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It's A Gas

I can’t say that this is a new revelation because I’ve known it for most of my life, but I’ve only just now gotten around to sufficiently dissecting the subject in my own mind and to my own satisfaction to put it down as a matter of record. So here goes…


Actually, I LOVE farting. Even more than picking my nose. Picking one’s nose, except to a bold select few, is always a covert act. You see, I only pick when the blowing option has been exhausted. That being said, I always examine my harvest with a certain morbid fascination. I mean, the endless variety of sizes, hues and textures never fails to interest me for some reason. At times I’ve actually been so amazed that such things can emerge from my nose that I’ve had to fight the urge to share the wonder of it with my fellows. And of course there’s the inconvenient fact that nose-picking must be followed up by hand-washing. Maybe not immediatley but certainly before food handling or extracting food particles from your teeth. Then there’s the requiste tissue or some such. I never choose the pants option. Of course there are those who are perfectly comfortable with the act of popping a fresh-picked ginder right into their mouth. I am not one of those.

But I digress.

Farting requires no tools or supplemental aids and is just plain fun. Not to mention how good it feels. Sometimes when you’re all backed up with gas and you bark a good one, man, that feeling like you’re Underdog being packed away for next year’s Thanksgiving day parade is almost orgasmic. And I’ll bet we’ve all had an itchy anus in public (like maybe you showered too quick and left some soap residue there) and we are loathe to relieve it with the use of our unique God-given opposable thumb, being that we’re in public, mind you. Well, a properly rendered fart of just the right seismic timbre can sometimes take care of that.

Neither do I mind sharing (in proper company, of course) with my fellows. My kids can attest to the undeniable connection between forefinger and sphincter. Myriad freinds of mine have actually awarded me with applause and kudos at the manifestation of a particularly voluminous flatulence of laudable duration, to which I must confess a certain swelling of pride.

And tones…well, now that requires a dissertation all it’s own. Suffice it to say that I myself can claim tones of piccolo to French horn right on down to bassoon and sousaphone; a range that must span at least four octaves. But my favorite, for stealth and self-satisfaction alone is the all too infamous SBD. Yes, I’m proud to say that I’ve cut room clearing SBD’s that would have only been remedied by the patient ministrations of a toxic clean-up crew.

The dichotomous truth about farts that I find so fascinating is that everyone else’s stink while mine are just fine. In fact, my garlic fart is downright fragrant and my bazil fart is pleasantly herbal, my egg fart, not so much.

So there you have it. Life is filled with a noisy, noisome cacophany of gas expulsion that, according to Al Gore, is effecting the ecology sufficiently to warrant being taxed for it. If he reads this I’ll never come flush with the government.

When all is said and done, life’s a gas, isn’t it?


Wet farts just suck!

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  • becteri
    becteriabout 4 years ago

    lol Nice George

  • Thanx, Becky. But I think you may have read it when half finished. I posted just to save it as I had to leave that screen for a bit. It’s finished now.

    – George Yesthal

  • eveyu812
    eveyu812about 4 years ago

    You mean to say I’m NOT supposed to pick while prepping dinner! Humm!?… well… see you at the table.

  • I’m never eating your cooking again!!!

    – George Yesthal

  • Purplecactus
    Purplecactusabout 4 years ago

    Long live the trouser trumpet!

  • AMEN!!!

    – George Yesthal

  • becteri
    becteriabout 4 years ago

    Either way lol

  • Tim McDonald
    Tim McDonaldabout 4 years ago

    My faves are the perpetual walking fart and the morning after beer farts. And when someone else farts, you must ask them, “And your last name?”


    – George Yesthal

  • Rikki Woods
    Rikki Woodsabout 4 years ago

    OMG I am SO in love with you. LMFAO. This is awesome.

    Cracking up at extracting food particles from your teeth. because I have been working on a piece about flossing. I believe others should write about the pretty things or the emotional things. I write about the important things…farting, flossing, sticking mascara wands in the eyes, fake fingernails, bloating, hahaha.

    BTW-I read your profile. You clearly never visited the part of NJ where I live. It is Mother Nature at her finest. More cows than people too – which works well for me!

    Again, love this piece.

  • Actually, Rikki, I grew up in Sussex Co, and yes, it was a beautiful place to grow up and I still have a soft spot for it. When I was growing up there were still a bunch of hillbillies there too. Ya gotta love that. I was talking mainly about central Jersey. Soprano country. Sooo, a gal that loves fart humorl where were you when I was looking for a relationship? LOL
    Anyway, glad you enjoyed this.

    – George Yesthal

  • artwin1
    artwin1about 4 years ago

    I am laughing my ass off reading this,
    bathtub,pool and lake farts are the WORST EVER!!!!!!!
    if your interested there is actually a book called "THE HISTORY OF FARTS) its a great read
    Holland would love you,
    they’re doing experiments with cows in “experimental gas bubbles” that would create energy,
    aren’t our heads and minds full of hot air.

  • It’s too bad I can’t think of a way to make money on farts. Farts are a comodity in no short supply, Glad you liked it.

    – George Yesthal

  • funwrite
    funwriteabout 4 years ago

    It is too bad you can’t bottle them and sell them as natural gas… LOL!

  • Tempe
    Tempeabout 4 years ago

    seems you have the whole wood wind section under control.
    laffing oh lawdy…….. geo the master farter.

  • George Yesthal
    George Yesthalabout 4 years ago
    LOL. Woodwind and brASS.
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