Apparently an embarrassing letter in your permanent file (up to one year).  This is the kind of story that the FFP was built for.  A Social Security Administration worker was formally reprimanded but his superiors for “excessive flatulence”.  I have no idea who tips off The Smoking Gun with these juicy government tidbits, but thank god for it.  I really can’t top what they wrote, they kind of hit all the classic fart notes.

What I will say is that I hate this guy.  Worst Cube-mate ever.  I would LOVE to be able to fart at work, without any sort of shame or self-consciousness.  That is like a Zen place.  “Break the wind that rustles the leaves, and blows over the oceans”.  Let me tell you a true story that scarred me for life:

Philosophy class.  Freshman year of college, year unimportant.  About half-way through the semester, at least I think, since I had a level of comfort, (almost said comfart) that only comes with repeated exposure to a useless college credit.  Lil Funk was sitting in the front row, and I remember this because there were 3 cute girls sitting right behind me.  With a 101 class entitled “Intro to Philosophy”, as a professor you can pretty much teach whatever you want.  This lunatic was no exception.  Needless to say, I was more often bored than engaged.  I should also mention that this kook had to be in his late 60’s, had “The Einstein”, and always wore florescent green wrestling shoes with a suit.  Thank GOD (if there is one.  After that class I always get confused what I believe) that look didn’t catch on.  That’s the scene.

So as to be expected, I start dozing off a little.  I had this way of holding my head so I looked like I was paying attention, but let me be clear, I was not.  I settle into a comfortable nap, my muscles relax, and it’s off to dreamland for the next 45 minutes.  Or so I thought.  Apparently I had a bullet in the chamber, and I relaxed just a taaaaad too much.  *FRRRRUUUUUPPPP*  I f%$^#ing farted in class.  Let me repeat:  I F%$^#ing FARTED IN CLASS.  This was like a neon sign, a self-aware siren that was screaming in my skull.  Here is the amazing thing:  I was immediately awake.  Like I shifted from a sound slumber to “Holy crap why is there a dead body in my living room” stone cold  sober in .0022 seconds (approximately).  My brain panicked, and I was in Damage Control mode.  What could I do?  Everyone in the room had heard it.  The sound reverberated off the walls for what felt hours, and the giggling, OH THE GIGGLING!  I can’t get the satisfied sounds of those cackling crones out of my head.  They just laughed and laughed, apparently not sensitive to the fact that my face was so red, the Prof thought I was severely intoxicated.  At that moment I was not.  At that moment…..I was not.  I knew couldn’t very well kill EVERYONE in class.  Plus the incriminating odor was growing exponentially by the second, with the potential to not only curl hair and peel paint, but to forever tarnish reputations.  So I did what any freshman would do in my situation:  I pretended it was someone else.  I looked over at the person next to me and gave a disgusted “Can you believe this friggin’ guy?” look.  I  even pulled my shirt over my nose and fanned the air for emphasis.

No one bought it.

So in closing, I would like to say that I hate this SSA worker, because he is all the things I am not.  I hate him, but I admire him as well.

Oh and Sir, you might want to be careful who you piss off.  You do know your upper management are in possession of 174k rounds of Hollow point bullets right?  Juuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuust sayin’.