This American Hen
When it hens, it pours: reader Ken R. hepped me to the This American Life episode from a week ago called “Poultry Slam,” and I haven’t listened to it yet, but I can’t wait to give it a spin at work later…it’s one of those days where I have a shit-ton of complicated inputting to deal with, so having something rad in the headphones will really help me avoid going fetal.
The very next day, BSD emails me and Jaje an excerpt from a recent Bill Simmons chat, in which the questioner asked when he could start ripping farts in front of a new girlfriend. Simmons’s answer — three weeks; no sooner, no later — raised objections from both me and Jaje, Jaje saying that seemed too soon, me claiming (and it’s the truth) that I start floating air biscuits pronto, because a guy I’m dating isn’t on the farts = hilarious train, he’s not the guy and I’d rather figure that out ASAP. So BSD sends a follow-up email explaining to Jaje, “There are two things in this world that Sars thinks have extremely high comedic value: 1. farts 2. hens.”
Obviously, I had to send a response to the effect of “don’t forget 3. farting hens and 4. hen-scented farts,” but seriously, I kind of want to put “1. farts 2. hens” on a t-shirt, under a little graphic of a chicken with a cloud coming out of its dupa.
“Bok bok! [poot!]” …Right?
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ROFL! That would be an awesome shirt. I’d lay odds that you get a shirt like that for Christmas now. LOL! I listened to that TAL earlier this week- it’s definitely a good one. It’s nice to read about other people loving TAL. I’ve tried to explain it’s awesomeness to all my friends, but only one of them tunes in. Foolish people.
I would absolutely buy that shirt.
I would SO buy that t-shirt.
Seriously.
Yeah, I’d totally buy that shirt. In fact, it could be another fundraiser. I can see the headlines now “Chicken farts raise $100,000 for Poultry Rescue Society”
If that shirt doesn’t end up on Glarkware at some point, I’ll be highly disappointed.
Btw, the Poultry Slam is an “annual” (some years they don’t seem to squeeze it in) episode at TAL. Check out the radio archives online for past years. The first Poultry Slam is a thing of beauty and a joy forever.
Also, check out the “20 Stories in 60 Minutes” ep for the Best Dog Name Ever (And an Explanation of Its Origin). I have it in rotation on my iNot.
Oh, I am right on that train with you, Sars. I am reduced to a weeping mess even thinking about it. The first time one of my students farted in front of me in class was one of the hardest things I’d ever gone through; I just couldn’t hold back.
Actually, I once had to throw a kid out for farting in class. I don’t know what was with him, but he was rrrrripping every 25 seconds or so and they were stinky.
Sometimes I think that you should’ve married my husband before I did. You should HEAR what that boy does to a hardwood floor.
“Sometimes I think that you should’ve married my husband before I did. You should HEAR what that boy does to a hardwood floor.”
For some reason, this reduced me to a fit of giggles. I’m blaming finals week. :-)
To follow on to what Manders said, the “Poultry Slam” from last weekend was a rerun from 1998. It’s available for free download at least through today. Act One involves a man who unwittingly ends up with a chicken as a pet. I was disappointed that he hadn’t the foresight to make a harness for walking said hen.
The other “Poultry Slams” can be streamed for free or downloaded for 95 cents each.
Poots are funny, but not when they come from my dad. Ever since my dad’s second heart attack, he’s had the smelliest, nastiest, most lingering farts in the universe. I don’t know if it’s his meds or the food he eats or what, but it’s absolutely unbearable. He got home about half an hour ago and farted in the kitchen. I forgot and went in there to find food. Needless to say, I no longer had an appetite.
Sometimes they’re funny, though. He ripped a fart once without knowing that our Akita had walked up behind him, and I thought the poor dog was going to pass out. I was laughing too hard to help him, though. In retrospect, I guess it’s cruel to fartbomb a blind dog, but it was an accident and he survived, so: funny.
Hee! Amanda C, GREAT story. Dogs and dads and farts are funny!
We had a Golden who used to fart in his sleep — serious bursts of green-wavy-lines-in-the-air foulness. They were so bad the smell would jolt him awake and then he’d give my dad this hilarious sleepy-eyed stare of disdain as if he he couldn’t believe that stench could possibly have come from his own self and therefore it must have been my dad!
Amy: Your Golden totally sounds like my mutt. We call her the “Silent Killer.” Her bed is on the floor next to my dad’s side of the bed, so I call it revenge.
Yoshi (the Akita) is always intrigued by his farts. Once, he was sitting with his butt on the linoleum. He farted and turned to look at his butt, like, “Did I do that?” It made the saddest little “air coming out of a balloon” noise, too. We were eating dinner at the time, so a great effort was made not to choke on the food. Heh.
When I was a kid, our corgi would fart, hear the fart, whip her head around to look at where the fart came from, become immediately suspicious that someone was UP TO SOMETHING NO GOOD BACK THERE, and cyclone into fart-hunter mode — looking, from above, remarkably like a fuzzy donut. Good times.
Only thing funnier: if it were a chicken. Round and around and around!
(Oh and also: I recommend tracking down a video of Ira’s most visit to Letterman … not wildly long ago (i.e., when he still had lingering hope that NPR listeners would carry their devotion to TV without standing on principle just because they could). He talked about the Poultry Slam ep ‘n’ so forth. Good stuff. Bonus: Dave seemed to be a regular listener. like I didn’t love him enough already.)
I seriously have read this column four or five times and each time, I crack up. I just keep thinking of a hen pecking in a farmyard, looking up, beat, and…poot. Possibly a dust cloud puffing up behind.
Hee hee! Thanks for a laugh on a really long Friday.
Oh and I would so totally buy that shirt. And wear it proudly.
Oh my god, y’all are killing me with the fart stories. I have tears in my eyes from the laughing, and my cat (as usual) thinks I’m nuts. And while the 1. farts 2. hens t-shirt is (and will be) great, the TRUE comedy genius is “Bok bok! [poot]” THAT is what needs to be on a shirt. Like, now. hee!
Oh, and seriously? More fart stories. That should be the next Readers-All-In Vine — Hilare Fart Stories for and from the gassy TN commentariat.
…no?
I have never laughed so hard at fart stories. I have tears rolling down my face.
One of my best friends has a hen with seasonal allergies. It’s not quite chicken farts, but it’s still damn funny.
While I’m not a huge fan of farts as comedy – I can take a few in movies, but in reality they smell wicked bad and have managed to ruin a few *ahem* romantic encounters (olfactory proximity, people!) – I’m on board with that chicken shirt. Maybe a white hen on a brick red tee. “Poot” in little yellow letters.
I would buy that shirt in a heartbeat.
My family has a long history of fart humour. Best story ever was when we were at the drive-in (yes, I’m dating myself there) and my dear little mom ripped one so bad that the rest of us – including the dog – literally were hanging our heads out the windows.
Best part of all. The movie? “The Andromeda Strain”
I had a friend in college who let loose with a particularly fruity one while her then-boyfriend was… how can I say this… in close nasal proximity to the source. He was disgusted. She was appalled.
After she (blushingly) told me about it, I giggled for days.
One of my fondest memories of my boyfriend and I goes as follows:
Boyfriend: *walking along and telling story*
Me: *walking along and listening* *sudden stop*
Boyfriend: *walking continues, suddenly realizes I have stopped* Are you OK?
Me: Don’t come back here. Continue with your story.
Boyfriend: *continues story*
Me: *catches up*
– pause of 15 seconds –
Boyfriend: OH! It followed you! It followed you! *flailing and running for house*
It’s all so much better for the imagery if you keep in mind that he’s 6’3″ and 300 pounds with a large leather trench coat and I’m just 5’4″. That’s how I know he’s a keeper: he pays attention to my warnings of potential olfactory destruction, but kisses me once the smell has dissipated.
Y’all are KILLING me, here. I knew my husband-to-be was The One when, during one of our all-over-downtown walks late one night, he paused and muttered “Sorry about this, but I’m in PAIN”, then stuck one leg straight out sideways, uttered “WARRRRRRB” nonverbally, and continued walking. Instead of feeling repulsed, I laughed so hard I almost wet my pants. I figured that if we could rip ’em in front of each other and laugh, it was Meant to Be.
Skyrockets and I spent about 45 minutes — at 2:30 in the morning, mind — rewriting the “Christmastime is here” Peanuts song so that it was about farting hens. Like, he actually got a pen and wrote out lyrics. I provided percussion.
Best boyfriend ever.
I vote for an mp3 of the “Farting Hens are Here” creation. Yes. Please.
My brother-in-law has anosmia. After I related the tale of the day I took my sister, his spouse, to church (her car was in the shop) and she farted so hard in my car that I had to roll all the windows down and open the moonroof, and the stench was still so alarming when we pulled into the church parking lot that one of the church leaders gasped and made a terrible face when we passed him, he said, “I am not disabled. I am blessed.”
I would also buy that shirt.
There was a skit on U.S. Acres one time that featured some kind of humor study institute where one of the things they had discovered was that chickens are funny. I remember the shot of the “inherent humor of certain things” lab with a hen as the representation of “chicken”.
Heh.
I can’t see the term “Poultry Slam” without harking back to the classic “WKRP in Cincinatti” episode.
“…for the love of god, I thought turkeys could fly!”
So, I don’t know if you ever check out Natalie Dee, but… perhaps you should, today.