Aeromaticus Most-phoulus

Sitting here at the Center of the Universe I see a lot of things, here a lot of things, and experience a lot of things. One of these experiences is often endured in the workplace. But before I begin, I must explain. It is true that in my appointed position as Center of the Universe I must also hold down a side job to bring income into my household to support myself and my family. Being the Center of the Universe does not pay very well. In fact, for those of you out there thinking about laying claim to this title, it pays NOTHING! Tell that sob story to the bill collectors and see how fast you get evicted.

Now, to continue. I must work and as a result I must interact with my minions, albiet on a small scale. I like these fellow mortals, and they seem to tolerate me somewhat. Unfortunately, there is an aspect with working with humanity that can, at times, become somewhat distracting. That annoyance is flatulance. Correct, my minions, this blog is about farting in the workplace.

Hey, everyone does it, we all know this as fact. It is to what degree of stench that is presented that really gets to us. Those of us that work in the middle-class laugh about it when it happens, even telling stories about some of our "greatest releases". But I wonder, is this same jovial responce found it the chambers of priests? How about on the floor of the Senate or Parliment? And would an ill-timed effervescent emition set an undescided jury into a hasty conviction? Or aquittal? Makes you wonder about those O.J. and Blake juries, eh?

A rather nocuous gaseous release on an assembly line can slow down, and even hold up production. People will drop whatever it is they are doing to vacate a contaminated area, for as long as it takes for the offending fumes to clear. This I have witnessed first hand. And believe me, The Center of The Universe, when I tell you that there is nothing worse in life than walking unaware into an invisible cloud of death-smell. And I have experienced some of the worse aromas the human body can vent and still remain alive.

Smelling the stench released by others happens to all of us, everywhere in our daily lives. It happens to you while standing in line at the bank, or sitting in the confession box on Sunday morning. It arrives while at dinner with your new boy/girl friend's parents, as well as during a job interview. Let us all face the fact that if we suddenly find our noses assaulted with the fragrance of fresh road-kill skunk, we immediately, if not vocally, pin the stench on the nearest person. Whoever that person may be. The President, our Rabbi, the foreman, the bank teller, your kid's teacher, the waiter. It doe not matter. We always point our offened noises to the nearest and judge them guilty. Unless someone happens to be giggling as they quickly move out of the area, that is!

The great question here is a simple one. What can we possibly do about farts in the workplace? The answer is a simple one. Nothing! Absolutely nothing. God created us in His image, so the Bible says, and that includes digestive gaseous emitions, evidently. So, by venting we are doing nothing less than acting within God's wishes. And if our collective emissions are gathering above us to eat away at the ozone layer, so be it. It's not like we have a choice in this matter. Even tree-hugging enviro-Nazi's fart!

So, my minions, the next time you walk through your office, down your assembly line, or elseware amongst us remember this: Sometimes the Smeller's the Feller! Good afternoon, and good night!