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A Sailor Named Phart By Throckmorton J. Trout My father served in the U.S. Navy and once told me a story that I still, to this day, wonder if it is true or not. It involved a fellow sailor who had a rather interesting last name. The sailor's name was "Phart," and whenever they called his name during a formation or otherwise, it never failed to generate a few chuckles through the ranks. My father told me this story while driving somewhere, and it started a larger conversation on the typically silly topic of flatulence. But before this happened, I did have the foresight to ask him at least a few questions "Why didn't he just change his name?" Seemed like a good solution. My father thought about this for a moment, and then replied that it wasn't easy to change what one has accrued over time with one's name and the identity it carries. Besides, he said, Phart took advantage of his name. "How so?" I asked. "Well," my father said, "when people made fun of him, he would try to turn the joke around on them." He went on to explain that Phart would sometimes extend a hand to a jokester and ask him to pull his finger. "If you caught him on a good day," my father continued, "the air around you changed quickly, if you know what I mean?" The conversation then focused on flatulence in general, and let me be the first to admit that the male population on this earth places too much emphasis on the topic. Let's face it, males are absolutely fascinated with this activity, and I wouldn't be surprised if scientists discover a special flatulence gene that men inherit through the ages. The origin of flatulence may provide us with a clue of why it is such a male-dominated activity. Perhaps the ability to release gas and create a noise was linked to the concept of humor around the campfires of old. I can imagine some Neanderthal acting out a story about hunting a wooly mammoth and embellishing key moments of the narrative with how he used flatulence to subdue the beast. Yes, humankind has added flatulence to storytelling for humor even in modern times. Who can forget that scene in the movie "Blazing Saddles" where a bunch of cowboys sit around a campfire and create a symphony of flatulence? In addition, writer Mark Twain relied on flatulence humor in a satirical essay about someone who let one rip in the presence of the Queen of England, causing the queen to say that someone "did break wind, yielding an exceeding mighty and distressful stink..." Then, in trying to find out who had done the deed, the queen questioned one of her ladies in waiting, who denied being the culprit by saying that even though she had the ability to produce a "thundergust," it was not her that did it. It's also plausible that some males in primitive societies had a higher methane content in their flatulence that could assist in starting a fire. This would give the average cave-dweller quite an advantage in the social order of a tribe. It's entirely possible that along with the development of hunters, gatherers, and shamans came the rise of the "flatulator," who was the keeper of the tribe's sacred gas reserve for firestarting. All of these are valid assumptions. What's more, I believe that the popularity of flatulence among the male population has even grown stronger in recent years. For some time now, it seems to have become part of grandfather training to learn and perfect the "pull-my-finger" routine. Of course, there's more to it than you might think. Timing is everything. Mess it up and things could literally blow up in your face. This brings me to yet another point. Women seem to approach the subject and practice of flatulence with much more maturity and dignity. I, for one, have never witnessed a grandmother attempt the "pull-my-finger" trick. I'm sure it's been done, but it definitely would be a rarity. Nor do you ever hear about Girl Scouts sitting around a campfire eating a can of Van Camp's baked beans in hopes of auditioning for the Boston Pops later. My father died a couple of years ago, and along with his passing, so did the story of a sailor named Phart find its end. I'm sure if Phart actually did exist, he would almost certainly have passed away. If that is the case, I can only imagine when he was brought forth to the almighty that God himself would wink and extend a hand before saying: "So, you're the sailor named Phart, eh? Go ahead, my son... pull my finger!" This story was posted on 2023-02-20 18:45:28
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