By Jim Dawson
Do you know that James Joyce cherished to sniff his wife'¬?s farts? That a few fish speak via expelling gasoline? Or that the Pentagon is constructing guns of mass olfactory destruction (WMOD)? That'¬?s only a whiff of what's in shop during this breathtaking follow-up to the best-selling fart historical past, WHO lower THE CHEESE?In BLAME IT at the puppy, eminent fartologist Jim Dawson sniffs out the most recent and maximum new goods of the earlier century, from flatulent robotic canine and fart fetishists to poot-proof lingerie and anti-stink tablets. In fifty breezy chapters, he spills the beans approximately medical (wind)breakthroughs, star butt rumblings, and real-life fartistes like Flatulina Fontanelle Boutier, our on-line world entertainer the Queen of Farts, and Mr. Methane, England'¬?s Prince of Poots. Plumbing the nether areas of politics, popular culture, and the (f)arts, this stinker a WC publication will depart you gasping for air.
From the alternate Paperback edition.
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Extra resources for Blame It on the Dog: A Modern History of the Fart
Junior found some nice chicken salad and a loaf of bread, a few carrot sticks, some potato chips, and some chocolate milk. Hey, may as well put it on a tray, kick back, and catch a little TV. So that’s just what Junior did. He carried the tray to the nightstand next to the bed, climbed in, clicked on the tube, and ate his lunch. But after all that hard work and that good meal, the bed was just too comfortable. The sandman came a-callin’ on Junior, and soon he was out like a light. Meanwhile, Loretta Davin had arrived at her office and learned that her business trip had been postponed.
But the dog was relentless. Over and over it pointed its nose toward the tourist and kept sniffing and whining and sniffing. It was almost as though the dog itself was puzzled. The officer finally conceded that something was awry. “I’m sorry, sir,” he told the rotund tourist. ” It was a task that neither man was looking forward to. But it had to be done. Once inside the room, the tourist was ordered to disrobe, and a complete body search was initiated. It was then that a plastic bag containing eleven ounces of a white powdery substance was discovered—discreetly hidden amid the many folds of the man’s tremendous stomach!
So that’s just what Junior did. He carried the tray to the nightstand next to the bed, climbed in, clicked on the tube, and ate his lunch. But after all that hard work and that good meal, the bed was just too comfortable. The sandman came a-callin’ on Junior, and soon he was out like a light. Meanwhile, Loretta Davin had arrived at her office and learned that her business trip had been postponed. After being gone only three hours instead of three days, she returned home to find her side door broken open.