Fart Blog

I remain fundamentally dissatisfied with Howard Stern’s performance as Fartman in Private Parts. “The movie opens with a depiction of Stern (yes, he plays himself) making an ass of himself as “Fartman” at the MTV Video Music Awards and then wandering backstage afterward where such comparably high-minded performers as Ozzy Osbourne and Flavor Flav (yes, they play themselves) snigger derisively.” My sense of what Fartman should have been comes from National Lampoon, where the Fartman character was conflicted and plagued (to the point of paralysis) by the eternal question “What shall I do with my super powers?”. Stern was vulgar, sophomoric, but… least excusably, he was simple. He failed to imbue his Fartman with the awesome terror that we discover as children when we’re being potty trained. Farts are the direct vocalization of all that presses from within us trying to get out. As Freud explained, when we are expected as infants to control our bowels we are being prepared for the more-or-less continuous suppression of impulse throughout adulthood. The resonance of farts and farting in this context is obvious. To fart is to negate suppression. To fart is to say “No!” to the restrictive pressures of society. Rightly, Fartman should have been an amplification of the same power we first exercised as toddlers when we did not use the toilet, when we persisted in going in our pants. Even after we are grown, the fart retains some of that power. Farting is expressive. But the message is shockingly uncomplicated. Hence our great shame when we indulge. Hence our great exultation. If I were writing a cinematic exploit for Fartman, I would have him command the attention of the entire planet with a thunderous burst, then subdue the nations with the lyrical music of the beans.