Sometimes I write meaningful essays that make you think. This is not one of those times.
We had a Siamese cat named Schwartz.
Schwartz had the mental capacity of a potato, but with less puzzle solving skills. Schwartz also ate anything. Anything. I clearly remember Schwartz eating squeeze cheese as fast as I could squeeze it out. The cat ate asparagus, tofu, and grass (sometimes together). You’ll be shocked to hear that in a house with three boys feeding the cat whatever crazy things we could find, the cat had the most atrocious gas on the planet. You’ve heard of “bug bombs.” Within minutes of detonation of this cats silent bombs, birds would drop out of mid-air flight in a quarter mile radius.
One evening, my brother Chris somehow came to the realization that Schwartz had not farted for several hours, a definite oddity for him (Schwartz, not my brother). Being an intelligent young lad he came to the logical conclusion that Schwartz had essentially became a loaded anus cannon. Answering the quiet knock of opportunity, my brother grabbed the cat, shoved its butt into a container, and squeezed. Then, having trapped invisible death in a container, he came up to his young brother and shoved my face into what seemed an innocuous container. Describing the experience was difficult, but even at a young age I had a gift for words,
“Mmmmgghlrrrrreeeeeerrrggrrrffffffff,” I said.
When I regained consciousnesses, I agreed, the stink assaulted many senses at the same time.
As a youngest brother of four children, my siblings (looking mainly at you, Chris!) occasionally tormented me. As stated, one of the frequent torments of choice was immersing an individual in putrid odors, usually farts. Despite being the frequent target of tricks, my siblings always had the core foundation of love in their actions, even if I could not see it.
I remember one time playing basketball outside with my brothers. To be honest, I don’t know what my brother had been eating previously that day, but for the purpose of the story let’s just say it was a mixture of rancid yogurt, a bloated whale carcass, and a bag of maggoty garbage from a five week garbage strike. It must have been something similar, because my brother had a secret weapon on the court that day. For, as we played, he fumigated the area with a dense, mustard-gas like vapor that clouded vision and paralyzed me. Seriously, it was somewhat windy outsize but this entity did not move. Needless to say, after the basketball burst into flames and we irrigated our eyes before they melted in our sockets, we stopped playing for a little bit.
Why do I tell you this?
Well, a recent article claimed that hydrogen sulfide my have a positive impact on long term health.
For those of you without my penchant for flatulence trivia, hydrogen sulfide is found in farts.
As it turns out, the hydrogen sulfide causes our bodies to release certain stress chemicals which subsequently release factors that may reduce the risks of stroke, heart disease, cancer, and dementia.
That’s right. Smelling farts may help you live longer, healthier, happier lives.
No longer will they be called silent but deadly, instead, silent but life-saving.
Due to my loving, giving, and caring family, I may live longer thanks to the power of their stink. I believe Mother Teresa said it best: “Give till it hurts.” That’s true love friends. Now go have a second bowl of chili and start saving lives!
Heck, I might even start eating fiber one bars (<— click if you missed this entry!) on the way to work… nah, I’m not quite that sadistic.
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ok, now here’s a video of why dinosaurs became extinct…