The Science of Fart Eating

I have always been intrigued by the concept of fart eating, ever since reading Orson Scott Card’s novel, 'Enders Game', in which the term is used frequently amongst the adolescent populace of the near future. Based on this odd yet widely accepted vernacular, I can only assume that in the future the eating farts must be a commonplace occurrence; apparently the result of extreme technological advances. Which brings me to my thesis - how would one actually go about the eating of a fart, if one were inclined to do so? I do not refer to the simple process of inhalation. When breathing air which has been recently perforated by a fart, almost certainly some trace fumes do make their way into the stomach. However, simply breathing fart vapors can hardly be classified as bona-fide consumption, just as the regular, uncontaminated air we gormandize so regularly is not considered to be the actual gastrointestinal digestion of said noble and volatile gases. In essence, a fart could only be considered well and truly eaten if the majority of molecules which comprise the fart, via a process of voluntary muscular contraction, are passed into the stomach and are then verily digested. Thus, we have established parameters with which to describe the phenomenon of fart eating. So armed, we shall now explore the actual plausibility of fart eating.

First and foremost, one must pose the question of how one actually would go about the eating of a fart, as stated in my thesis. Is it possible to actually consume a gas as one does a solid? Generally, the consumption of solid matter is referred to as eating. However, the consumption of liquid matter is referred to as drinking. Should we then invent a brand new term for the consumption of a gas? Some may interject at this point... but we already have a term which describes the consumption of gas! It's called breathing, or inhaling! And then they would stand unabashed and prideful, bathing in their own self assurance that this dilemma has be well and truly quashed. However, I must now shatter that self assurance with the cold, hard hammer of logic, as I will now elucidate. It has already been determined that breathing or inhaling vapors does NOT constitute genuine consumption, as the majority of said vapors are bound for the lungs, NOT the stomach and intestinal system. So for now, we shall continue under the precept that farts are imminently edible, and no new terms must be invented to describe the process of consumption. However, we will leave this possibility open for later discussion.

Secondly, one might then determine that if we cannot immediately consume a fart in its natural gaseous state, couldn't we somehow compress the fart into a solid? After all, a fart is merely a collection of molecules, comprised of base atoms, which instead of standing immobile against one another are freely bouncing off of each other in a chaotic fashion. Should it not be possible then to organize these molecules into a coherent and solid structure? One must invoke some basic physical properties in order to pursue this line of thought. Let us consider the system of thermodynamics, which describes the movement of energy and how energy instills movement. Since a fart is comprised of relatively fast moving atoms (as are all gases), the friction caused by this movement naturally generates heat energy. After all, a fart is imminently warm upon immediate expulsion from the sphincter diaphragm, a fact which is easily demonstrable by anyone with a moderate case of digestive effluvium. Now... if we were to slow down this movement using some as yet undeveloped technological process and compress the actual fart atoms into a stable, solid structure (bypassing the liquid phase completely, a process known as reverse sublimation), we would thusly wind up with a superdense collection of frigid fart molecules. Hardly an edible sample, as a simple teaspoon of distilled solid fart would weigh several tons and would flash freeze your tongue upon contact. This is assuming that somehow an unstable mass of solidified fart molecules were able to retain a coherent structure without flying apart with the explosive force of several hundred tons of TNT. Besides, the point is moot because we currently lack the required technology. We must consider another avenue.

Thirdly. What about forcing a fart down the throat and immediately into the stomach via some pneumatic device? While this could, in theory, result in the deposition of the majority of fart molecules into the stomach, could one actually define this as eating? Consider. When an invalid is being force-fed with a tube, can it really be said that the invalid is engaging actively in the process of eating? Based on the parameters which we defined earlier, in order for a fart to be eaten, active swallowing (voluntary muscular contraction) must occur. When air is forced artificially into the stomach, the swallowing process is completely bypassed. Although it would be plausible to consider the pneumatically aided consumption of farts as 'fart force feeding', we could not use this process as a method for bona fide fart eating.

Finally, let us consider the origin of the fart. What is a fart? Effectively, it is fecal matter in gaseous form. Tiny little molecules of feces which are floating around, bouncing off of each other and other various air molecules. It may not be pleasant to contemplate, but the process of smelling a fart is the simple inhalation of pure, unrefined solid human waste. But wait, didn't we just describe the inherent difficulties of the conversion of a fart into a sold structure? And considering the futility of such an attempt, how is it then that a fart might at some point be solid? Simply. First, a fart is the result of the slow sublimation of feces (sublimation being the direct conversion of a solid, without a liquid interim, into a gas). Secondly, as we demonstrated earlier, because of the fundamental properties of thermal dynamics, a fast moving collection of fart molecules can only be rendered back into a solid form through the process of reverse sublimation. It takes far more energy to reverse the effects of entropy (the natural process through which an orderly collection of organic molecules matter loses it’s cohesion, resulting in a more chaotic state) than to invoke an artificial state of order (reorganizing chaotic particles into a cohesive whole). Thus, the reorganization of a fart back into its corporeal fecal form would require the harnessing of vast amounts of energy. Currently, these required energy levels can only be produced in the Large Hadron Collider by slamming atoms of gold together at 99.999 % of the speed of light. However, in order to accelerate actual fecal molecules to that speed, one would need a particle accelerator with a diameter equal to the orbit of Pluto.

In conclusion, we are left with what seems at first to be an extremely undesirable yet unavoidable denouement - that fart eating might only be possible by the direct consumption of solid feces. In this manner, as the pre-digested material passes once more through the intestinal tract, it may once again sublimate into gaseous form. Although somewhat of an indirect method, it will result in the eventual deposition of farts in the digestive system, which was the intended result. Luckily, such an extremely unpleasant and unpalatable method is completely unnecessary. By applying the simple logic which was just so unpleasantly demonstrated, we can now conclude that the consumption of any type of food, especially beans and broccoli, can be construed as fart eating, since the inevitable result is that such food will eventually, through the process of digestion, become a fart or farts. We can now safely refer to all edible material as farts, and the act of eating can now be referred to as farting.

Confusion

The other night, I woke up in the middle of the night. I was on my side, and there was a red light blinking off and on in the pitch black. A full minute must have passed during which I was completely oblivious as to who I was, where I was, what was going on, WHAT I was, why it was so dark, what that flashing red light was, and to top it off, I didn't seem to give two flying farts, either. All capacity for cogent thought seemed to have fled during that time. It was as if I had lost all higher brain functions and simply existed with the awareness of an animal. Saying that I didn't know 'why' all of this was going on is a gross overstatement. Why didn't matter, since I didn't seem to posses the ability to question anything anyway. There wasn't any fear, or concern, or anything. Kind of like a video camera set to record and being fed onto a blank tape.

So as I said, I just 'lie' there or 'lied' there or whatever for a while, about a minute, and then I started to 'come back' I guess. This was characterized by an immediate onset of extreme panic. I sat up and looked around in the pitch dark. Most people have probably experienced this, waking up and not knowing where they are for a second. It was kind of like that once I 'came to'. Eventually I finally figured out who I was and that I was in bed at my moms and that I was house sitting for her while she's in California. I reclined my body again and thought about how weird this was.

I wonder how often that happens to people. Its definitely never happened to me before. I've woken up confused before, but never like that, where I have forgotten everything about everything including myself. I told my mom about it and she said I was probably still asleep until I actually snapped out of it. I don't think so, it wasn't like being asleep, it was exactly how I described it.

That dog again

Last night I actually trained the dog a little. I learned it how to 'come ere' and 'stay' and 'don't piss on the damn rug!'. To a limited extent anyway. I have decided that the dog isn't retarded, its just a big fuckin fraidy cat. Excuse my language. Its so scared of everything that its behavior is easily mistaken for that of a common retard. Now, that isn't to say that the dog isn't defective. It definitely is. HE is, I mean. Rooney, that is. He's defective all right, a dog should not be scared shitless of a vacuum cleaner that isn't even turned on... and he's never even been around a turned on vacuum cleaner. Case in point:

Last night, I was taking the dog for his nightly drag. Somebody had left a vacuum cleaner on the side of the road... you know, 'free vacuum', kind of like ' free couch' or 'free ottoman' or any other myriad of free things that people don't want anymore so they just make it available to the general public by putting it on the side of the road. I've done it, you've done it, everybody has done it... anyway, I digress. I approach the vacuum to inspect it. Not that I'll actually be able to tell a damn thing about it, its not like there's a power outlet in the sidewalk. I'm curious anyway though, and as I approach the vacuum, Rooney proceeds to go apeshit. I have to use both hands to hold onto the leash and I can't inspect the vacuum, so I tie the leash around my waist so my hands are free. Walking towards the vacuum thus encumbered is like walking into a 100 mph gale. I can actually lean forward at almost a 45 degree angle without falling over because Rooney is pulling with all his might in the opposite direction, anything to keep himself away from that horrible terrifying life threatening vacuum cleaner. He's going more apeshit than I've ever seen him go. His head is thrashing around back and forth and in circles, trying to rid himself of the leash. He is jumping up and being stopped in midair by the leash attached to his collar of course, which results in his body being spun in crazy mid-air directions, with him landing heavily on his side, back, stomach, sometimes his feet if he's lucky. His legs are constantly moving at full speed like out of control pinwheels... it’s like watching a dog on an invisible treadmill, except the treadmill is constantly being moved up, down, left right, upside down, and sideways. His eyes are rolled up in his head and slobber is flying from his jowls in long stringy threads. He is making wheezing and gurgling sounds... I've never actually heard the gurgling sounds before. It’s like he's trying to whine, I think, but he's cutting off his own air supply by struggling and it comes out as this dry, gurgling rasping throaty sound. I would think that the possibility of choking to death just might supersede the terror, but no. He will happily choke to death if it means not getting any closer to that damn vacuum.

However, I am the master and he's the stupid dog so I'm not going to let his antics deter me. I take my time inspecting that vacuum cleaner inside out and upside down. I pull out the hoses, check for leaks, turn it over and check for tangled string on the rollers, pull out the bag, anything I can do to make this last for as long as possible. Some people might think this is cruel, but that dog is bringing all of this on himself. If he would just calm the hell down and walk up to the vacuum like a normal dog and sniff it, everything would be kosher. Finally I'm actually starting to get tired with Rooney pulling on me constantly and I've decided that the vacuum is pretty much tip top... except that it probably doesn't work. Thus ends Rooney's mortal terror.

Later on I tried to train him somewhat. He is actually starting to kind of learn how NOT to be a permanent fixture on the couch. I succeeded last night in getting him to come to me when I called. He actually jumped off of the couch and trotted over to me of his own free will. Then he pissed on the rug. I had to punish him, which pretty much negated all of the kudos I had been giving him for being a good dog.

That dog

I have a dog. It is retarded. It is a cat in a dogs body, I think. This dog will not come to you when you call it. If not moved physically, it will languish on the couch all day long. It will not approach its food or water until everyone is asleep and it is alone. I hear it lapping water and munching dog food late at night. When it is necessary to move the dog, that is... to take it outside so it can do its doodie, one must physically drag the dog to the door. Either that, or pick up the dog and carry it. When I say drag, I mean the dog is almost choking to death because I'm pulling on its collar and it is doing everything in its power to go in the opposite direction to the one I am going. When I put a leash on his collar, the dog shakes as if it is mortally terrified. I take the dog for a walk every night. I have to drag the dog during half of the walk. Even when the dog is actually walking and not being dragged, it is constantly trying to move in the direction of the house. He knows this direction even after we have made several turns on several streets. It is as if the dog is a compass needle, and the house is true north. Once my foot accidentally banged into a dumpster. The dog acted as if it were in imminent peril. It went completely ape shit (because of the noise of my foot hitting the side of the dumpster) and struggled mightily to get away. It ran between my legs. It ran the other way. It ran in circles. Finally its collar came off and off that dog shot, like a bat out of hell. I ran for about a hundred feet and then said F this, I'll just go home. And sure enough that's where the dog went (the dog's name is Rooney by the way). I tightened his collar and took him back out. I passed the same dumpster and kicked again lightly to see the dogs reaction. It was the same... mortal terror. At one point during the walk, I was on Hickory, right before Fry St. A guy was standing outside one of the shops, smoking a cigarette, and he saw me dragging this dog down the sidewalk. As we passed him, he remarked: "That dog won't hunt." I thought this was hilarious. No, that dog definitely won't hunt.

The other day

You guys remember how the other day started out so awesomely? Well it didn't stay that way. The rest of it sucked. Actually, none of that day was awesome. I was just thinking that maybe if I posted that it was, that possibly I would believe it. You know, the idea that all realities actually exist as 'reality dust' in a 'configuration space', that all moments actually exist as static shapes and that time is an illusion that is only viable when measuring the distances between any two particular particles of 'reality dust'. I thought that maybe if I invented a perfect day and 'willed' it to be true, that I just might find those elusive dust particles that constituted the perfect day based on mundane banality.

It didn't work.

Wow!

Wow, I simply cannot believe how awesome today has been so far. First I woke up. Then I got dressed and drank some peach tea or something. After that, I drove from Dallas to Denton. Then I cut up and boiled a chicken, which is now in the process of cooling. Then I fucked around the house for a bit.

I can't wait to see what the rest of the day has in store!

Work?

Can you believe this shit? I'm actually looking for a job. I don't go on the road again until November, and until then the rent is due or something. Plus I don't have any money for books. So here I am, all spiffed up and looking pretty damn awesome. Where to work, where to work... hmmm. I'll get back to me on that one.

I guess since I'm out of books I'll listen to some music.

Yay

Ok, I finished Heavens Reach. I found three dollars in an old ass spiral notebook
that I used to use for high school English class! Whoo fuckin hoo.

I need a new book. I don't have money for a new book. I am having to re-read old
books. This sucks.

Do things actually happen in other people's lives?