Your Daily Boondocks via
1.18.2005
Everybody Loves A Fart Joke
From the "an(n)als" of the 2 blowhards
The Fartiste
Michael Blowhard writes:
Dear Blowhards --
Have you ever run across the 19th century French music-hall star Joseph Pujol? He was quite a phenonemon, a huge star who was known as "le petomane," or "the fartiste." That's right: Pujol was a specialty act, and virtuoso farting was his specialty. He had a long and busy career, and performed his act all over France. He had his greatest success at the Moulin Rouge, where he outgrossed (if that's the right word) the legendary actress Sarah Bernhardt.
Here's a description of Pujol's opening night at the Moulin Rouge:
Then Le Petomane performed some imitations, using the simple, honest format of announcing and then demonstrating. He displayed his wide sonic range with tenor, baritone, and bass fart sounds. He imitated the farts of a little girl, a mother-in-law, a bride on her wedding night (tiny), the same bride the day after (loud), and a mason (dry-- "no cement"). He imitated thunder, cannons ("Gunners stand by your guns! Ready-- fire!!"), and even the sound of a dressmaker tearing two yards of calico (a full 10-second rip). After the imitations, Le Petomane popped backstage to put one end of a yard-long rubber tube into his anus. He returned and smoked a cigarette from this tube, after which he used it to play a couple of tunes on a song flute. For his finale he removed the rubber tube, blew out some of the gas-jet footlights from a safe distance away, and then led the audience in a rousing sing- along.
Here's one account of Pujol; here's another; here's a third. Those funky Frenchies: Marseilles even commemorates its native son with a "Rue Pujol."
All this reminds me of a passage in Jean Renoir's biography of his painter father. (A wonderful book, by the way.) Jean, who spent many childhood hours hanging around his father's bohemian models -- lucky boy -- wrote that one thing he recalled about the bedrooms of these legendary 19th century love goddesses was that they often smelled of full chamber pots.
Best,
Michael
The Fartiste
Michael Blowhard writes:
Dear Blowhards --
Have you ever run across the 19th century French music-hall star Joseph Pujol? He was quite a phenonemon, a huge star who was known as "le petomane," or "the fartiste." That's right: Pujol was a specialty act, and virtuoso farting was his specialty. He had a long and busy career, and performed his act all over France. He had his greatest success at the Moulin Rouge, where he outgrossed (if that's the right word) the legendary actress Sarah Bernhardt.
Here's a description of Pujol's opening night at the Moulin Rouge:
Then Le Petomane performed some imitations, using the simple, honest format of announcing and then demonstrating. He displayed his wide sonic range with tenor, baritone, and bass fart sounds. He imitated the farts of a little girl, a mother-in-law, a bride on her wedding night (tiny), the same bride the day after (loud), and a mason (dry-- "no cement"). He imitated thunder, cannons ("Gunners stand by your guns! Ready-- fire!!"), and even the sound of a dressmaker tearing two yards of calico (a full 10-second rip). After the imitations, Le Petomane popped backstage to put one end of a yard-long rubber tube into his anus. He returned and smoked a cigarette from this tube, after which he used it to play a couple of tunes on a song flute. For his finale he removed the rubber tube, blew out some of the gas-jet footlights from a safe distance away, and then led the audience in a rousing sing- along.
Here's one account of Pujol; here's another; here's a third. Those funky Frenchies: Marseilles even commemorates its native son with a "Rue Pujol."
All this reminds me of a passage in Jean Renoir's biography of his painter father. (A wonderful book, by the way.) Jean, who spent many childhood hours hanging around his father's bohemian models -- lucky boy -- wrote that one thing he recalled about the bedrooms of these legendary 19th century love goddesses was that they often smelled of full chamber pots.
Best,
Michael
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