Love is the Fart of Every Heart

Sir John Suckling (1609-1642):

If when Don Cupids dart
Doth wound a heart,
we hide our grief
and shun relief;
The smart increaseth on that score;
For wounds unsearcht but ranckle more.

Then if we whine, look pale,
And tell our tale,
men are in pain
for us again;
So, neither speaking doth become
The Lovers state, nor being dumb.

When this I do descry,
Then thus think I,
love is the fart
of every heart:
It pains a man when ‘t is kept close,
And others doth offend, when ‘t is let loose.

Sir John Suckling (1640)


The Loss of James Joyce – Fart Savant


James Joyce, contemplating Nora’s essence.

Had James Joyce developed his fart sommelier talent rather than distracting himself with writing novels and drinkingeverything in Ireland … with Hemingway, my noble profession may have finally reached peerage with chefs, dancers, and the entertainer I met in Luxembourg who could do that thing with the ping pong balls (Je t’aime… moi non plus, Angelique).

“I think I would know Nora’s fart anywhere. I think I could pick hers out in a roomful of farting women. It is a rather girlish noise not like the wet windy fart which I imagine fat wives have. It is sudden and dry and dirty like what a bold girl would let off in fun in a school dormitory at night. “

Link to full quote

Inaugural Post

Welcome, one and all, to the definitive Fart Sommelier.

I am your host, LePétomane.

Over the coming months and years, I will endeavour to expand your horizons as we explore the inputs, body, flavor, aroma, texture, volume, mood, hang time, and recommended pairings for your flatus.

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