Boy, Those Movies Are A Gas, Aren't They.

Did you just toot?

Who would have ever predicted the popularity of first the book series and now the movie series based on the deep, dark, mysterious world of rippers. Yes, rippers. I'm speaking, of course, about Fartfright.

Of course the whole genre began with Bram Stoker's skunk-bait masterpiece Diarrhea written back in 1897. Francis Fart Coppola directed a four star film version of the classic in 1992.

Keefer Sutherland and the two Coreys starred in the ripper cult classic in 1987 called The Lost Farts.

And of course who could forget Tom Poohs and Brad Shit in 1994s Interview With the Crop Duster.

But let's return to the current popularity of ripper films. Four films in four years, each more popular than the last. The festival of flatulence began with the movie Fartfright in 2008. A tale of star-struck lovers condemned to immortality because they fart in each other's general direction.

Then came the sequel, The Fartfright Saga: Chuck a Moon in 2009.

In 2010, The Fartfright Saga: He Lets One Slip landed in theatres.

And the latest in the franchise, The Fartfright Saga: Breaking Wind wafted it's way to theatre-goers earlier this year.

Who would have thought a subject matter based on cutting cheese, pulling fingers, dutch ovens and silent-but-deadlies would ignite movie fans. Speaking of which, each tale also has it's share of inflammatory scenes involving blue angels and fart flaming.

The next film in the series is scheduled for release sometime next year and it's called The Fartfright Saga: Love in a Dutch Oven. Here's a short scene...

When asked to account for the popularity of the ripper books and films, author Stephenie Meyer shrugged her shoulders, lifted one leg and said, "I really can't say. If truth be told I really just pulled it right out of my ass."

What a shame Smell-O-Vision never caught on.

Disclaimer: Any comparison to the wildly popular Twilight films was purely intentional.

The Polka Dot Door

A long time ago, when I was 22, my first child was born. That kid grew up on a little Canadian kid's show called Polka Dot Door, produced by the TV Ontario network. And Dad, more often than not, sat through those shows with his little one. Nine or so years later when a brother, and a year after that when a sister came along number one son was moving on to Knight Rider and The Dukes of Hazzard. But there was a nice overlap where his siblings picked up where he had left off with Polka Dot Door. And Dad was right there to welcome them. So you're looking at a Polka Dot Door veteran. The show began in 1971 and ran to 1993. I didn't watch the full run but I did get in my fair share. The formula was pretty simple. A young male and female host, which seemed to change every week, sang songs, told stories, made crafts and generally did their best stimulate little brains. The show opened as follows... Imagination Day! Oh boy! ...

Hello Goodbye

Today a bit of a reflective piece. Rather than being funny, this is about the funny. It's a day of mixed emotion at nonamedufus . You see, after several months of inactivity I've dropped a couple of former blogger buddies off my blog roll. I kept hanging on and hanging on hoping they'd return to active blogging but, alas, after waiting in one case five months I've decided to let them go. I'm going to miss - going to? I have been missing - Margo at the Screaming Me-Me . She was one funny lady. From time to time she and I would engage in a feud or two for several days at a time but it was all in fun both for us and, I think, for our readers. And we'd leave each other funny comments, poking fun at each other. I miss her friendship and our humorous exchanges. The other blogger I'm letting go is Chelle, The Offended Blogger . Chelle was a special lady. In addition to her own blog she created and managed Humor Bloggers Dot Com where humour bloggers like m...

The Dangling Conversation

There's a debate underway in my household between my wife and I. I say "underway" because it hasn't quite reached the "raging" stage. If you want raging, my wife (a Francophone) and I (an Anglophone) from time to time (usually in a weak moment of my own making) slip into our number one discussion around why we don't speak more French at home - ergo - when am I, a former public servant who learned French at the expense of our gracious taxpayers and was technically rated bilingual (even though I hardly used it), going to improve my use of Canada's other language? This one never gets resolved, hence it's ongoing nature. But the current debate is over a remark I casually made the other day. I'm no geek, but with a lot of time on my hands I surf the web, converse on Facebook and such and - I have to admit - "I'm nonamedufus and I'm a Twitterholic". In an epiphany-like moment I was struck by the apparent impact of social networkin...

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