Saturday, September 22, 2012


Someone posted something very funny about a woman ´farting´
in a jewelry shop. I´m writing a novel and it reminded me of
something funny and about ´farting´and ´´shitting. ´ There´s no
other way for me to say it as I had dysentary in Vietnam. It
persisted for two months or more until I was medevaced to the
Chelsea Naval Hospital outside of Boston.

The Mystic River ("Love That Dirty Water"  by the The Standells-
1966) separates Chelsea from Boston.

As a small boy I learnt a lesson that was crucial for my survival.
It was simply this: never go into the bathroom after my father if
he had been in there longer than 30-60 seconds. Piss time.

I remember running upstairs, pushing the bathroom door open
and closing it as I had an urgent need to piss. I immediately
began gasping for air: I thought I was going to pass out. That
was a huge mistake-breathing in. I ran downstairs to my mother
almost crying. She asked my father why he didn´t open the window
after he "took a dump?"

As I grew older I knew why; he didn´t want the neighbours, or
anyone below on the front porch to hear him farting and worse!
We lived in a housing project.

So, if I had to go I would ask my mother if my dad had been in
there, and if he had did he take a shit? Other times I would approach
the door with caution as if my nose were like a sniffer dog´s . I did
rush in a few times and got ambushed. It felt like my nose and lungs
were singed.

Being in the car with my dad on a freezing winter´s day was ´Risky
Busniness.´ All the windows were shut tight. But, he also had three
small children who could retaliate as it were. And, if we did, especially
silently, that really pissed him off to no end. And, he got pissed off if
it was audible.

There´s just no pleasing some people:-

Once when I farted out loud-that was a new toy too just like squeezing
my dick-my dad angrily told me "If you have to go to the bathroom then
go!" Well shit-no pun intended- I told him I didn´t have to go. He told me
that if I had to do that-fart-then go to the bathroom and do it.

And, he really got pissed off when I said "You do it, and you laugh."

It seemed crazy to me to go to the bathroom just to fart, so I ignored
him, and learned to be silent. I was the oldest of three children so I
could blame someone else, or say "it wasn´t me."  And, if everyone
did what my dad said, then the bathroom would never be safe.

My dad said he didn´t mean to it was accidental. Parents
are good at lying and making excuses. I learnt to see the hypocrisy
in all things.

We had a dog named´"Smokey." When he died my parents got
another dog and named him..."Smokey." Creative. Few things are
as bad as a dog´s fart. It´s a friggin anbush when it´s silent. When the
dog farted it was ´red alert time.´ Get him out of the house and open the

Nobody said "Good doggie." When Smokey farted my dad father reacted
almost the way I did, when as a small boy I walked into the bathroom after
he had..."Pinched a Loaf" as they say. The crazy part was that my parents felt
bad for inconveniencing the dog; they felt bad. So, when the dog was let back
in they fed him cold cuts while saying "Oh Smokey, good doggie." That was
a sure way; a guaranteed way of making the dog fart again.

As I grew up I loved the times when "Smokey" farted quietly as he slept
in my parents room. He had to sleep (fart) downstairs. My brother and I
would laugh when he farted in their room.

This is just one bit that will be added to. But, to say I´m not perfect, there´s
two fellas, Jimmy P and Ed D (NJew York) who rememeber an incident. We
were in Chicago attending a meeting of Vietnam Veterans Against the War
(VVAW), and on our last night had a nice meal.

I ate huge amounts of hot chilli. The next day we got into Jimmy´s small
Volkswagon bug and began our trip all the way back to Boston. Well
guess what? I had to fart, and quite often. So, I did so silently. Ed and Jimmy
were up front. At first I pretended not to notice anything, then said it wasn´t me
for the next 12 hours.

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