Pat Brothwell on you why smart, cultured and sophisticated people can still enjoy a good fart joke.
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I grew up thinking that toilet humor was universal. Poop, farts and burps were the cornerstone of comedy in elementary school for sure, remained a steadfast source of laughs during high school and were referenced often during college. But like so many other things, once one is expelled from the bowels of college and becomes a real adult, expectations shift. Four years ago I was proctoring the PSSA’s, Pennsylvania’s former state school assessment, to a group of tenth grade students. The importance (Or “importance”) of these tests has been hammered into the kids. They take it seriously and the silence is in the testing rooms is acute. It was during one such acute silence that an unknown assailant passed some gas that boomed across the room. You know what happened? Nothing. The kids kept diligently soldiering on. You know what I did? I lost it. Professionalism kept me from laughing aloud, but any student who picked their head up and observed would have witnessed me turning beet red, my entire body convulsing with pent in laughter and tears streaming down my face. I told a few colleagues about my experience and their reactions were a mixture of ambivalence and please-grow-up disdain. The consensus seemed to be that toilet humor was juvenile at best and offensive at worst. Maybe, I’ll grow out of it, I thought. I haven’t. Five years later burps, farts or any sort of mishap involving fecal matter are still funny to me. What’s changed is that I no longer think this is a phase and I don’t think it’s something that will or should be thrown to the wayside just because I’m now a proper adult and there’s a sect out there that says toilet humor is juvenile and lowbrow and only enjoyed by those with immature, unsophisticated and unintelligent tastes and because I proudly admit that all of those words could be used to describe me at some point, I’m here to defend it, because I also think that mature, sophisticated and intelligent could be used to describe me in other regards. And I’m not trying to convince you that you need to find bodily functions funny. Different strokes for different folks right? I am simply trying to convince you that toilet humor should not be out rightly dismissed as something only frat-gays and Neanderthals find amusing and because I thought you might need a somewhat structured rationale, I’ve come up with a bullet proof three point theory consisting of the following points:
- Relatability
- Amy Poehler
- Mindlessness
Allow me to expound:
Exhibit A: Relatability
Everybody poops. I believe there’s even an award winning children’s book of the same name. Everybody also passes gas and let’s just get this out of the way now: if you’re one of those girls who claim to neither poop nor fart, stop lying now. You don’t have to publicize or even acknowledge your bodily functions, but don’t claim to be some biological miracle. These are facts of life and one of the few completely mortifying and humiliating aspects of said life that we all have in common. Does it fascinate no one else that despite who you are, no matter your background, your education, your religion or social stature, that we’re all capable of producing these repulsive (some admittedly more repulsive than others) acts? Your gross neighbor with the perennially visible ass crack farts all day. So does Queen Elizabeth. I find it quite comfortable actually and think that half the reason people laugh so hard at toilet humor is that, on some level it’s a common shame and humiliation. I’m going to share a story with you that I know I’m going to regret the second that this is published but which I believe helps to illustrate my point and in a very gruesome and extremely unflattering manner. Two years ago I was struck with a severe case of mono. I was still undiagnosed when I was supposed to drive to Pittsburgh, four hours from my home base in Lancaster, for my cousin’s 21st birthday. This weekend had literally been planned for years and I’d previously taken a personal day that Monday and scored tickets to take him to a Penguins game Sunday night. There was no way a little sickness was going to get in my way and despite the revolts my body was going through, I got into the car after work and set off. The normally four hour car ride was an excruciating exercise of hot flashes, sweats, and emergency bathroom breaks. Mono doesn’t play around. To make the day that much better, there was something of a small blizzard going on, which meant that a lot of my bathroom breaks (I was drinking a lot of Gatorade to appease the dehydration) were side of the road affairs. It was during one of these routine stops to piss where my stomach made a familiar sound and before I knew it, my pants were at my ankles and I was squatting over a freshly fallen snowbank that would not be white and pristine when I was done with it. If taking a number two on the side of the PA Turnpike in a blizzard wasn’t humiliating enough, I was close enough to the road for passersby to witness the carnage. I’m not just imagining this. There were honks to prove it. The sickest part? I almost immediately afterwards mass texted my friends what happened and called my brother and cousin, who were also on their way to Pittsburgh. Everyone was appropriately disgusted with my candor at the time. Unfortunately it’s become something of a go-to, the type of story where my friends will say in front of new people, “Tell them about when you shit on the side of the highway,” and since its introduction I’ve learned that if prodded enough, many other people have similar stories. It’s half the reason I told it in the first place (that and I have no shame, obviously). Everyone has a horrific bathroom story. Most just don’t share it with the internet.
Exhibit B: Amy Poehler
I hope nobody here argues with me that Amy Poehler is both funny and smart. She was one of SNL’s leading talents for a number of years, one of only three of the show’s featured players to be promoted to a series regular in her first year and if you haven’t seen her performance as Leslie Knopes on Parks and Recreation, you’re missing out. If you need evidence that she’s smart and empathetic as well as a brilliant comedian, then check out this speech she gave about her work with the Worldwide Orphan Foundation or her Smart Girls At the Party website ). I’m using the example of Amy Poehler because she’s smart, funny, female and has enough clout to hopefully convince you it’s not just Two and Half Men fans and high school freshmen reveling in toilet humor. Amy employs it frequently in her performances. Her most memorable SNL character for me, was Amber, a one legged stripper, who doesn’t have a heart of gold, competes in any reality show she can get her grubby mitts on and always farts when she hops away, uttering, “yeah, I farted.” Her film Baby Mama involves a grown woman peeing in a sink and on a recent episode of Parks and Recreation, one of the characters suffers from a “fart attack,” a heart attack/fart fit combo. If Amy Poehler isn’t above toilet humor, neither are you.
Exhibit C: There is no thinking involved
You know what’s great about toilet humor? It’s mostly audio-visually based, so you don’t have to think about it that much. There’s no punchline, no clever satire and one doesn’t have to necessarily follow along in order to be rewarded with a good laugh. I don’t know about you, but as someone who does frequently have to use their brain for a good majority of the day, I could get behind that. It’s mindless, stupid entertainment, which is why I get particularly incensed when someone who “unwinds” with any combination of a Kardashian, millionaire duck call producer or assorted “real” housewives considers themselves above a little toilet humor. So there’s my case, why toilet humor should and can be used and laughed at by cultured adult humans with my own sophisticated trinity of relatability, mindlessness and Amy Poehler stamp of approval as a rationale.
—modified photo Jean-Marc Bolfing / Flickr Creative Commons
The Gentlemen’s Room at Chisick Station
Old Tipping-Roots
was ripping toots
while Futting-Carts
was poohing
the dining arts
with shining fruits
that fueled
old Roots’ undoing.
And Etting-Laires
was getting stares
for rueing,
air-a-blueing,
the cursed poots
of Carts and Roots
all pooled
in washroom brewing.
Each of these gents’
unique offense
befouled where all
were loo-ing.
(And never mind
whatever kind
that Pitting-Shoops
was doing.)
~ Mr. Weaking-Brind