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Warning: include(/home/fuddes/public_html/ramblings/ramblingsheader1.php) [function.include]: failed to open stream: No such file or directory in /home/fuddes/dailyramblings.com/ramblings/560.php on line 54 Warning: include() [function.include]: Failed opening '/home/fuddes/public_html/ramblings/ramblingsheader1.php' for inclusion (include_path='.:/usr/local/php5/lib/php:/usr/local/lib/php') in /home/fuddes/dailyramblings.com/ramblings/560.php on line 54 The art of fart etiquette![]() Paul Ryan I'm not much for Communism. I think Karl Marx kind of looks like Santa Claus, but that's where my love for Communism ends. Once my subconscious realizes Marx isn't going to bring me presents, I go back to loathing the man. However, last night while taking photos at a high school baseball game for The NewspaperTM - which employs me - something happened that made me wish I could force everyone to follow my rules. A fat guy I was standing next to at the game was eating cheese curds, and without any fair warning, he completely ripped ass. This was not a soft, sneaky bit of flatulence. This was a loud, rude thunderbolt of a fart, one that could be heard from far away. People actually looked over after the fart, and while I know everyone could easily tell it was the unkempt fat man who had broken wind and not me, that's not the point. The point is that this man farted, and felt no need to warn me ahead of time. Is it so hard to tap me on the shoulder and say, "Excuse me, but I think I'm going to blow ass. You might want to step away for a moment." I even would have accepted notification by way of that old "Here comes a fart" song. You know, the one that goes "Quiet please, everybody freeze, duh duh duh da duh duh", followed by a fart? It's childish, but as soon as he got done with saying "everybody freeze", I would have realized the danger. On an interesting side note, some people also add another line of "I feel the breeze between my knees" Is that a cultural thing? Perhaps a geographic difference in the song? Either way, the man should have warned me. Granted, it's not like he held me down and farted on me, but he was still rude. The least he could have done was clench himself and let out a squeaker. Didn't this man's mother raise him right? If I were to stand next to my mother and rip a nasty, she'd beat me to high hell. What makes this man think he can harass photographers with his ass, fogging up the lenses of our cameras and making our clothes smell like his butt? This man has a lot of nerve to not only release that buttocks beast onto me, but also to continue eating cheese curds afterwards, refueling his butt for another round. If this were a Communist country, and I were its leader, I would ban public farting. Much like smoking, I wouldn't care what people did in the comfort of their own home, just as long as their pooty poot fun time wasn't made public domain. I would also have a gigantic commie palace with monkey butlers as my servants, but that's a different story. In conclusion, I hope we can all learn a lesson from today's column. If you have to pass the gas, don't pass it to someone else. Pass it to yourself. If you don't want to pass it to yourself, call a friend and pass it to them by putting the phone next to your butt. Basically, share it with anyone you want, just as long as they don't happen to be standing next to me.
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