Have You Tried the Internet?

Hello Readers, happy 2020! Even though we’ve turned the page on another year, and another decade, many of your emails from 2019 expressed concern for something we will all struggle with for years to come - how to be heard, and respected, in today’s world of constant noise and relentless messaging that bombards us on all sides.

This week I’d like to feature a few of the questions I received over the holidays underlying that very sentiment. Throughout my responses you’ll recognize a theme. I’m calling this iteration of Reader Q&A, “Have You Tried the Internet?”

Dear Dr. Heppermann,

                I am a forty-something father of two, whose oldest daughter just turned 14. Lately, I can’t get her to talk to me for more than a few minutes a day. It seems every time I look up, she has her head buried in her phone. How can I get her attention?

                Ted in Kansas City

Great question. You might be tempted to take away your daughter’s phone, but that will only cause a rift. Try recording a video of yourself asking about her day on your own phone. You could forward the video straight to her, but if you upload it to YouTube, it’ll make a bigger splash. She’ll appreciate that you’re engaging with a popular form of entertainment and show her you’re a “cool dad.” Good luck, Ted.

Dear Dr. Heppermann,

I’m a Geology professor at a private university with a PhD in Environmental Science. This spring, I’ll once again attend a family reunion on my mother’s side. Every year at this reunion I try to bring up the importance of climate change, only to hear a family member tell me it’s rude to discuss “politics.” How do I get them to hear me out on this serious topic?

Mary in Seattle

Mary, climate change is a serious topic indeed and I’m glad to hear of your efforts to spread the word. Why don’t you start a blog and ask all your relatives to subscribe? People love blogs. And let’s face it, you won’t have to see any eye rolls from those who disagree with you. Speaking of which – you might want to argue against the science of climate change if you want folks to keep coming back. It’s all about clicks.

Dear Dr. Heppermann,

The other day I stood outside the estate of a female celebrity and shouted unchivalrous things toward the house. The police came and removed me from the premises. Then she filed a restraining order. How do I get her to see what a good guy I am?

Kyle in Los Angeles

Not sure why you bothered to go outside, Kyle. I tweeted at my own celebrity crush, saying how visually unappealing she is, thereby making her an unfit mother. During her next late-night talk show appearance, she read my tweet on the air and lo’ and behold she started laughing hysterically with the host and everyone in the audience. I have yet to hear from her, but the next day I had five million more followers!

Before I get back to the questions, below is a letter I received from a fan after offering him similar advice:

Dear Dr. Heppermann,

I wanted to let you know I stubbornly called into a local radio station and complained on air that the trailer for the “Celestial Feud” movie clearly shows a purple Tortulian running across the plains of Noomsdie and that’s not possible because purple Tortulians only live on Humpeldorf and it clearly wasn’t transported to Noomsdie because it was established three prequels ago that purple Tortulians can’t leave Humpeldorf’ s atmosphere. The on-air personalities accused me of “caring too much” and being a “psychopath.” BUT when I started the Twitter movement #TheTortuliansOfNoomsdieAreOrange, thousands of others quickly joined and the impact was immediate. The studio pushed the movie’s release date out two weeks, called the actors back to set, and reshot the eight-second scene with an orange Tortulian, obviously recognizing that fans wouldn’t be satisfied with digitally coloring over the purple Tortulian or with the studio saving millions of dollars by not making any changes whatsoever. Internet to the rescue! I’m indebted to you forever.

                Rick in Minneapolis

See, Rick gets it. Back to the questions.

Dear Dr. Heppermann,

I recently attended a “Masked Singer” viewing party and after a particularly disturbing commercial, I mentioned to the room that women should never endorse lawn care equipment because their menstrual cycles alter the chemical compounds in weed killer, causing weeds to multiply and grow to untenable heights. The room got quiet until Bob broke the tension by saying, “I bet the platypus is Cloris Leachman.” Maybe my jackass neighbors don’t care, but this issue cannot be ignored. Suggestions?

Todd in Des Moines

Todd, I took the liberty of dropping your sentiment in a Reddit thread and this morning I heard from the leading manufacturer of weed killer in the United States. All of their packaging will now include the following statement: “Impervious to female reproductive events.” You’re welcome!

Dear Dr. Heppermann,

                I am a marine biologist who has spent ten years speaking around the globe, including in front of the U.N., about the rapidly-depleting population of the Blue Horned Puffer Fish. Their dwindling numbers are disrupting the migratory patterns of their predators and will soon permanently alter our oceans’ entire ecosystem. No matter what my colleagues and I do, the problem of hunting these creatures only grows worse. I’d like to point out that I wrote to you eighteen months ago with the same concern. Please don’t advise that I write some incoherent rant on the internet. There is way too much content online for it to get noticed.

                Janet in Charleston, S.C.

Janet, I hate to break it to you, but this ain’t 2015. Nothing goes unnoticed on the internet anymore. Take for example the chat room on long-term urine storage I joined in 2009. Back then it was just me and two other lonely saps extorting the healing powers of finely-aged, barrel-sealed horse piss. It was fun for a while, but we eventually got bored and joined various other chat rooms focusing on squirrel breeding. Then early last year, a local reporter stumbled upon our ammonia-centric conversations that sat dormant in the dark recesses of the web until she wrote an online think piece about our group. Where the three of us may have, at one time, been referred to simply as losers, now we are known as Pee Collecting Enthusiasts. Apparently we are an internet subculture that has been called “unstable” and “medically dangerous,” but is now 8,000 members strong.

Anyway, my point is this: take a picture of yourself wagging a finger at a plate of fish sticks and post it to Instagram. You’ll be the lead story on tomorrow’s evening news.

Dear Dr. Heppermann,

Every week I stand on a street corner and rail against the pro-Marxist teachings that pulse through the music of Grand Funk Railroad. No one ever listens. What can I do?

Lewis in NYC

It’s called The New York Post comments section. Sheesh.

Are You Asking Me if I Heard This Powerful/Influential/Rich/Beloved/Well-Connected Man Demand Oral Sex From a Woman in Exchange for Employment? That’s Tricky.

Have other people publicly said they heard him do it?

How many?

Wow! That many, huh?

How many of the people who said they’ve heard him do it are male?

None of them are male?!

Ooooohhh… (thinking)

Of these people who said they’ve heard him do it, how many would you describe as being “Seinfeld fans” and how many would you describe as being “Tyler Perry fans?”

Oy. You’re killing me here.

Did we ever settle the whole “Does oral sex count as sex?” debate?

We did?

Are you sure?

Could I post a tweet with a hashtag to a pre-existing conversation on this topic that I could easily delete at a later time if I felt pressured to do so, or do you want me to actually say it in front of an audience while I’m being taped?

Or better yet, what if I gave a newspaper interview and then the next day say my comments were taken out of context?

No good?

Could this powerful/influential/rich/beloved/well-connected man see to it that I don’t work again if I speak out?

OR would I actually better my chances of getting my own TV show by saying something?

Of the people who said they’ve heard him do it, how many of them are still working?

Wow! That few, huh?

Could I wait until I have a daughter so people can appreciate why this subject particularly bothers me?

Uggghhh! This is so hard! (wringing hands and looking at the sky)

I don’t know. Ask me again in 10 years.

I Have a Dream

This morning, like millions of American citizens, I am going to vote. This evening, after a full day of work, I will sit with my children and watch the numbers come in, all the while explaining to them the electoral process that determines our president every four years.

And long after my kids have gone to bed, I will stay up to see just who in fact will be the next leader of the free world. And the only thing I hope for, my sole wish for the outcome of this election cycle, is after one of the candidates is determined the winner, I would like to see both Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump walk on a single stage together, look one another in the eye, and embrace.

And I’d like them to hold that embrace so that we may all believe for a brief, fleeting moment that humanity has been restored to politics. I’d like for them to pull back from that embrace, smile sincerely, and then satisfy each other, physically, in a manner that neither has been satisfied before.

On live TV, on an empty stage, save for the backdrop of American flags, I’d like to see Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton satisfy each other in ways that few others in history have experienced, and even fewer will appreciate in the future. I want their vigorous, odd enjoyment of each other to ring out across our television sets, bringing hope and confusion to all, and nausea to many.

And as they pleasure one another over and over on television feeds that refuse to cut away to anything else, I also hope that the internet simultaneously ceases to exist. That anyone wishing to share in the moment online or comment on it in any way is unable to do so. And I wish that, despite the cameras rolling until the end of their marathon love-making session, none of the networks retain any copies of the hairy, sweaty, flabby ordeal.

With no way to re-watch what happened post-election, I want people to stumble into the streets the next morning and ask each other if what they saw was real. Millions of people around the world will assure each other that they did see the two candidates do things they didn’t think were possible, but their memories will be the only thing that allows them to conjure the event again.

And even though the dissolution of the internet means we will have to return to stores to purchase material goods, and call pizza delivery chains to order our future pizzas, it also means we will no longer inadvertently read comments about how shitty someone else’s online ordering experience was. And even though it means blogs like this one will be no more, it also means I will stop having reasons to think all my friends are douchebags.

And on January 20, 2017, I would like to see my neighbor Frank sworn in as our next president. Because he seems like a decent guy.

That is my wish. My hope. My dream.

An Open Letter to the Ministry of 2016 Presidential Debate Schedulers

It is a Ministry, right? I don’t know the official title that your group holds, but I assume you’re made up of some folks on the left, some folks on the right, and some cable and network TV execs. Therefore it has to be a title that doesn’t just represent a portion of its members, and one that everybody agrees paints the committee in a favorable light, without settling on “committee” of course, since that’s not very flashy. Conglomerate, maybe?

Whatever your title, my point for writing is to ask a simple question. Can we please not do this? You know, have the debates?

I realize that not having the presidential debates would be without precedent, but let’s face it – this election itself is unprecedented. You have one candidate whom the people didn’t want in 2012 and the party doesn’t want now, and the other candidate whom the people didn’t want in 2008 and may not want now either, but we’ll never know for sure because their party attempted to sabotage the chances of the guy with the catchy, STDish sounding slogan. We saw a sizeable number of people protesting their own party’s nominee during BOTH conventions. The conventions! No one protests at the conventions!! That’s like buying tickets to boo the Globetrotters.

So even though they’re bound to be exceedingly entertaining, it’s safe to say no one wants to see these upcoming debates. Actually, that’s probably not true. For the sheer entertainment value, a lot of people probably do want to see them, but they shouldn’t. For the sake of their mental and emotional well-being.

And besides being poor for our health, the debates will be utterly pointless. For starters, and this has never been more true in any election year, there is nothing that anyone will learn about either candidate between now and the election that will make them change their vote. Nothing. But dubbing this year’s debates “a massive waste of time” isn’t telling the whole story. Like a monkey throwing poop is to comedy, these debates will be the lowest form of their art (in this case democracy, supposedly). And anyone unfortunate enough to witness a debate and a shit-slinging monkey in person will walk away feeling remarkably the same both times.

If you’re more optimistic of how the debates will turn out, what do you think is the best case scenario? Because I can tell you what their ceiling is: professional wrestling. The candidates already devolved into making comments about each other that are no more intelligible than the interviews preceding Wrestlemania. And need I remind you that one of the candidates actually participated in said event a few years ago? Even if you do need reminding, you can certainly guess which candidate it was, right? It was Trump. For fuck’s sake, of course it was Trump. That’s the kind of environment he’s most comfortable in – a spectacle.

We don’t need more spectacle. We need for the two nominees to go into hiding until November. By continuing to talk for the next 7 weeks, they will accomplish nothing more than to fuel our hatred for them even more. People all across the country have made it clear that what is motivating them to vote for their chosen candidate is an all-consuming, unparalleled hatred for the other candidate. A hatred that has seeped into every crevice of their soul and painted it black using pitch forks covered in sand paper.

Is that what you want? More hatred? Not sure why I asked that question, really. Of course that’s what you want.

Well, I guess your wish will soon be granted. And our ears will burn like the caverns of Hell.

Yours truly,

The Nation

Human Beings are Really, Really Bad at Being Human Beings

That might sound like I’m talking about the poor way we treat each other, which is certainly a problem, as mankind’s history of civility towards its own is astoundingly appalling. But I’m actually referring to our ineptitude on a more basic, rudimentary level. I’m talking about our struggle to live within ourselves. Our battle with simply… being. Humans make living look awfully hard.

First of all, we have to be nurtured for decades before we can live on our own, and some of us can only do so for, like, 6 months before moving back home. Some people never even try to live on their own. More and more people it seems. Animals, on the other hand, get shown the door weeks after they’re born. Mama birds bring their babies a mouthful of worms on that first day and then proclaim, “This is what we eat, ok? You’ll find them on the ground. Now get your shit and get out.”

And animals are fine after that! They know how to be animals. They quickly adapt to their surroundings and the environment. They don’t need years of tutelage before understanding how to take care of themselves or other animals. People receive massive amounts of guidance and then turn around and consult books, friends, neighbors, and doctors to learn how to pass on that same guidance to their own offspring.

Trees seem to do pretty well on their own too. If a tree is left alone, its roots will spread and it will grow to be really tall and every year at the same time its leaves will turn colors and then fall off and then regenerate over and over throughout its life. No one has to show it how to do that or tell it to be considerate of the other trees. It never looks at the tree next to it and says, “You’re not really fulfilling all of my emotional needs.”

Not only do we need a lot of advice on how to get through the day or live with each other, we need all kinds of pick-me-ups too. Which is weird because none of the squirrels outside my office ever hold coffee mugs that say “Don’t bother me, I’m only on my 3rd cup.” Nor have I ever heard a beaver tell another beaver, “I can’t work on the dam unless my favorite podcast is playing in the background.”

If that’s not pathetic enough, we also need all kinds of bring-me-downs. Why? Because we can’t sleep right, either. None of us. It’s pretty ridiculous when you think about it. How do millions of us struggle with one of the few things that living creatures are biologically programmed to do? From birth to death, humans don’t know how to do it. Babies and old people are up all night pissing themselves, and the rest of us can’t fall asleep or stay asleep or we get up and walk around while we sleep or we temporarily stop breathing while we sleep.

I injure myself while I sleep, that’s my thing. I don’t grab sharp objects and stab myself with them, but I roll over so vigorously I put myself in traction. I fall asleep feeling fine and wake up with a herniated disk. Never seen that happen to a cow. Cows can sleep standing up for God’s sake. Or can they? That might just be a myth. But that’s what humans do. We don’t just gossip about other people, we gossip about animals.

We can’t even control the kinds of food we eat or how much. Will that cause high cholesterol? Diabetes? Multiple heart attacks? Cancer? Well, put some bacon on it and fill up my plate.

"You know that will kill you, right?"

“But it’s so good!!”

We don’t just screw up eating, sleeping and parenting. If those were the only things we got wrong, we wouldn’t need a million and one self-help books. Or therapists. Or motivational speakers. Human beings are so illogical that many of us devote our lives to studying the behavior of others. Whales are a mystery, sure. Mosquitos? We still haven’t figured out their purpose. But how do millions of people do things that make millions of other members of the same species go, “Whoa. That’s fucked up.”

Then there’s the fact that, as I mentioned earlier, we’re not exactly civil. We kill each other without any plans to eat the person we kill or wear their body for warmth. It took all of mankind thousands of years and countless wars before we collectively agreed that owning other people isn’t really appropriate. And somewhere along the way we decided only men who put their pee-pees in hoo-has and only women whose hoo-has accept pee-pees can receive tax benefits by cohabitating or visit their loved ones in the hospital.

Is life really this hard?

Judging by the 2016 presidential race, the answer is: Yes, life really is this hard. Based on who we’ve picked to lead us, none of us has any idea what we’re doing, and we apparently have no hope for the future.

But we’ve never been good at this. Oh sure, we’ve managed to extend our life spans, which would make it appear as if the medical community at least knows what it’s doing, but that just means we get to bathe in our misery longer. After all, who are the angriest people you know? That’s right, old people.

Collectively, we have always searched for, and tried to define, happiness.

Who’s happy? You happy? I’m not happy? Why aren’t you happy? Why should I be happy? What makes us happy? Money? Power? Love? Friends? Family? Beer? Maybe a new job would make me happy. Or a relationship. Or a change of scenery. Or just a vacation. Or maybe I have everything and I’m still not happy. Well, I don’t have everything. I don’t have what that guy’s got.

How much of our lives are wasted trying to achieve the things we think will make us happy? Maybe we’d be happier if we didn’t try so hard to find happiness. But it’s rooted in our souls to believe we are entitled to happiness. At least it is for Americans. Our freaking Declaration of Independence says one of only three unalienable rights as human beings is the “Pursuit of Happiness.”

Even the Founding Fathers knew we'd never find happiness, but damnit, no one was going to stop us from looking for it.

Happiness would come a lot easier if mankind was better at accepting its limitations. You would think that if something as necessary to survival as oxygen were in short supply at an altitude as high as, let’s say, Mt. Everest, then people wouldn’t do something as counterproductive as climb to said height. Or that if a body of water was filled with something as detrimental to our survival as, let’s say, sharks, then people wouldn’t fling themselves into said water. You would of course be wrong on both counts.

And yet somehow, despite such limited brain capacity, animals know their strengths and weaknesses. For instance, dogs can instinctively swim, but they never try to swim across Lake Michigan just because “it’s there.” And dogs are the happiest damn creatures on Earth.

Humans even spent millions of dollars to get to the moon so America could feel good about itself, and ever since we’ve talked about visiting and even colonizing other planets. Because that will make us all happy? Has anyone seen The Martian? He grew potatoes from his poop, people!

But noooooo… we always have to kick life in the balls in order to make it worthwhile. Which is kind of cruel towards life when you think about it.

Then again, life sure isn’t making things easy for us, apparently.

A Firefighter Talks to Mrs. Schulz’s Middle School Class About Firework Safety

Thanks for having me here today. This looks like a great class! I want to thank Mrs. Schulz for asking me to come and speak with you.

There are all sorts of things you should know about fire safety, but with July 4th just around the corner, I want to talk to you today about how to be safe around fireworks. I know a lot of you will be near friends and family who will handle them, or you’ll be handling them yourselves, so let’s go over some important tips.

First and foremost, never light any kind of firework indoors. Second, always be on a flat surface like asphalt or concrete with nothing else around you when you’re lighting fireworks. And never try to light anything on a grassy surface. That’s how fires break out.

It looks like we have a question. Go ahead.

That’s right, a fire will spread faster if the ground is very dry, but even with the rainy season we’ve had this year, you still don’t want to set off fireworks on grass or near trees and other brush.

Yes, you have a question?

Can you shoot fireworks out of your genitals? Wow. I’ve never been asked that question. No, obviously you should never do that. In fact, you shouldn’t shoot fireworks off any part of your body or even hold them in your hands. Sparklers are about the only thing you can hold in your hand, and even those are dangerous. So be very careful when doing so.

Any other questions? Yes, you in the back?

No, you should never shoot fireworks out of your friends’ genitals either. Don’t ever shoot them off of your body or anyone else’s body. That’s very dangerous.

I’m sorry? Can you shoot them out of a dead guy’s genitals? Ok, what grade level is this again? Seventh. Ahh. Well, I get the sense that you’re trying to embarrass me, but that’s alright. I can actually answer that silly question with a serious answer. It’s illegal to desecrate a corpse in most counties, including this one, so that would be a bad idea.

Now, let’s get back to some tips when lighting fireworks. Always make sure to read the directions in full before lighting anything, even if it’s something you have set off in previous years. Safety warnings are updated regularly and… oh, it looks like we have another question. Go ahead.

A dead animal’s genitals. You know what, you guys are acting like you just learned that word, which I find hard to believe. Don’t laugh because I said “hard.” Do not laugh because I said “hard!”

Where did Mrs. Schultz go? She just left? Every day, she does that? Why did you put air quotes around “mental health break?” It doesn’t matter. Listen, I’ve got some other advice for you guys. Only you think this is funny. No one else laughs like this when they hear that word. In fact, if anyone else saw how you are behaving, they would think you’re acting ridiculous. At this age, you should really have more evolved senses of humor. So, let’s elevate this discussion to a level that’s more appropriate for the young ladies and gentlemen that you are.

Now, have any of you ever been hurt in a fireworks accident or know anyone who has? Really, you know someone? Can you tell us about it? Your brother died? Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry to hear that. Is it something you’re able to talk about? Ok, well if you wouldn’t mind sharing what happened, it could be a valuable lesson for the class.

Seriously? Are you serious right now? I never want to dismiss the loss of a loved one, but when you tell me he died by shooting them out of his genitals, I find it really hard to believe given everything that’s been said. You may not know this, but when something like that happens, parents can get in a lot of trouble and sometimes other children in the household can even be taken away from them.

Come again? You live with your grandmother now because of the accident? Oh. Ok. Wow, I’m so sorry. I thought you were joking.

You see this, guys? His family suffered a real tragedy and you all have turned it into a joke. In my profession, one of the most important tasks you have is to pick up your fellow firefighters, not just physically, but emotionally. It’s vital to have a strong support system. There’s nothing funny about losing a loved one, no matter how it happens.

You’re scared of your grandmother? Uh… well, if you want I can walk you down to the office and see if the school counselor can schedule some time to talk to you. Or if you’re not comfortable doing that, there’s a grief counselor assigned to our unit that is great with this type of thing. I’m not sure how much experience she has with kids, but… what’s that?

You’re scared of your grandmother because she shoots fireworks out of her genitals. Alright, I know I have 20 minutes left, but I’m going to wrap this up. Tell Mrs. Schulz whatever you want. And try to be safe this Fourth of July.

Blame It on the Dog? Those Days are Over… for the Rich

If I asked you to name the company with the largest 2016 first quarter revenue increase compared to its 2015 first quarter figures, which businesses pop into your head?

Berkshire Hathaway? JP Morgan? Apple?

Nope.

What if I told you it’s a relatively new company, formed within the last five years?

Uber? AirBNB? Snapchat?

Good guesses, but no.

The company is Col-Essence, and it’s all due to their one and only product, Flatulends, the odorless gas pill. But it doesn’t work on just any noxious gases, it only works on your noxious gases. Not that I have to tell you that.

Odds are, if you haven’t bought the latest over-the-counter medical breakthrough, you’ve seen it on your drug store shelves, or advertised on TV, the internet, billboards or in magazines. It’s everywhere. The pill that you thought was an SNL spoof gone too far, has proven to be anything “butt.”

And to mark the company’s 18-month anniversary, it has announced the release of not just one, but four flavored scents – orange, vanilla, peppermint and evergreen. Looming over all of us, however, is a larger social question than the typical, “Why didn’t they come out with the flavored aromas from the beginning?” And that is this: Is Flatulends the next big thing in class warfare?

Because while the odds are high that you’ve heard of it, the odds are quite low that you have actually purchased it. Col-Essence confirmed near the end of 2015 that nearly 90% of Flatulends’ sales in the U.S. come from roughly 5% of the population – the 5% that can afford its outrageous price tag.

A 12 pack of the odor-ending pill retails for a wallet-denting $225. And industry insiders are confident the price of the flavored offerings will start out at least 10% higher than the originals, despite the fact that flavored smells negate Flatulends’ original purpose of letting the user leave a trail o’ toots without anyone being the wiser.

But with revenues what they are, it seems Col-Essence could cut the price by $200 and let the increased volume make up for the lower profit margin per pack. The demand is certainly there, and the cost of large-scale development is a virtual non-factor.

Furthermore, during an interview in December’s issue of Business Breakthroughs magazine, Col-essence president Joel Crowning confirmed the company has the manufacturing and distribution capabilities to keep up with much higher demand, but he doesn’t want to disrupt Flatulends’ brand in the marketplace. 

“Ferrari could sell a million cars a year if each one was the price of a KIA, but they don’t need to do that,” Crowning said. “Our product has proven its worth in the market, and de-valuing it at this point could potentially damage the company’s future.”

However Crowning views his role – businessman, innovator, mad scientist – his product begs the question, just like healthcare and education before it, “What should be up for grabs to those who can pay for it, and what should be available to everyone?” It’s a question that a few of the 2016 presidential candidates have started asking.

In an election cycle in which both sides have pointed the “class warfare” finger at the other, viewers of the last two Republican and Democratic debates have heard Flatulends mentioned more times than healthcare, minimum wage, and the cost of higher education combined. Some have gone as far to say the pills should be placed in bowls and set atop the check-in desks of every doctor’s office in the country.

But it’s not an issue that will decide the election, nor should it. After all, Col-Essence is a privately held corporation, so unless the federal government buys the formula or reproduces its magic recipe, Crowning is free to make and market his product how he sees fit. And since he clings to the Flatulends formula more tightly than the makers of Coca-Cola®, replicating its stink-ceasing effects is not likely anytime soon.

However, one can hope that Mr. Crowning is a sensible man that can be reasoned with. After all, not only can everyone benefit from his product, but society as a whole could benefit by everyone having it. Every shared space in the country would have the potential to smell better – locker rooms, movie theaters, the subway, and, most importantly, the bedroom. Let’s not forget the amount of embarrassment we would all forgo in those shared spaces as well.

Of the two identifiers that clearly indicate wind has been broken (sound and smell), only one of them can never be controlled. Only one gives it away every time. And now that piece of evidence can be eliminated entirely. With the right amount of effort and control, sound isn’t even a factor, which means Flatulends can free the gaseous portion of the population from the anxiety that comes with going out in public. For some, it could practically double as an anti-depressant.

Instead, given its current accessibility, the pill merely supports an idealistic view that rich people already hold about themselves: that there’s don’t stink.

But humanitarian appeals aside, money is the only thing that’s going to make a difference in this debate. That much was clear in the same Business Breakthroughs interview, when Crowning crowed, “I’m not in this business to hand out good-smelling farts to everyone. I’m in this business to hand out good-smelling farts to everyone who wants to pay for them.”

Well Joel, everyone does want to pay for them. They just can’t. Particularly given that each pill only works for roughly 24 hours. And as much money as your company has raked in already, the truth is it would make a… well… shitload of it by following the KIA model. It’s true that people buy Ferraris despite the price, but they buy a whole lot more KIAs because of it.

Don’t be blind to the fact that Flatulends can make billions of people happy and line your pockets with even billions more in profit. You may no longer have to waft in a fog of your own producing, but here’s hoping that fog hasn’t seeped into your head and enveloped your brain.