The Truth about the Signs
  • Aries:The look on your face will be priceless when you find that forty pound watermelon in your colon. Trade toothbrushes with an albino dwarf, then give a hickey to Meryl Streep.
  • Taurus:You will never find true happiness. What you gonna do, cry about it? The stars predict tomorrow you'll wake up, do a bunch of stuff, and then go back to sleep.
  • Gemini:Your birthday party will be ruined once again by your explosive flatulence. Your love life will run into trouble when your fiance hurls a javelin through your chest.
  • Cancer:The position of Jupiter says you should spend the rest of the week face down in the mud. Try not to shove a roll of duct tape up your nose while taking your driver's test.
  • Leo:Now is not a good time to photocopy your butt and staple it to your boss's face. Eat a bucket of tuna-flavored pudding, then wash it down with a gallon of strawberry Quik.
  • Virgo:All Virgos are extremely friendly and intelligent, except for you. Expect a big surprise today when you wind up with your head impaled upon a stick.
  • Libra:A big promotion is just around the corner for someone much more talented that you. Laughter is the very best medicine; remember that when your appendix bursts next week.
  • Scorpio:Get ready for an unexpected trip when you fall screaming from an open window. Work a little harder on improving your low self-esteem, you stupid freak.
  • Sagittarius:All your friends are laughing behind your back. (K̀i͘lĺ ̶t͜h̶e͞m.) Take down all those naked pictures of Ernest Borgnine you've got hanging in your den.
  • Capricorn:The stars say that you're an exciting and wonderful person, but you know they're lying. If I were you, I'd lock my doors and windows and never never never never never leave my house again.
  • Aquarius:There's travel in your future when your tongue freezes to the back of a speeding bus. Fill that void in your pathetic life by playing Whack-A-Mole seventeen hours a day.
  • Pisces:Try to avoid any Virgos or Leos with the ebola virus. You are the true Lord of the Dance, no matter what those idiots at work say.

A British political cartoon depicting John Bull emitting an explosive bout of flatulence at a poster of George III as an outraged William Pitt the Younger (Prime Minister) announces he is a traitor.  The cartoon was created as a reaction to William Pitts threats to suspend habeas corpus the previous month.

Illustrated by Richard Newton, 19th of March, 1798.

anonymous asked:

SJW, you are the best!! The other day a work colleague (yes, a cishetwhiteman) asked me to hang out with him (I am cisqueerPOCwoman). I did, but then he shocked me, by arguing with me about about how feminism doesn't address "male-oppression" and is therefore incomplete/invalid. I exhausted myself trying to explain the problem with his views as best as I could, as gently as possible. Now he wants to hang-out more, but I don't want to, yet I also work with him. Do you have any advice? Thank u!

Here is Wario’s advice: Next time he asks to hang out, just fart as loudly as possible. Consider having burritos for lunch.

The Fart Master — Le Petomane, the Fartiste

In the later half of the 19th century a Frenchman named Joseph Pujol discovered he had a very bizarre talent.  When he contracted and constricted his abdominal muscles he discovered he could intentionally suck air into his rectum.  He could them expel the air resulting in a comical fart.  While today many may look down upon such talent, Pujol’s special ability would make him one of the most famous superstars in Europe.

Pujol first began his act entertaining his fellow soldiers while in the army.  After his military career he began performing in small clubs and saloons while operating a bakery in Mersailles.  In 1887, at the age of 30 Pujol was invited to his first major performance.  At first his talents were met with skepticism and scorn, the performance of a man farting might be seen as bit lowbrow among certain circles, but his fame quickly caught on and he began performing all over France.  By 1892 he became a household name all over France, and was invited to perform regularly at the famous Moulin Rouge music hall were he took the stage name “Le Petomane, The Fartiste”.  At the height of his career he was performing for kings, and made a very handsome 20,000 Francs a week.

A typical performance of Le Petomane would usually start with impersonations, where he would reproduce the fart of a newlywed woman, a large workingman, a timid young girl, a powerful emperor, as well as everyday sound effects.  He would also blow out stage lights, smoke a cigarette through a tube inserted into his rectum, or blow wind so hard it would rustle stage curtains. For his grand finale would insert a flute or ocarina into his bum and play famous songs, such a “O Sole Mio”.  One might ask, wouldn’t Le Petomane be an especially smelly performance?  Mr. Pujol was an expert professional who irrigated his colon daily to prevent such an occurrence.

After performing at the Moulin Rouge for four years, Pujol fell into dispute with the owners and quit.  He founded his own theater company and continued to perform until World War I.  Unfortunately the story of “The Fartiste” ends on a sour note.  During the war his two sons were badly injured in combat and left disabled.  Pujol fell into a deep depression, so much so that he could never perform again.  He retired to the life of baker, passing away in 1945 at the age of 88.



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