Nobel Peace Prize Material

So I drank a bit too much last night, in an effort to drown my sorrows of losing the Coed Softball League Championship game (to a bunch of cheaters, no less). As happens many times when I drink too much (okay, we’re talking about three beers), the next morning I wake up with a condition where certain air is under extreme pressure in a confined space.

This morning, Enzo was up early (4:30 or 5), and so we both crashed on the couch and put on some Curious George to pass the time. When the air in question produced a distinct audible noise, Enzo laughed hysterically, and yelled ‘Do it again!’. It was one of those tender parent-child moments that Kodak just can’t capture.

Which leads me to my scientific conclusion: farts are funny. Period. They transcend racial, ethnic, and age barriers (although they have a bit of trouble with that pesky maturity barrier). No other element can do that. As such, I believe that farts are the key to world peace. At least, that’s my excuse when Sal catches me doing it.