favorite stories about farting goes back a couple years to when the Cubs traded pitcher Greg Maddux and closer Ryan Dempster had this to say on the subject:

''We've been sharing locker space for three years,'' he said. ''It's kind of weird not having him there to talk about golf or talk about pitching, farting on each other, whatever it is.''

The ritual of farting on a friend is a time honored tradition amongst men. It is a ritual that is passed down generation to generation, father to son, grandfather to grandson, crazy old uncle to nephew.

There’s really no way for a man to show another man that he truly cares for him than to fart on him.

I think about my own friends and how we may be sitting around when all of the sudden one of them not only rips one, but feels the need to fan it in my general direction, spreading the wealth, if you will. Is he trying to make my eyes water? Sure. Is he trying to make me gag? Of course. But the underlying message in that fart, the true purpose of it is to say, “hey…I love you man!”

There may be no more sacred ritual in the cult of the male than the fart. Even when you are farted upon, if it’s a really good one, no matter how disgusting it smells, you can’t help but respect the farter for his creation. And there is no greater sense of pride a man can take, than the feeling of knowing that he has crafted a truly magical fart that causes his friends to run and evacuate the area.

It is incumbent upon a man to be able to produce farts of such magnitude that his friends must put aside their bravado and run for fresh air, while the farter sits back and basks in the glory of his noxious fumes. Perhaps in the days of the caveman men proved dominance and that they belonged in the hunt, but the hunt is no longer a part of our world, so we shown our strength and power through the gas we expel in the presence of others.

Look no further for proof of this fact than the way a man loves to fart on his woman. Obviously, she does not respect him and will never give him a high five for a really great fart. She will run. She will tell him how immature he is and that he should grow up. But deep down, in a place she would rather not speak of and will certainly never admit to, I believe her heart swoons, she gets a little dizzy (although that could be caused by the fumes), her stomach is filled with butterflies and she thinks, “That’s my man! He has proven his manliness to me with this horrible eruption of sulfur-like gas and I love him now, more than ever!!!”

Or, of course, maybe not, but that’s my theory and I’m sticking to it. Yes, the fart is a truly amazing and inspiring thing. It is, perhaps, the ultimate form of male bonding, even greater than sports and scratching! They are often dismissed as disgusting and gross, but every man knows there is nothing more magical, that a truly heinous fart.

I remember feeling bad for Ryan Dempster, the author of the above quote. He will never again come back to the locker after a particularly rough game, when he gave up a game winning home run to some guy from the other team, the weight of a loss on his shoulders, frustration brimming inside him, only to be farted on by Greg Maddux making everything, somehow alright.

And so I say to you, enjoy your friend’s farts while you have them men. You never know when they’ll be taken away from you, or traded to the Dodgers.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

hahaha. I can't believe I read this- good luck with your encounters with male friends, may they not feed up on White Castle the night before -R