| 2002-06-13 : 12:15 a.m. | |||||||||
| the light of the world | |||||||||
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Yesterday, Basil the cat and I farted. Farts spwed from our gastrointestianal systems like so much pro-Amerikan rhetoric spoken by the puppet president George W and his puppeteers. With each new flatulous event, I lighted a match. As the aroma of burned material filled our nostrils, we breathed deeply the cleaned air. Did we seek to quell those farts? Did we eat beano? Did we consume lactose intolerance pills? Oh no my friend. One fart followed another. Taxidermists, sex workers, nutty professors, hard nosed bureaucrats, high schoolers with mediocre personalities, psychologists, emergency room workers, idiot savants, agoraphobics, ballerinas, animal lovers, rugged individualists, evangelists, commies, conspiracy theorists, sectaries, tug boat operators! What do all of these things have in common? All people, at all times, have quelled their farts by lighting matches. How could we ever compromise a connection so deep, a connection so visceral? My fart is your fart. Ours are the farts of world unity. The match I light is the light of the world.
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