I'll give somebody $10 if they can identify the target word of the tidbit above...the word that should reach out and smack ya slap dab in the middle of the face is...CLOCKED...having some insight into how speeds are calculated for different objects...it is impossible to CLOCK the speed of a fart...in order to CLOCK the speed of an object in travel you need one of two things...an ODOMETER or a TACHOMETER and relative knowledge of how many RPM's should register on the dial in conjunction with which gear you are in in order to attain the desired speed...if you are outside of the vehicle you need a RADAR unit properly calibrated and pointing in the correct position...radio waves are emitted which bounce off of the solid surface of the object...METAL in most cases...which, unless you have a high level of iron in your blood, is absent from a FART...for wind borne objects...such as a FART...an entirely different calculation is required that doesn't involve CLOCKING the event in order to calculate a relative SPEED...that being said...I also have personal knowledge of evacuation speeds for humans trapped in an enclosed area who might be suffering from AAA...(Acrid Anal Aroma)...I've actually witnessed this first hand...and lemme tell you...there is NO funnier event in human history than watching the eyes water of those around you when you float an air bizkit without warning...if ya catch the right kinda person while they are in full yawn...ya might even create a gag reflex that is reminiscent of the EXORCIST...hell even if this little tidbit were true...it leaves so much information a mystery...such as the relative escape speed of the people in the immediate area...If the fart travels at ten feet per second...then people must be capable of Mercury...Messenger of the gods...like speed...because I've seen them bounce off walls in confusion trying to get away from unfabulous flatulence...I've seen Mother's abandon their babies and flee for their own safety...I've seen grown men cower in the corner in a fetal position...holdin' their breath until their face turns blue and their eyeballs attempt to leave their sockets...and that was when it wasn't me tossin' the low flyin' turd tater...I hate to point fingers at myself...but there isn't a single member of my Family...immediate or extended...that couldn't walk bare naked through a field full of mustard gas and come out unscathed...those poor people suffered plenty when they lived under the same roof or were unfortunate enough to be in the same room or vehicle...I mean you know it's bad when you're sittin out to sea on your surfboard in the middle of a hurricane and the guy halfway down the beach decides to stick his head underwater...or when ya go and visit a family members house...sit down in their favorite chair and let one rip...that just seems to soak into the fabric...it's even worse when ya go back three years later and every time an ass hits the seat of that chair a rancid reminder encircles your head...have one of them tell ya the Smithsonian/Hope Diamond story...I hafta be the only person on this planet that has completely cleared out a room of the Smithsonian...where the Hope Diamond was currently on display...and when I say completely...I mean everyone and everything...they donned gas masks and removed the jewels it was so bad...only the few...the daring and the brave entered that room the rest of the day...and that was just a TEASPOON fart...those people floodin' past Momma at the door like they were runnin' from HIROSHIMA...that particular little wayward wind traveled at a speed so amazing...it had tachyons tremblin' over losing their claim to fame as being the fastest thing known to man...it completely encompassed and clouded at least 2700 cubic feet in just over a second...those aren't even the best ones either...the best ones are when they make people's faces get that distant look...as if they're waiting on something...ya know...that look men get on their faces when somebody lightly bats the boys just right...that expression just after the event...where they stand there lookin' like they're NOT sure just how bad this one might hurt...that look...and then it morphs into that magical nose crinklin...face scrunchin' expression of pure pain...they wriggle their noses around like that's gonna get rid of the smell...but by hen it's TOO late...they've already taken that FATAL second gasp of the AAAA...(Amplified Acrid Anal Aroma)...and it has completely coated the mucous membranes of their nasal passages with the putrid pants puffer...they gag...spit...hack...to NO avail...once that hits the back of your throat...it's all over...you can walk outta one of those events thinkin ya just ate sh*t off a stick...I don't wanna brag or anything...but I'd be willin' to bet that given the right circumstances...I could get more crippled people to walk than the best televangelist...ya wanna see people walk on water...trap me in a boat with them...they'll hit shore carryin' loaves and fishes just to get away from that aquatic area of anal escapations...let's put it this way...if this little tidbit is true...I'll give ya a five second head start...we'll see who's faster!!!
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