Release Your Inner Self: Namaste

I am here to give accolades to the Yoga community for truly being non-judgmental and being a personified "safe space." A few weeks ago, as I found myself once again twisted into the beached dolphin pose, something of a yoga myth happened -- someone eeked out a high pitched tea-kettle fart. I suppose it makes sense. There's all that tightening and releasing and talk of letting it all go, so it was bound to happen during my yoga days. Lest you be confused, I was not the culprit though s/he could have easily gotten away with it as no one even flinched or fell out of their positions and it truly was, just an eek. You could have easily convinced yourself it was the radiator. Unfortunately, the story doesn't end there. Apparently, the limber flagellator (LF) mistook the non-reaction to the first offense as a free pass because twenty minutes later, she let out a massive honk -- and yet, once again, no reaction from anyone. AMAZING!! I'm almost suprised the instructor didn't go pat her on the back or charge us more for now being in a hot yoga class. But wait! As all good things come in threes, it doesn't even end there! As I was rocking in my happy baby pose, my disbelief/awe was dwindling and....there she blows! A good three second cheek-slapper as she was rockin' like a baby. Her best one yet. I suppose if you want to release it in public, a yoga class is a safe place to do it because they're all about the love. Smart, LF. Smart.

Who knew some people literally release their inner selves?

What have you done for me lately? Besides ruining things?

Though farts are technically not living beings, we tend to personify them in colloquial speech, as if to suggest that farts have a mind of their own. This personification of odors is best depicted in an episode of Seinfeld, when the odiferous valet leaves in Jerry's BMW a stench - so vile - so powerful - that Jerry's prized automobile was rendered completely undriveable - and unsaleable! Admittedly, B.O. (and I mean REALLY bad, like sweaty Southern Germans in summer with no deodorant - you know who you are!) is truly unpleasant. However, there are countless ways - many of them as simple as headin' over to your closest Duane Reade - to rectify, improve and/or address the problem....but farting? What is there other than Beano™ and maybe a handful of Tums®?

In short, farts are very complicated, and as such, their odor can possess a power that can cause the difference between life... and death (either through laughter or through suffocation ...and also spontaneous diarrhea (oops! a wet one!). Clearly, the issue at hand is not whether we can reduce the amount of farting (though, that could be interesting to address in a future post, perhaps with a help of a nutritionist or the great Susan Powter, but rather how we can raise awareness about encouraging New York City (and by proxy, the world), to choose appropriate venues for passing toxic wind. We'll be getting to these in some of the following posts, so stay tuned and eat some Mexican food!

I've heard countless conversations among people all around New York that apply this same personfication principle to farting.

"Ew, that fart came outta nowhere!"

"That fart could've oblierated a small country."

"Ew, dude, your fart almost made me puke!"

"He farted while we were under the sheets and it [the fart] made me wanna break up with him."

I invite you to ponder the power of the fart for a few moments....think about what an ill-placed one can potentially do, not only to yourself, but to the people around you (and said fart). I've heard stories of farts ruining relationships, initiating vomit-inducing responses from its surrounding victims, and causing some deaths (I'll work on getting some proof on this one, but I mean, come on! Surely someone out there died at the hands of a mighty fart. And by died, I mean died....of LAUGHING!!!

Excuse You

Is it just us, or are people especially gassy in 2009? The olfactory assault (emphasis on the ass) we are under cannot continue unchecked. It's time to take back our noses (and the night) and report these public pooters.

We've all been there -- In the line at Starbucks; from the movie theater row behind you, while you try to enjoy Gran Turino ("It's not pronounced 'HUH-mong,' Wally. It's 'hmong.'"); your mother-in-law at the Seder table; in your office building's elevator... the madness has to stop, and it probably wouldn't hurt to refrain from a hearty meal of beans before going to Barracuda, either.

Here's the solution: Got a camera on your phone? Well pull it out and don't be afraid to squeeze off a snap of the person you suspect hath dealt it just before you smelt it. Then send the pic to us [ iFartNY@gmail.com ] and we'll post it on this here blog as a public service. Sure, you're finna say that it's hard to put your, um, finger on the farter... but don't let that stop you. This is what wide angle lenses were made for. Let the masses decide who's guilty, and who walks away smelling like roses.

Everybody toots, but nobody should be able to get away with it in a shared space. Except Oprah, but that's a topic for another time. As is Gayle.

Who Farted? Oh....New York did. Maybe Jersey, too.

It's not your imagination, people. The city really does stink like a combination of holy hell and Splenda. Normally, I'd attribute said odor to the Ritz bar airing out after a long weekend, but based on the distribution patterns (see the article below), it seems as though this mysterious smell is more likely an act of bio-terrorism (from someone with a huge ass and a penchant for Taco Bell). Granted, the country has enough problems as is, but perhaps the new administration should consider the potentially disastrous (and terrorizing) effects of gassy foods on the well-being of the American populace.

Much like a real terrorist threat would dictate, I recently had to evacuate the F train thanks to someone's brilliant and thoughtful decision to pass wind in an overly-crowded car. Terrorism must be fought on all fronts - not just Osama bin Laden and Al-Qaeda, but also ass-terrorism. [Ed.: terrorassm?] This is serious stuff, you guys - it's not funny like abortions or the late stages of syphillis. Is there no one out there who is concerned with preserving our olfactory innocence?

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/01/06/nyregion/06sweet.html?partner=permalink&exprod=permalink

Also, that was my chair.

Something in the air

New York City is quite a place, and plenty of words have already been devoted to its unique feel, sights, sounds, and tastes.

But sometimes it stinks.

So hold your nose and enjoy this new one-stop source for all things farty and ferny.

Let 'er rip...