I remember the first time I broke wind. I was 23 minutes old. My mother said, “this is my boy, farts are his birthright and namesake”. The first 12 years of my life I contemplated the meaning of flatulence. At age 13 I took myself to live with the silent monistary at corinth. Promtly dismissed, I settled with beggars in the streets of mumbai. The deep wisdom that these humble beggars shared cannot be repeated by a person of limited intellect, such as myself. I honed my craft. I farted. I learned.


Most think of farts as a side effect of life. Farts push the shit out, shits push the fart out, NO!
I push the fart out. And let me tell you, …I … fart.


My farts will put your dad’s to SHAME. I have enlightened myself by way of the masters before me. I have molded myself in the image of the fart mistress and king ass ripper.


I am become fart.