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BS: Fart Fart Fart
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Subject: Fart Fart Fart From: GUEST,Poet For The Masses Date: 20 Feb 02 - 10:57 PM Here I am at Mudcat I made it in at last But now that I'm sitting I have to pass some gas I need to lift my bum cheek Maybe they'll get the message So goodbye you cookieless flamers FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTT! |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: Liz the Squeak Date: 21 Feb 02 - 03:57 AM You been talking to my cat?? Everytime he jump up on the keyboard table he lets rip..... I'm deeply suspicious now.... LTS |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: GUEST,down with the trolls Date: 21 Feb 02 - 07:13 AM LOL That's great man. I heartily join you in a good fart! |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: InOBU Date: 21 Feb 02 - 09:12 AM When I saw this thread, I was reminded of a toy we had collectively in kinderguarten. Being the 50's it was that thick heavy rubber, a firetruck driven by a pig. (Jeeze, I hope there isn't a single serviving copy of that toy!) Well, we used to call it fart fart, and all the kids used to push it back and forth going fart fart fart... . Is this thread creep? Well, I don't know... just a thought. Cheersmdears, Larry |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: Joe_F Date: 21 Feb 02 - 10:58 AM Piss and fart, Sound at heart. -- _1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue_, s.v. Fart |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: Bill D Date: 21 Feb 02 - 10:58 AM No matter what your cause, club, church or other social group, there is always someone so clueless and embarassing on YOUR side that you wish they were on the other side. |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: Fortunato Date: 21 Feb 02 - 11:17 AM Bill, go sit in the corner by the window. |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: GUEST Date: 21 Feb 02 - 11:35 AM Is this really necessary? |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: Dave Bryant Date: 21 Feb 02 - 11:37 AM Careful, if someone lights you up, you'll be accused of FLAMING ! |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: GUEST,JohnB Date: 21 Feb 02 - 12:05 PM "I likes Peas, cos Peas makes yer Fart. And when yer Fart yus knows yus Ealthy" JohnB (aka Blaster Burton) |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: InOBU Date: 21 Feb 02 - 12:37 PM All this talk about flatulance and not a single comment on my concert with 6milecross post, go eat beans, guys, Cheers Larry |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: Dead Horse Date: 21 Feb 02 - 12:50 PM George, don't do that. (Joyce Grenfell) |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: The Walrus at work Date: 21 Feb 02 - 01:47 PM I must admit, I'm surprised no one has mentioned Ivor Biggun ("Doc" Cox) and "I've Parted (misprint)", so:
"I've farted, I've farted, I've made a trouser cough, Walrus |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: catspaw49 Date: 21 Feb 02 - 02:35 PM A couple of winner(?) fart threads from the past: Cat Farts Flammable Flatulence/Phartin' Phenomena And a tale of a religious farting experience: The reunion of Cletus and Paw with Buford led to a joyous evening of the three of them and the Reg boys getting drunk on "Iron City" and 'Shine and roasting a hog out in my backyard alongside the garage. Of course, after a while, Paw started lighting up farts as is his wont, and that's what I now have come to believe is one of those things best left unexplained. The neighbors began to complain about 11 o'clock or so after one of Paw's flamers had ignited the hedge on his property. That would have passed as the boys got it put out pretty quick, being full of Iron City and all, but when a major rip set fire to his wife's bird feeder....well, that was it. I tried to calm the guy down and assured him nothing like that would happen again. He went back into his house dragging the charred remains of the feeder and a roasted squirrel that had been looting it when Paw let fly with that fiery thundersprecht. Anyway, I got them situated again and since my house has aluminum siding, my only request was that they point Paw towards the wall. I figured a good hosing would clean off the worst of it in the morning. I went inside and the revelry continued at a somewhat decreased decibel level with only the occasional flash lighting the window of my den. Around 2 AM the boys came in for a final pee call and of course they couldn't just go. I heard either Reg or Reg in my pantry and before I could get up there, the whole crew was playing sink the Cheerios in my downstairs bathroom. Karen came downstairs at this point and threw a fit since our kids watch everything the boys do and we were spending a fortune in Cheerios. After a severe ass-reaming from Karen, I herded them back outside and suggested they get some sleep around the smouldering pig carcass. I went back in and after cleaning and disinfecting the bathroom and taking a shower, I again settled down in front of the TV to watch a half-hour Infomercial on how I could make thousands a week by selling quinnine pills through Direct Mail Order and running tiny little ads. They were just getting to the good part with the testimonials and all when there was this giant blast from the backyard and the night sky lit up like a Buddhist monk. There was a moment of silence and then I heard Cletus yell, "HOLY SHEET!!!" Well, there wasn't anyway I could avoid it, so I went out through the garage into the backyard and there they stood, the whole damn bunch of them, except for Buford who was throwing up Iron City and pork fat down his bib overalls over by the smoking hedge. They were staring at an image that Paw's last fart had scorched onto the siding with their mouths hanging open. I stepped back and looked and my first thought was, "Well this ain't gonna' clean off too good and Karen will be really pissed." But when I started to say something Cletus stopped me and I noticed that the look on all of their faces was almost reverent. Paw was standing with his mouth agape and the others seemed awestruck as well, so I looked again. Cletus turned to me and said, "Doncha seez it Catspaw? Its rite thar!!! Paw done farted Jerry Falwell out his ass!!!" Well, I kinda' had to admit, it DID resemble him in the flickering light of the burning porker on the spit, but I was too much in fear of what the morning would bring from Karen to say anymore than tell them to get some sleep. Problem was, they didn't. I went back inside, the group outside quieted down, and I nodded off before I could get the 800 number for the "501 All-Time Polka Greats" by Myron Kopetz and the Nose Flute Kings. What I didn't know was that the group had gone off and gotten Pastor Sharphorn, his wife, the Ladies Auxillary, and the Deacons, from the "Church of Evangelical Brethren and Tongue Talking Mohunkers" and they arrived for a look-see about sun-up. When I woke up to the commotion outside it was about 6 AM I guess. The sight that confronted me was reasonably bizarre. At least 150 people were assembled in the backyard and I could see more coming down the alley. A small altar had been erected out of the remains of my stockade fence which was now on the ground, the crowd overflowing into my neighbor's backyard and trampling his stupid-ass garden gnomes into powder....it was the only high spot of the day. Those kneeling at the altar would place small plastic Madonnas and Jesus statuary at the foot of the garage wall and say a little prayer and move on to the donation box that Cletus was guarding. It was then that I noticed that everyone donating more than $25.00 was getting a "Holy Relic" to commemorate their visit to this newest religious icon which had previously only sheltered my vehicles and assorted cans of dried out wax and rubbing compound. There, perched upon a throne-like affair that I noticed had been assembled from our porch furniture, was Paw. As each person gave his donation, Buford would cut a small piece from Paw's overalls and hand it to them. For $50. they got a piece from the seat, and for $500. a snippet from the flap of his longjohns. It was a kind of poor man's "Shroud of Turin" I guess. Business must have been good since Paw was missing one entire leg of his bibs and he was about bareassed already. I was dumbfounded and I was just considering how to set this up as an infomercial and start booking tours when the County Sheriff showed up and ran everybody off. Then he proceeded to fine me for 19 different offenses and gave me a summons to appear in court for destruction of my neighbors property. I was able to head off Cletus and the money, which covered almost all of the fines and my neighbor's friggin' gnomes, but it cost another 50 bucks to get rid of the Falwell image. Now if I could just get shed of the real one for the same price.......................Anyway, I have never been able to figure out how that happened and I suppose it is one of those things best left unexplained. I've always thought that Falwell was talking out his ass, but I never figured you could blow him out your ass as well, but Paw's a really religious ol' coot so I guess you just never know. Really, I think Cletus had it right with his first two words, "Holy Shit!!" Spaw |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: Rustic Rebel Date: 21 Feb 02 - 02:57 PM No-one said you weren't a little weird Spaw! So this salesman goes up to the farmers house, says his car broke down and asks if he can spend the night. Farmer say he can but he only has one bed and they will have to share. So the farmer makes a big dinner of roast chicken, peas and beans, cornbread, mustard greens, just a huge spread. Well they go to bed for the night and the farmer says, "let's play a little game, it's called farting football and every fart is a touchdown". So the farmer starts with a little squeaky one, then the salesman returns with one, they go back and forth with the farts getting bigger and juicier. Then it was the farmers turn again and he let out a big juicy fart and shits the bed! The salesman says, "well what do we do now?" And the farmer replys, "It's half-time,we switch sides!" Rustic |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: Lonesome EJ Date: 21 Feb 02 - 03:29 PM Catspaw, ask Paw if he thinks he could muster Jim and Tammy Fay genuflecting before Fulton J Sheen. There's a commission in it for you. |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: vectis Date: 21 Feb 02 - 07:55 PM Beans. Beans. Good for the heart. The more you eat the more you fart. The more you fart the better you feel. So eat beans at every meal!!!!!! I know....... Old but gold. |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: artbrooks Date: 21 Feb 02 - 08:23 PM As I heard it: Beans, beans, tne musical fruit The more you eat, the more you toot. Beans, beans, they're good for your heart, The more you eat, the more you fart. All part of the folk process, I guess...but NOTHING beats Cletus! |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: CarolC Date: 21 Feb 02 - 09:07 PM Beans, beans, the methane legume The more you eat, the more you fume The fuel source of the future's here So let's have beans and lots of beer! |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: technission Date: 21 Feb 02 - 09:35 PM I was thinking of trying some homebrewing,as some of my friends have produced some very nice brews. Maybe I will experiment with BEANS as the initial source material?! Wait-I'm getting a holy vision-Pinto Pilsner, Baby Lima Lager, 15-bean Malt Liquor! Drafted Navy Bean. Garbonzo Brew, serve it with hummus, yeee-hawww Blazing Saddles here we come. I guess I was truly inspired by Spaw's amazing tales. "I don't care if it rains or freezes, As long as I got my plastic Jesus, Standin' on the dashboard of my car..." I know there's more to that and it was sung by an Austin band in the seventies, but I'm not sure it's worthy of a lyrics request. Keep the faith, brethren and cistern - methane power to the people. -michael, upwind of it all |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: GUEST,johnnythebone Date: 21 Feb 02 - 09:44 PM Boy, this thread really STINKS! |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: The Walrus at work Date: 22 Feb 02 - 08:43 AM Should someone dedicate this thread to the memory of the great Joseph Pujol aka "Le Petomaine" ? Who else could make an entire career out of farting on stage? Walrus |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: catspaw49 Date: 22 Feb 02 - 09:44 AM technission---Thanks for not starting a thread as we have numerous previous musing around here on Plastic Jesus! You can find one HERE and another one HERE. The lyrics are also in the DT under Plastic Jesus. And of course if you need the tune, you can go to here....some fine dancin' too. Now if you want to know how a really good fart can inspire both pathos and friendship, then read on: Every year as Christmas approaches I can't help but remember the first time I met Cletus, Paw, and Buford...... I had noticed an area on Rt. 664 just outside of our little village being carefully prepared and roped off as I drove by and every now and then there were these three guys working there, building a little shed and driving stakes into the ground about 6 feet apart. It finally dawned on me that they were getting ready to sell Christmas trees. Now I have always gotten ours from the same place for years, but the prices were getting pretty steep so I kept an eye out for new sources. The day they put up the lights, I stopped to see when they'd be bringing the trees in. As I got out of the van I couldn't help but notice that these three, from all appearances, were a bit "down on their luck" and it made me want to help them out a bit. Cletus came up to me and introduced himself and I asked about the trees. He was glad to tell me all about them in that way which I've since learned to interpret. At that time however all I could seem to understand was that they were "working on them." These many years later, that kind of phrase would set off alarms, but I didn't know Cletus then so I thought it was just an odd hilljack way of phrasing things. Paw came over and I liked the old guy a lot right away. He said he'd seen me before and I remembered something about the sewage plant and the day it exploded. I couldn't place what it was that this guy had to do with it but the correlation seemed quite vivid. I shook his hand and he farted in return. I had never met anyone who was quite so casual with flatulence. Paw used it almost as punctuation......."How ya' doin'?" (rriippp) "Purty day ain't she?" (bbraawwmmpp)..........Let's say it took some getting used to and made it easy to understand why this old coot could probably not find gainful employment. But for all that, he was a friendly cuss who told me they called him Paw because he was from Paw-Paw, West Virginia. He pointed out the other fellow named Buford who was involved in extricating himself from a string of Christmas lights that seemed to have attacked him. Even from a distance, the unmistakable smell of Iron City brew was pretty strong. I figured he spilled about the same amount on himself as he drank and I later found this to be not only true, but the amounts involved were prodigious. All in all, I couldn't help but like them even if they were, well, let's just call them odd and drop it right there. They told me the trees would be in and they'd be open for business on Friday at 6 PM. I left shaking my head at the idea of bringing Karen and the kids to "pick out the tree" as was so traditional with our family. What the hell? We could at least check them out. On Friday afternoon Karen and I were going into Lancaster and as we passed by I pointed out the place, not that it was really necessary to point. I'd never seen anything quite so garish in my life but it was one of those gray Ohio days, very cold and occasionally spitting snow so perhaps it was the contrast......perhaps not. Karen was making comments about the place, but as we drove past we could both see the trees that were now in place quite well. Surprisingly enough, they looked magnificent! All were very full and perfectly shaped and a greener bunch of Christmas trees I'd never seen. Even at 65 mph, Karen saw one on the far end of the first row that she said was absolutely "the one!" Since she and our kids were going to spend the night with Connie and go shopping on Saturday, I promised her I'd stop back and get the tree and forget the tradition for one year. So on my return trip I looked at my watch and saw that I'd arrive about the time Cletus told me they would open and sure enough, I was the first one there. Cletus, Paw, and Buford, greeted me as a long lost friend. They were really in the Christmas Spirit and offered me some of their "spirits." Friends, there is 'Shine and then there is 'Shine and whatever it was they had in the Mason jars was not. I found out later that this was a homebrew of their own and made not from corn, but soybeans instead, and distilled through an old radiator off a Mack. Luckily I only tasted it, but that single gulp went down like a 4-stage rocket, taking my breath away, and immediately starting to bore a hole in my stomach. After the coughing subsided I gave them the common courtesy line you use upon tasting any 'Shine..........."Smooth!" They were all adorned themselves with some of the seediest Santa hats I had ever seen and were ready for business. They said I was the first customer and I nodded appreciatively while glancing about at the trees. Even up at a closer viewing they seemed almost perfectly formed and beautifully green and I thought the light snow must be the reason they glistened so under the glaring bulbs. It was dark now and the temperature had dropped to about 25 with a nasty northwesterly blowing in a chill from Alberta. My eyes were no longer crossed from the 'Shine and I slowly became aware that something was odd about the trees. They weren't moving at all. Not a branch, not a needle, absolutely nothing was moving although the breeze was pretty stiff. Paw commented on the weather and let fly an air biscuit as I walked over to the tree Karen had seen earlier. I reached out to touch it and it was positively stiff! I felt several branches and the whole thing down to the smallest needle was like glass. I put a little extra pressure on a needle and it shattered in my gloved hand. What the hell was this anyway? Cletus came up and asked how I liked them as Paw and Buford tossed wood in a barrel to start a warming fire. I said I thought these were real trees, but they seemed to be artificial. Cletus protested they were real.......and recycled. Once in awhile you hear sommething that is so completely ridiculous that it takes some time before you can absorb the fact that the speaker is completely serious. Recycled Christmas trees. My mind was slowly opening to the sound of Cletus' voice proudly telling the tale of how they collected them last year and then formed them up, glued in branches with rubber cement, gave them several coats of shellac, painted them with spray cans of "Yew Be Green" epoxy, and topped the job off with several coats of lacquer. I stared at the tree. I stared at Cletus. I stared at the tree. I stared at Cletus. I stared at the tree. I stared at Cletus. Cletus noticed I was a bit pale and pulled me by the arm over to the shed where Paw and Buford had finished filling the barrel and were dumping gasoline onto the contents. Cletus said that I should have another drink and then Paw asked if I was cold. I nodded vacantly, my mind still unable to absorb the insanity which surrounded me. Then I heard Cletus say, "Hey Paw, show him how we light a fire." With that, Paw bent over pointing his butt at the barrel, Buford held a Zippo to his ass, and Paw ripped a monster of a fart, something akin to a Cherry Bomb in it's magnitude. An enormous flame shot out of his ass and ignited the barrel which flared high in the air. But it was a truly huge blaster and the flames not only ignited the barrel, but the nearest recycled Christmas trees. Coated as they were with such a combustible mixture, they didn't catch fire, they friggin' exploded! Bits of flaming plastic-like shards went flying away on the wind to explode the next tree, and the next, and the next. Within 30 seconds the remnants of every tree was flaming brightly and in less than a minute the flames were gone and 50 smoldering sticks were all that remained. None of us had moved and Paw was still bent over and looking over his shoulder at the charred remains of their business. The next day when I picked Karen up, we stopped at our usual place and picked out a lovely Frazier Fir. I had told her the story and that I figured that here was a case where a single fart may not have saved the world, but at least did save 50 home fires. We stopped at their place and the boys were cleaning up the mess and told us it probably meant a Christmas that would be a little bleak for them. Karen is a kind soul and right then and there invited them to our place for Christmas Day. She said they should come early and maybe Santa will have left something for them and that they would be welcome for Christmas dinner too. As we drove home I tried to explain that this probably wasn't a great idea but Karen felt pretty bad for them and they had cheerfully accepted her invitation. On Christmas morning they arrived at 6 AM and the day went downhill from there. But that's another story. So friends, no matter how bad it is and how you feel, there is always a friend out there for you. Even if you're obnoxious, nasty, and haven't bathed in a month, there is always the chance that if you can light a good fart, miracles will occur. Spaw |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: Dave Bryant Date: 22 Feb 02 - 10:42 AM This subject definitely DOES work as a Troll deterrent ! |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: Lonesome EJ Date: 22 Feb 02 - 12:04 PM For the movie, I'm seeing Gene Hackman as Paw and Steve Buscemi as Cletus. Can we get Billy Bob Thornton for Buford? The Coen Brothers are the logical choice for director and producer, which means John Goodman has to play Spaw, I reckon. |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: Little Hawk Date: 22 Feb 02 - 10:29 PM It is simply unwise in the extreme to give Spaw this kind of encouragement, therefore I suggest that all BOYCOTT this smelly thread and discuss something meaningful and tasteful instead...like William Shatner. - LH |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: Rolfyboy6 Date: 22 Feb 02 - 10:32 PM I thought Spaw was the one urging everyone to avoid flamer threads. |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: GUEST Date: 22 Feb 02 - 11:13 PM Not if it involves farting. He has a thing about that. |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: catspaw49 Date: 22 Feb 02 - 11:41 PM The "thing" I have is gas. Spaw |
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Subject: RE: Fart Fart Fart From: technission Date: 23 Feb 02 - 02:47 AM Boy, what a fart-warming tail that was... |