I only got as far as “I’m a man and farting is an important part of my masculinity.”

Pass the drill and the bleach, please.

Alone in the boat. Farting.

Why don’t I just trust the shorter?

What a pathetic human being.

Ruh, roh. Sorry ’bout that, JM

Goddammit, I Trusted the Shorter this time around, and I *still* need the fucking brain bleach.

I didn’t trust the shorter long enough to read his first sentence, then I got the hell back in the boat.

Well I suppose it’s just a more ornate and long-winded way of saying he has given up all hope of ever getting laid.

I don’t see how this one is as offensive as, say, the head of the last thread. The man’s a moron with vile personal habits and he should be segregated from human society. But nothing in this particular post is as disgusting as othering Haitians at the time of their greatest need.

When the Coliseum Falls:

this guy farting in a crowded store

this guy farting in a crowded store

this guy farting in a crowded store

this guy farting in a crowded store

this guy farting in a crowded store

this guy farting in a crowded store

this guy farting in a crowded store

this guy farting in a crowded store

anusanusanusanusanusanusanusanusanusanusanusanus

THNX TINTIN

No wonder we have a problem with global wrming. Can’t we just cap a trade this idiot.

Warming also. Not proofreading is an important part of my masculinity.

I trust the shorter.

I trust the Shorter.

oh God, I should have Trusted The Shorter.

I always trust it
Except sometimes when I don’t
The shorter – Trust it!

I didn’t realize when they said “culture” they meant they were an E. coli growth medium.

“…Not proofreading is an important part of my masculinity.” Wrming is okay. “Wrmng” is better, because vowels aren’t as manly as consonants. But of course you risk confusion. Like if instead of meaning “global wrmng” you meant “Steve Mazzeo needs serious de-wrmng”.

I’m a large man and farting has always been a point of pride for my masculinity.

People defend the patriarchy even after it gets dumbed down to the point that “patriarchy” means “I have a right to fart, woman – it’s a sign of my manliness!”? Really?

I mean… really? Millennia of subjugating women, building up elaborate social structures to ensure that men can always look down on women for being inferior, all so this guy can fart and talk about how much of a man it makes him?

Really?

There’s nothing more masculine than self-disemvoweling. Just ask Kurosawa.

The goggles fail.

Trust it.

Fat, sweaty guy farting in store and enjoying its effect on fellow shoppers.

Stay.

In.

Boat.

May I request that the photo be Photoshopped? Please? Into something with a sweaty cherub being cast out of heaven, maybe.

So far from that site, we have the guy who’s patting himself on the back for being selfish in bed and the guy who farts.

Seriously, that’s a spoof site, riffing on the unemployed-Cheeto-eating-lives-at-home libertarian meme, right?

Right?

May I request that the photo be Photoshopped? Please? Into something with a sweaty cherub being cast out of heaven, maybe.

Or the face on the front of a zeppelin, perhaps.

“farting has always been a point of pride for my masculinity.”

Never getting beyond the anal stage isn’t masculinity.

So far from that site, we have the guy who’s patting himself on the back for being selfish in bed and the guy who farts.

Hours of fun!

OK, to all of you “POOP!” and “PENIS” posters out there (you know who you are) can we get over the vapors that this guy felt the need to post fart jokes on his adolescent little blog? Sure it’s tacky, but come on, there’s far more offensive things on that board than fart jokes.

fart jokes

I missed the joke part.

What. The. Fuck.

He ACTUALLY wrote a story about farting in public and it was a source of pride?

Staying in the boat. But god help me there is a temptation to go gawk at the accident. Resist!

I *always* trust the shorter.

Ho hum. This guy farts in stores. Jonah goes out on speaking engagements. I don’t see a whole lotta difference there.

So far from that site, we have the guy who’s patting himself on the back for being selfish in bed and the guy who farts.

Oooh, I need to get me some hot libertarian ass, post-haste!

Got out of the boat. Had to, it was a matter of pride…Tintin practically double-dog-dared me to.

And now…now I have no reason to live.

Bukowski did it better.

—

Farting is much like fucking: You can’t do it all the time, but when you do, there often times comes a feeling of proudness, as if your artistry in the act were a precious thing. I fart more than I fuck. And I fart BETTER than I fuck. And I’m pleased to be mistaken for a fog horn in the middle of the night.

Well I suppose it’s just a more ornate and long-winded way of saying he has given up all hope of ever getting laid.

Heh. Wind.

This seems to be a singularly trustworthy shorter, goodness knows why.

Even though this sterling specimen of contemporary wingnut culture sounds like a real bucket of premium hi-jinx & all, I’m really liking it in the boat a lot right now, thanks. Besides, I can’t swim, I left my water-wings in my other pants, & last but not least, I just ate.

Someone ought to spike this jackhole’s cheeseburgers with generous doses of Bean-O™ & watch the hilarity ensue as he prolapses his arse-chute while desperately attempting to assert his “masculinity” … where’s a surrealist prankster when you really need one?

I’m staying in the boat. I’ll be in the lazarette hiding under the spare sails. Call me when it’s my watch. Or when the wind dies down.

I believe this post along with many others posted by Tintin and his cohorts are part of a nefarious plot to keep all Sadly,naughts! firmly in the boat. They know that once all of us are trained to never, ever leave the boat they can then proceed to post whatever they want linked to whatever they want (or linked to nothing at all) and we will never know. Then the mind control can begin. I am, however, encouraged by two things. First is the Sadly,naught!’s unrelenting morbid curiosity and mad desire to see the train wreck. We will never manage to trust the shorter. The second thing is that even if I’m wrong about the first thing and we eventually are cowed into trusting the shorter the shorter will not nearly be unbelievable enough to keep us there when the posts are no longer based on actual wingnuttia and are geared to mind control. Sorry Tintin, your evil plan is doomed to failure!

This guy farts in stores. Jonah goes out on speaking engagements. I don’t see a whole lotta difference there.

Jonah gets paid for his wind.

My cultural commentary blog will be called “Slouching Toward Gomorrah,” and it’ll be all angel rape slash and panegyrics to poor posture.

Now I can’t stop myself wondering about the Reason and National Review offices and the glibtard think tanks–are there specially dedicated farting rooms, where you can go to let off a few flabby woofs or pause to sample the manly leavings of your coworkers, or do they just stroll through the office, releasing a fresh air biscuit with every step?

What is it with winger nutballs and their insane narcissism?

I mean really. I don’t know if this bonehead has any writing talents or not (I suspect not) but if he does have them (again, I repeat myself, a gigantic assumption) does he not have anything better to do with his pen than talk about his own asshole?

FFS WHERE”S THE DECON I LEFT THE BOAT PLEASE GOD HELP ME HELP ME

Any art has an untamed quality to it; a life of its own, which allows a given work grow to fruition of its own volition. And through this untamed magnificence an artist can produce more masterful works of art than he/she could create with all forces under his/her full control. Such is the case with my greatest fart of 2009.

prolapses his arse-chute

such a handy phrase, useful in many social situations

stryx said,
January 15, 2010 at 19:12

Okay, look. There’s a reason why I didn’t leave the boat on this one, and I ALWAYS leave the boat. Don’t go bringing back the piranhas up in here.

Two feet firmly planted on the boat. Na gonna clikit, nuhuh.

Fart Pride is something kept to oneself.

Why? Dear god, WHY?

SadlyNauts ahoy, raid that Libtards thread and smack about the libertarian fucks, for God, Henry, and St TinTin…

“farting has always been a point of pride for my masculinity.”

Fascinating. Do tell me more.

Ignatius himself was dressed comfortably and sensibly. The hunting cap prevented head colds. The voluminous tweed trousers were durable and permitted unusually free locomotion. Their pleats and nooks contained pockets of warm, stale air that soothed Ignatius.

Here i was all ready to cry “fatism.” This is why there needs to be a fat mafia. If I behaved like this the pink pistols would have me gunned down within the hour.

As long as we’re discussing farting, we might as well read a Pulitzer Prize winner.

Ignatius pulled his flannel nightshirt up and looked at his bloated stomach. He often bloated while lying in bed in the morning contemplating the unfortunate turn that events had taken since the Reformation. Doris Day and Greyhound Scenicruisers, whenever they came to mind, created an even more rapid expansion of his central region. But since the attempted arrest and the accident, he had been bloating for almost no reason at all, his pyloric valve snapping shut indiscriminately and filling his stomach with trapped gas, gas which had character and being and resented its confinement. He wondered if his pyloric valve was trying, Cassandra-like, to tell him something.

Blessed is St. Xeni of the boingboing, for she provides the bleach.

Someone with much more time (and, perhaps, talent) than I should re-write the lyrics to Public Enemy’s “Can’t Truss It,” since so many can’t, even though they should, truss1 it.

Or perhaps not. Just a thought.

(In this case, “truss” is what Harry Reid may refer to as a “Negro dialect” pronunciation of the word “trust.” It is not to imply that we should somehow reinforce it with some sort of triangular bracing, nor tie the legs of some sort of bird in preparation for cooking. Although the latter may be a good option for Steve Farty McNeverlaid Mazzeo, lest he wind up killing everyone in his local EB Games one evening. So .. um … shit. Neverthefuckmind.)

g FTW.

Also: I smell (ahem) a meme. _________has always been a point of pride for my masculinity can be applied to, oh, just about any self-indulgent thing one can name. F’r instance:

Boffing altar boys has always been a point of pride for my masculinity.

Belching loudly at funerals has always been a point of pride for my masculinity.

Have fun, Sadlynauts!

Oh, the methanity!

Superscript code does not work in comments, apparently.

FYWP! You go to hell — you go to hell and you die!

When your “Journal of American Culture” reads like Idiocracy viral marketing, something has gone horribly awry.

I don’t know if this bonehead has any writing talents or not

First paragraph, last sentence,

Much like the broken winds themselves the tales of past gas billow and grow from a bearly audible tuft to a thunderous clap.

So… no.

Also, bleahhh. Should have stayed in the boat, but noooOOOOoooo. I had to wade in deep enough to blow fart bubbles.

The post is not offensive…just disgusting. I can’t imagine why anyone-male or female-would want to share such a thing.

I can’t help but share this last quote from “A Confederacy of Dunces” :

Bouncing up and down on his side vigorously, Ignatius sensed a belch rising in his throat, but when he expectantly opened his mouth he emitted only a small burp. Still, the bouncing had some physiological effect. Ignatius touched the small erection that was pointing downward into the sheet, held it, and lay still, trying to decide what to do. In this position, with the red flannel nightshirt around his chest and his massive stomach sagging into the mattress, he thought somewhat sadly that after eighteen years of his hobby it had become merely a mechanical physical act stripped of the flights of fancy and invention that he had once been able to bring to it. At one time he had almost developed it into an art form, practicing the hobby with the skill and fervor of an artist and philosopher, a scholar and gentleman. There were still hidden in his room several accessories which he had once used, a rubber glove, a piece of fabric from a silk umbrella, a jar of Noxema. Putting them away after it was all over had eventually grown too depressing.

I always thought Ignatius had been too farcically drawn to be real. It’s amazing to encounter a living, breathing replica.

Stupid fat fuck.

Fat, sweaty guy farting in store and enjoying its effect on fellow shoppers.

Pretty much the definition of modern libertarianism right there in a nutshell.

Dear. Fucking. God.

That may be the dumbest website I have ever seen. Here is a quote from a story further down. This will kill a bunch of your brain cells, so please be sitting down.

“See what I mean? Earthquakes are just the worst. They’re no good at all. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”

I would expect this from a third grader’s paper. Fucking unbelievable.

Also, the fat guy who can’t please a woman posted that he liked all the negative comments in his post, because it is better than indifference. Proving that people can collectively be awesome, no one has commented on that post.

I think that site should be be put behind a glass cage like a garter snake exhibit outside the entrance of the reptile house. It is a warmup exhibit for the Malkins and Atlas Jugs sites.

Cowards. I read the entire first paragraph. And as soon as I can get drunk muster up some more courage, I’m going back to read the second paragraph.

Wusses.

g, I think my favorite has always been: “I am at the moment writing a lengthy indictment against our century. When my brain begins to reel from my literary labors, I make an occasional cheese dip.”

I always thought Ignatius had been too farcically drawn to be real. It’s amazing to encounter a living, breathing replica.

Jonah Loadpants has always made me think of Ignatius Reilly, but now, clearly, Steve Mazzeo is revealed to be a more precise incarnation.

I’m not, repeat NOT, going to get out of the boat. However, inquiring minds want to know — is he as talented as Le Pétomane?

scuse ty[e plz am dog

stry mde me vommitz

dadz sayys bd dog

me hatez steve will bitez when I seez him

The post is not offensive…just disgusting.

I wouldn’t even go as far as disgusting. It’s more pathetic.

The fact that he takes such joy, and even pride, in making the lives of others trivially unpleasant kind of says it all.

First rule of Fart Club is no one talks about Fart Club!

I farted in history class today, y’know, just to make the boys laugh and I swear to god it was so heinous it made Connie Demico vomit.

I trust the Shorter.

I do too, but I honor the brave readers whose brains, retinae and stomachs have been damaged by not trusting the Shorter. In trusting, I don’t always understand the shorter. But the plucky Sadlynaughts who’ve left the boat report back on the horrors they’ve witnessed, always making me glad I trusted the Shorter (and the ‘Trane and Bird. Also).

I always thought Ignatius had been too farcically drawn to be real. It’s amazing to encounter a living, breathing replica.

Jonah Loadpants has always made me think of Ignatius Reilly, but now, clearly, Steve Mazzeo is revealed to be a more precise incarnation.

It’s not enough just to be fat and gassy. You have to have the same air of rigid reactionary pseudointellectualism and aversion to labor. I think J-Load’s got the superior sealed valve in this comparison.

Say, did you guys know that in Arabic, there are two different words for farts: Fissyea, meaning stinky but silent, and Darta, one that makes noise. I don’t think they acknowledge that farts can make noise and stink at the same time.

We need to exploit cultural differences like this to win the War on Terror, and I suggest sending Mazzeo into the thick of it.

Does xkcd read the Sadlies?

It might be wise for Steve to eat more fibre, so he can shit anally rather than through his fat typing fingers.

Judicious diaskuesis:

I’m have only the most juvenile concept of what it means to be a man and farting is an important part of my masculinity.

Truly, this man is a 21st Century Ben Franklin or maybe Mark Twain. I’m not surprised you people fail to appreciate the great tradition in American letters being carried on here. Geniuses, like farts, are rarely appreciated in their own time. It’s clear from this article that this man is the match-bearer for a new generation of fartographers.

Like reverter says, always trust the Shorter.

He clasps the crag with crooked hands;
Close to the sun in lonely lands,
Ringed with the azure world, he stands.

The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls;
He watches from his mountain walls,
And like a thunderbolt he farts.

(h/t National Lampoon)

Not nearly enough mockery of libertarians in this thread. Didn’t you read the footnote people?!

How about:

I’m a man libertarian and farting is an important part of my masculinity politics.

even after you drill a hole in your skull and rinse your brain with bleach, grain alcohol and a bottle of cheap cologne.

Or as I call it, Saturday night.

Plus, I can’t imagine Mr. Smelly McFartington pulling off the following:

If you molest us again, sir, you shall feel the sting of the lash across your pitiful shoulders.

while I can totally picture Jonah saying it, since I’ve seen him say worse. And with a straight face.

So, I guess we can expect “Atlas Farted” being self-published on sold on Amazon soon?

the tales of past gas billow and grow from a bearly audible tuft to a thunderous clap.

Bear tufts are audible?

I took “bearly audible” to mean that bears could hear the tufts, but I may be mistaken.

bearly audible
I think that means that only bears can hear it.

So, I guess we can expect “Atlas Farted” being self-published on sold on Amazon soon?

And yet, that’s the least offensive thing to emanate out of Galt’s Gulch.

The Wii aisle of the video game section was packed with mothers tethered to their children as they endlessly searched for the best way to spend their gift card. I had just shoved my way into the fray when a ninja slipped from my anus.

Wrong aisle.

Which is why I always keep a bear near by. Almost any bear will work, but I find a Kodiak is most reliable. If anyone tries to go “silent but deadly” on me they soon find themselves at the wrong end of a pissed off bear.

Always trust the shorter.
Always trust the shorter.
Always trust the shorter.
Always trust the shorter.
Always trust the shorter.
Always trust the shorter.
Always trust the shorter.
Always trust the shorter.

From now on I will repeat this mantra a hundred times a day.

If he’s a libertarian, why is he so proud of having gassed someone’s place of business and driven out all the customers, like he’s the junior division of Aum Shinrikyo?

I am Fart, herald of Shit, Devourer of Worlds! Humanity, your doom is nigh!

Look, whatever comes out of either end of a Libertarian has pretty much the same results; i.e. it is noxious and makes no sense, but pleases the narcissistic Libertarian greatly. If people take greater than usual offense, then he judges it to be one of the better examples of his buttly or mouthly emissions.

junior division of Aum Shinrikyo

That’s pretty great.

Fart Liberation: The Next Frontier for RW Protesters…

I always trust the shorter; I’ll be damned if I’ll click on the link and encourage the jagoffs.

When I encounter this behavior in public, I (being completely without shame) will holler in my stentorian voice “JESUS CHRIST, DUDE! LIGHT A MATCH! WHAT CRAWLED UP IN YOU AND DIED? WAS YOUR BIRTH A RESULT OF ANAL SEX? etc. etc.”

I recall from my youth, in-between Cosby and Carlin records, hearing a Farting Contest. Rather, THE Farting Contest to end all farting contests. British production if memory serves.

But I most definitely remember the climax of the event and the agony of defeat:

“The Champ SHITS! The Champ SHITS!”

I can only hope for the day his fart-shit separator suffers a catastrophic failure.

For obvious reasons, I will refrain from comment.

I think I have found audio of Steve here.

Libertarian butt. Must be due to the sharting.

If he’s a libertarian, why is he so proud of having gassed someone’s place of business and driven out all the customers, like he’s the junior division of Aum Shinrikyo?

Well, it wasn’t his business, was it? I mean, that’s all that matters in the end. FYIGM!

when a ninja slipped from my anus.

So… he was shoplifting toys?

Also, Jesus Squicksticky Christ. Farts are usually funny. I’m as juvenile as the next guy. At least. This dipshit manages to take one of the true classics of toilet humor 101 and full-on “Is this thing on?’ bomb with it.

FAIL.

Once on a cross-country flight, someone in the part of the plan I was sitting in farted silently and quite odorifically throughout the entire five hours. It was excruciating. Waves of the most noxious stink wafted among the 3-4 rows of seats near me.

And it was a very weird experience, in terms of personal relationships. You didn’t know who the culprit was, so making eye contact with fellow passengers was fraught with uncertainty. If I wrinkled my nose at someone, would they think I was accusing them, or commiserating with them? Or would they think I was the culprit myself? There was no way to tell what direction it was coming from, either.

Dude had a ninja up his ass.

I suspect that this guy’s post in neither magical, nor musical, not to mention not good for your heart, so I’m trusting the shorter.

A most unwelcome emission

No. Nonononononono. I nearly always trust the shorter, and I’m damn well trusting it now, but I read the footnotes.

Tiny though my glimpse was into the abyss, the abyss winked its sphincter back into me. And now I want to die.

“Move forward, not backward, upward not forward, and always fartiing, farting, farting towards freedom.” –Kang Mazzeo

(too obscure?)

Once on a cross-country flight, someone in the part of the plan I was sitting in farted silently and quite odorifically throughout the entire five hours.

Sorry about that. I was making what I like to call “invisible moat”.

Nah, even pop ilculturate me got it. Except for the “mazzeo” part. Wtf is that about?

Days of meats, sweets, and egg nog (so much egg nog) had been processed into a biologic weapon: I’ve never smelled Sarin gas, but I’d assume it’s pleasant by comparison.

Sarin is odorless. Duh.

Dude had a ninja up his ass.

Which gave me pause. Something mildly frightening gave way to a strange thought: buttninjas vs. buttpirates. Dunno which I should contemplate more.

establishment of phratry boundaries and reification of the persona via ambient pneuma – a structural approach

p.s. – i will NOT be venturing beyond the shorter for this one thank you very much

Y’all, seriously. Stop bringing them piranhas in the boat! DAMN.

Flatulence is theft!

He is a moron. A moron is someone who farts in the bathtub and bites the bubbles.

A moron is someone who farts in the bathtub and bites the bubbles.</i.

Such a person is, according to Vonnegut, a twerp.

Can’t find linky just now.

Google-fu FAIL.. HTML FAIL. I’ll just go kill myself now.

… when a ninja slipped from my anus.
–Stinky McNeverlaid

In his defense, that’s got to be better than a sumo wrestler …

How is it that no one has speculated about Egg-nog soaked tampons?

I think you just did.

How is it that no one has speculated about Egg-nog soaked tampons?

A momentary lapse into good taste?

Not that there’s anything wrong with that….

Wond – I vaguely remember that farting contest bit from back in the 70’s, but I have no clue who did it. The end (so to speak) is the part I remember as well.

#

buttninjas vs. buttpirates. Dunno which I should contemplate more.

buttninjas are silent.

So… he was shoplifting toys?

Or motorcycles. Not the usual method of concealing a bike, but I’ve seen, um, photos…

I never realised that “I am fat and I stink” was a proud male boast. I should get out more. Perhaps not to a DVD store though.

I’m a large man and farting has always been a point of pride for my masculinity.

It’s all he’s got.

Thank God he’s on their side.

Fuck staying in the boat, I’m staying on the goddamned jetty.

I trusted the shorter! And for some reason I’m still disgusted.

You know what would make this guy recoil in horror? Recounting the pride in my feminity I felt by detailing my most memorable menstrual periods “One time in 1986….”

Hooray, I’m drunk enough already that I can’t find my way out of the boat!!!!

Anywho, you can blame the Parodezra Klein from the Althouse thread for this.

U can’t stop me motherfucker ‘cuz I’m on a boat.

I’m drunk enough that I don’t care if this make me older and cheesier than whatever mysterious milk product is lying underneath the layers of mold in the Ziploc baggie at the far back of the fridge.

SAAAAIIIILLLL-ing
Takes me AAA-waaaaaay
To where I’ve always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
And soon I will be free

when a ninja slipped from my anus.
So… he was shoplifting toys?

These people-smugglers will stoop to ANYTHING.

I hate me for learning to read. Otherwise, I might still be alive. DO NOT CLICK THROUGH!

As if I needed another reason not to go to Best Buy.

I imagine he thinks it is a laugh riot when he goes from pneumatic mode to hydraulic with these hijinks and drops a loaf on the floor at McD’s too. It’s tough to be fat these days*, but when we have professional grade assclowns like this one polishing our images, it really adds to the joy.

*It’s easy to get there, it just sucks to be there. Kinda like Detroit or Jersey.

buttninjas vs. buttpirates. Dunno which I should contemplate more.

buttninjas are silent.

But deadly.

Oh, for the love of Zombie Jesus, I left the boat.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooooooooo!

Somebody please tell me that this guy isn’t paid to write. Otherwise I will be a serious problem for the suicide prevention hotline.