The Magnetic Fart Theory


by Steven O’Dell

Here is as good a place as any to discuss my Magnetic Fart Theory—if indeed any good place exists to discuss such a thing. Anyway, why is it that some farts seem to follow you everywhere you go and there is no way to effectively escape them? I call these Magnetic Farts. So foul are they that they follow you even into another room. It’s like they are programmed to be heat seeking. But finally, I have a theorem of sorts to explain the phenomena.

(Hang on—phone’s ringing.)

Okay, that was just plain weird! I just got a call from a woman that may be a founding member of the Weed Head Brigade. The conversation went something like this:

ME: “Hello?”

HER: “Hello.”

ME: “Who am I speaking to?”

HER: “The owner of the phone you are using. It was stolen.”

ME: “I just bought this phone a month-and-a-half ago, on”

HER: “Is your number 520-491-XXXX?”

ME: “No, it’s 520-491-XXXZ”

HER: “Hang on, let me look up my number.”

ME: ???!!!

HER: “Oh, uh….”    (Silence/disconnect)

ME: ???!!!

In fairness, she did call back and apologize—she dialed the right number and found her cell phone. Life can be interesting. Reminds me of the guy that called me and we talked for about five minutes before we realized he had called a wrong number. Only after I hung up did I wish that I had kept his number—he seemed like a great guy. We could’ve had a BBQ together.

Anyway, back to the Magnetic Farts Theory. I hold that since there are eddy currents that lie in your wake as it were, as you move from one spot to another, it stands to reason that some of these noxious vapors are bound to be captured and travel in that wake, also—much like surfing, only backward, if you get my drift. (Several puns could be made of this. Seems a shame to waste them. Have fun.) Combine this with the fact that farts are composed of hydrogen, a lighter-than-air gas that rises, and methane, a heavier-than-air gas that settles, and you have the perfect explanation for why you can’t seem to get away from some of these vicious human back drafts (you might also refer to them as ‘A Blast from Your Past.’). Either way, the effects are ghastly (yes, that was a pun).

Now, there is an effective way to get rid of these toxic and odiferous gases in a hurry. It involves the use of a match or a lighter, but I definitely recommend that you be wearing some garment to cover the offending orifice when you apply the flame. It is not first-hand experience that leads me to this conclusion, but I have it on very good authority, none-the-less. Blisters can and will result.

I certainly don’t expect to win the Nobel Prize in physics for my theorem, but next time you pass gas, think of me with some degree of reverence and reflect upon the meaning of what you have just done. You won’t regret it, I assure you. This is not to say that others won’t, so be forewarned.

Also, my studies have led to the classification of gas-passing into three sonic categories that are based on the already existing frequency crossovers used in three-way stereo systems; namely: Woofers, Squawkers and Tweeters. Woofers are the low resonance, growly types—the perpetrator may be referred to as “Rumble Seat.” Squawkers hit in the mid-range band, comprising the majority of farts. Tweeters are the upper register and are often the funniest, though hardest to reproduce without considerable practice. Add to these the Ultrasonic and Infrasonic farts (among these are the dreaded SBD’s—Silent, But Deadly.)

The approaches, or delivery methods if you will, of any of these will likely fall into the Bark—a single, sudden report; the Staccato—a series of sharp reports; the Floater—a long, sustained note carried out according to the skill and control of the individual deliverer; Articulated—a highly skilled individual will make it sound as if there are words or phrases being spoken (this is akin to throwing your voice, if you will, although the breath is considerably worse); and the Flat or Muffled delivery—no apparent sound is noticed. Despite common belief, the word ‘flatulence’ does not derive from Flat or vice-versa. They were labeled independently, although the coincidence is certainly eerie.

It should be noted that no truly accurate method of measuring ‘muzzle velocity’ has been developed (and anything that comes close, I don’t even WANT to discuss), so far as I have been able to ascertain (no pun intended), but that the velocities can be tremendously high is beyond question, as some will actually develop resonant frequencies sufficiently powerful enough to cause physical pain at the exit orifice. This can only be accomplished with very high velocity jets of gas.

Before passing (couldn’t resist) on to another subject, why do things seem to happen in bunches? (We could make another related pun out of that, but we need to maintain some level of dignity, do we not?) Just in the past few days I have repeatedly been on a bus that had a defective announcement system. The nice, soothing female voice that was meant to tell you what corner you were approaching or where you were getting off was having some very real difficulties. The amount of distortion in the recording made it sound, not like a woman’s voice, but a high-pressure human gas leak. No, really. So, every time someone was getting off the bus they would walk under this speaker that would make a strained farting sound. Oddly, no one laughed except me. What’s wrong with the world (I ask as I sit here on my metal chair in a small room)? Maybe I need to stay away from buses.

One last thought. If brain farts could ignite, I would be brilliant for a few seconds. I need to work on that.


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