Pull My Finger

It is said that potty humor is the oldest form of humor because everyone does it. This is true. Unless you're female. We just don't talk about such things.

But we should! Men get to have all the fun. A guy can walk into a room and, with no preface or segue of any kind, announce something like, "I just dropped a deuce he size of a gopher."

His mates will then respond in many predictable ways. There will be congratulations, a polite golf clap, an empathetic "been there, done that." Someone will offer him a beer. And all will be well. No one will be offended. Men somehow fully grasp the idea that, yes, shit happens. And so do farts.

But let's say a woman walks into her Jane Austin Study Club meeting and, with no preface or segue of any kind, announces, "I just dropped a deuce he size of a gopher." Can you imagine the results? Gasps of horror. Chastisement. It's possible that an extremely elderly member of the group, whose "I shouldn't say that" switch has long been broken, might inquire about the consistency and recommend a good doctor. But our friend would not be invited back. Her children would be labeled "undesirable," and the JASC meeting will be mysteriously relocated to an undisclosed venue.

It's yet another thing that separates the sexes and yet another weakness of the female. It is great source of amusement to me that if any male, be he three years old or 73, can fart and trap you under the covers with it, that will be the funniest thing that happened today.