Jim Dawson - Did Somebody Step on a Duck?: A Natural History of the Fart

Whoa, did somebody step on a duck?

AL CERVIK (RODNEY DANGERFIELD), after letting a long, wet one at a society dinner, in Caddyshack (1980)

A fart changes the atmosphere. In a 2007 L.A. Weekly review of a book about theater mishaps, Steven Leigh Morris recalled a personal moment at a performance of Euripides Iphigenia. During the murder of the heroine by her father, somebody in the audience of about one hundred people released a very small, involuntary fartan accident, not a commentary, Morris wrote. Cutting through the silence, it was audible through at least the front half of the audience and by the actorsassorted guards and spear-carrier types in particularwho were clearly reaching into the marrow of their bones to contain giggles that were rolling through them in small, powerful waves. Over the next few minutes, their mirth suppression hijacked the Greek tragedy and crossed the footlights into the house. Suspension of disbelief unraveled. The tiniest of farts had sent the walls crashing down.

In our public life we hold at bay a disbelief that is not all that different from what we suspend at the theater. We know that when were sitting at home in front of the TV, we pick our noses, scratch our asses, and fart to our hearts content, but when we run down to the store for another six-pack or a bag of chips, we wrap ourselves in a veil of propriety because we want to be acceptable to all those other surreptitious farters hiding their true selves from us. Essentially, were denying our knowledge that were nothing more than tricked-up mammals, a mere baby step up from chimps and orangutans, struggling to adhere to a social code our mothers drummed into us while we sat on the potty.

Thats why the atmosphere changesin more ways than onewhen someone inadvertently lets a big one at the checkout counter or a small one in a quiet theater. A fart can instantly erase the luster from a beautiful girlor make her touchingly vulnerable. It can strip the authority from the cop whos giving you a ticket or the priest presiding at communion. Were shocked, not because we didnt already believe everybody farted, but rather because someone (usually unwillingly) confronts us with the big lie that underpins our conformity to social norms.

When Ten Speed Press released Who Cut the Cheese? in 1999, a major columnist at the Los Angeles Times told me that no family newspaper, including his, would ever print the word fart. A few years later the Times broke that barrier by using the term old farts to describe fogeys who werent keeping up with youth culture. And now the word pops up fairly often in its full flatulent context. In early March 2009, for example, columnist Meghan Daum lamented the loss of a Los Angeles talk-show station with Im taking my fart-joke business elsewhere. In a June 19, 2009, film review, Times critic Betsy Sharkey described the Jack Black/Michael Cera comedy Year One as a turn-back-the-clock, take-a-look-at-our-ancestors fable with fart jokes. And on October 3, 2009, the Times Calendar sections front page broke the visual barrier by running a large, top-of-the-fold photo of childrens comic-strip author Berkeley Breathed with several of his illustrated dogs, including one propelling itself through the air on a skateboard with a whooshing trail of chunkyand I do mean chunkyfart gas. Meanwhile, the Chicago Sun-Times has not only run several articles about the ubiquity of fart humor in American culture today, but also phoned such personages as professional farter Mr. Methane and even yours truly for a quote or two. Clearly, the age of the fart is upon us, and we can deny it no more.

In fact, as youll see in these pages, farts are everywhere, in politics, science, religion, history, sports, entertainment, and well, whats left? We even discover new ones every day, such as the fargle, which is a fart that doesnt quite escape as you lean forward to slip it out, and when you lean back too soon, its forced back in and makes a reverse fart noise. Or how about the new courtesy fart, which is what you offer when someone else accidentally lets one go and you dont want them to feel like an outcast?

Okay, I know, youre asking yourself, what kind of smart feller (an old hillbilly jibe meaning fart smeller) whos well into middle age writes three books about farting? Obviously hes not well. As radio host Stephanie Miller told me ten years ago during my media blitz for Who Cut the Cheese? (the trilogy opener), Jim, youre a very sick man, and youre spending way too much time by yourself. Another talk show host, Bill Handel, thought I should be locked up (though he did love the book).

I suppose I could blame this fixation on arrested development. But before anyone accuses me of having the sniggering sensibility and emotional maturity of a twelve-year-old, let me assure you right now that Ive progressed to at least age seventeen, maybe eighteen. Granted, thats pretty much where Ive stayed, but nobodys perfect. Nearly fifty years have passed since my high school graduation, yet my daily wardrobe is still sneakers, jeans, and T-shirts; my music of choice is 1950s rockabilly and rhythm and blues; my favorite movies are postwar films noir and zombie bloodfests; my romantic ideal is still the exotic, dark-eyed girl with a bouffant high enough to tangle with a ceiling fan; and nothing will get me giggling with dimwitted delight like a well-placed fart. (Oh, and did I mention, ladies, that Im single?) Yes, Im too old for this nonsense, but then again, if I were a mature adult Id be retiring right about now from some cubicle confinement and suffering degenerative brain function (not that theres anything wrong with that), and you wouldnt have the pleasure of my company.