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Flatulence has become this century’s version of bad breath. Once only snickered at in private, thanks to the genius of capitalism, America’s flatulence problem may become a thing of the past.
As with most problems, an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure. Certain foods are prone to cause flatulence. Although with Uncle Nunzi, his particular problem encompasses all food groups. Uncle only has to “cauliflower” before he begins reacting, in a manner of speaking. Treating flatulence after it occurs is sort of like closing the barn door after the horse has left for pastures unknown. Not that I didn’t try.
Not knowing how to approach this indelicate problem with Uncle, I simply went ahead and purchased underwear that used a carbon patch to neutralize the odor. I gave the underwear to Uncle Nunzi and casually mentioned I thought he could use a new pair. Uncle asked what the patch was inside the new underwear, and I came clean. The failure of the product was, shall we say, discovered in a most untimely manner — in the middle of a dinner party.
Without getting too technical, neutralizing flatulence is actually a two-part proposition. While the carbon patch effectively did its job in neutralizing any offending odor, unfortunately it did nothing to muffle the sound. It was somewhere between the second course and dessert that Uncle and I simultaneously realized his problem had not been fully resolved. Let’s put it this way, the only way Uncle would have been able to hide his failure to fully digest the broccoli rabe would have been if I had selected Tchaikovsky’s “1812 Overture” as dinner music instead of the Bill Evans Trio playing “Moonlight Becomes You.” And Tchaikovsky would have needed to have been accompanied by a very loud display of fireworks. Uncle was mortified. I felt personally responsible for overpromising on the carbon patch underwear. We both went off in search of another solution.
I should interject to remind you Uncle is not alone in this problem. Far be it from me to stigmatize my favorite uncle. I should also reassure you Uncle is fully on board with my disclosing his embarrassing problem in this column, if only to encourage others so afflicted to shed their shame and come out of the closet, the water closet in this instance.
Flatulence has been an unacknowledged problem throughout our history — the shame that knows no name. That is not to say a lucky few have not profited from it. In one of an early Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, a talented gentleman used his acute flatulence to “play” “Happy Birthday.” The thing that really made the gentleman unique was that after playing the song, he was able to blow out all 10 candles on a perfectly positioned birthday cake. But it must be said — rarely has flatulence been a boon to its sufferer.
Throughout recorded (and unrecorded) history, flatulence has played a key role in shaping the issues of the day. It is not well known that it was really Julius Caesar’s flatulence that caused Brutus and his conspirators to attack him on the Ides of March. Caesar had spoiled many an orgy with his gassiness until finally even his friends decided it was time for a change. When Caesar uttered those famous words, “Et tu Brutus,” he was really pointing out Brutus himself also suffered from the problem and had a helluva nerve singling out Caesar.
The Wright Brothers airplane would never have taken flight if Wilbur hadn’t eaten some German sausages and sauerkraut for lunch before getting into the cockpit.
Even going back to the Garden of Eden, it was not the fact that Adam ate the apple that got him and Eve tossed out of Paradise, but he had developed problems of a sort trying to digest that first apple, which posed a threat to the lush foliage nearby. This incident prompted the expression, “What on God’s green earth!”
The really interesting fact about how the Navy SEALs tracked Osama bin Laden to his hiding place was that the chickpeas in his falafel had acted up, and “now you know the rest of the story.”
None of the history surrounding the universal problem of flatulence made Uncle Nunzi feel any better. It was then we discovered Beano one night while watching a TV commercial during the “Sons of Anarchy.” For some reason, FX seems to run more Beano commercials than the rest of the cable stations combined. Beano claims it stops gas before it starts. It is a pill that supposedly contains natural enzymes that act in the digestive tract. At this point, we don’t know whether it will finally solve Uncle’s excessive gas.
Our thought is to isolate Uncle in his room for three days and feed him assorted Italian cured meats with a little rabe and some fava beans thrown in for good measure. We are hoping against hope that Beano will work and we will not have to call in the military guy from “The Hurt Locker” to defuse Uncle in order to let him return to civilization. The project is being underwritten by Consumer Reports.
If the medicine doesn’t work, maybe Uncle can learn to “play” “Happy Birthday.”
Contact the South Philly Review at editor@southphillyreview.com.
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