Farts.

Since I referenced it in the last meandering:

My dog farted last night.

I should have taken more notice other than to throw a pillow at him in a vain attempt to get him to leave the room. Because 10 minutes later he was vomiting on my rug. Bear in mind, I have hardwood floors. I have only one rug in the house, an 8x4 effort that is there because I am too lazy to drag it into the attic. My dog nailed it. Go figure.

So it is now 2 in the morning, and I cannot sleep. But in pondering the actions of my dog, one thought occured to me.

Gas is pretty amazing.

Think about it. What would life be like if you had somebody telling you the same joke day after day for the rest of your life? "Yeah, I know, you left your Injun running. ha ha." Ground Hog Day without Bill Murray.

But watch an infant when they cut one. They smile. Big. And when they are four and they fart, they laugh. Now watch your Dad.

It's amazing. Farts stay funny your whole life. How many farts do you reckon that you've passed in your life? You think it would be passé'. Now work a really good one up, and step into something like an elevator. Let it rip. Doesn't matter whether it is really loud or a stanky silent one. No difference. Once you've launched the mustard, try not to smile. I dare you. You won't be able to do it.

Farts. Funny for Eternity. At the end of the Apocalypse, when the cacophony of destruction fades into the silence of eternal night, one lingering soul will fart and the Universe will end on a smile.