Sigh....

Yesterday we got the news.

Uncle Claude, another of Pop's brothers, died. Of all my uncles, I think I knew Claude the best. Or at least, I knew him more.

He was a character, to be sure. Let's see, he smoked (mores if i remember correctly), and would sometimes let the whole cigarette burn into a single curled ash. He also loved to play Solitaire. He was a tyrant with the remote control, and would sometimes surprise you with a 'titty twister.'

The thing I remember most about him, however, was his prodigious gas. The man worked in flautulance the other men work in oils, or in clay.

You'd be sitting in the living room, and Claude would be sitting at the table, playing cards. He'd 'crazy Ivan' one way or another, and let go a depth charge. Sometimes, it sounded like a trumpetting elephant, somtimes like a chain saw. You never knew. Then Claude would get this big grin on his face as we all began to chew his ass about it, if you'll forgive the term.

Yes, my uncle Claude was a Fartist.

Please, in honor of my deceased, take this word and use it in your daily life, if only once.

Later,

T.