The Sensual Joys of Jetpacking
It seems spooning and flatulence go hand in hand.
“I do so love your big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little mercy cracks.” James Joyce
If you’re like me, you love the Urban Dictionary. It’s my go-term reference for all things weird and occasionally shocking. Yesterday I learned a term called “jetpacking,” a type of slang for passing wind.
Actually, it’s more like flatulence with fanfare. From what I gather, this occurs during “spooning,” and it tends to be a jockeying for position, depending on who has more wind than the other.
According to the Urban Dictionary, if you’re the gaseous one, it pays to be the “little spoon.” Then again, there are those who think it’s the “big spoon” who gets the real benefit. In other words, they want to be “jetpacked. They’re true olfactophiles, in other words, where smells often lead to sexual desire and uncontrollable sniffing.
As one woman on Reddit once said, “It sort of makes deodorant and perfume a waste of time.”
Well, okay, if your partner gets off on flatulence, it’s not like putting out for expensive lube. All you’re doing is letting a bodily function take centre stage in your love life. As one woman on Reddit said, “It sort of makes deodorant and perfume a waste of time.”
Then again, why knock it? Most perfumes are nothing more than the musk produced by animals, anyway. If you’re embarrassed by flatulence, imagine how embarrassing it must be paying hundreds of dollars for musk. Frankly, you’re going to pass wind anyway, right? If it turns your partner on, have at it.
The term “jetpack” is relatively recent, and no doubt appeals to those Buck Rogers enthusiasts who’ve now moved on to olfactophilia. If you remember Buck Rogers, some form of steam was rising all the time. Who knew one day it would translate into a “spooner’s delight”?
In fact, any smell associated with the nether regions makes them randy as buck rabbits.
There’s even a subtype of olfactophilia known as eproctophilia. These eprocotphiles (say that three times) spend an abnormal amount of time thinking about flatulence. In fact, any smell associated with the nether regions makes them randy as buck rabbits.
“I’m not ashamed of my interest,” said Brad, a true eprotophile who took part in a major study (Aggrawal, 2009). When asked about his sexual orientation, he felt he was heterosexual, but as far as smelling farts goes, he figures he’s bisexual (any butt sneeze will do, in other words).
In terms of what turns him on the most, he said, “I like a deep bubbling sound and an acrid sulphur smell.” More importantly, he likes the smell to come through clothes where it gets “spread around” instead of a “quick blast.”
Brad’s obviously thought a lot about this, possibly to the point of being a jetpack gourmand. Still, you have to set your priorities when you’re an eproctophile, or farting is just farting, right?
James Joyce once referred to farting in a letter to his beloved Nora Barnacle, saying he deeply appreciated her “big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little mercy cracks.”
And don’t think for a minute “jetpacking” is a new thing. Supposedly it’s been going on in prestigious beds for years. James Joyce once referred to flatulence in a letter to his beloved Nora Barnacle, saying he deeply appreciated her “big fat fellows, long windy ones, quick little mercy cracks.”
Seeing as he was very short sighted (technically blind), I can understand his enhanced sense of smell. I, on the other hand, am not a big fan of even “little mercy cracks” — even my own.
When one escapes, I’m not above blaming the dog (I don’t have a dog), or wild geese (which fly over the house nightly, and I’m sure fart like crazy).
Maybe I’m just a square in the flatulence realm, finding any smell offensive, even if it’s someone trying to be funny. What’s funny is them thinking it’s funny. No doubt they grew up thinking “dutch ovens” or “lighting one” were funny, too.
Maybe “A Little Cloud” was his homage to Nora’s “quick little mercy cracks.”
Anyway, as far as finding butt sneezes sexy, I’m sure James Joyce liked to explore sensuality to its limits, just as Napoleon would write Josephine from the battle field, telling her not to bathe when he got home.
To each their own, some would say, but c’mon “big, fat fellows”? I mean, maybe that’s why Joyce wrote “A Painful Case,” or maybe “Counterparts” since, no doubt, he was the big spoon, and who knows, maybe “A Little Cloud” was his homage to Nora’s “quick little mercy cracks.”
Or maybe using smell as an orgasmic retreat goes beyond literary license. Maybe their heightened sense of the erotic led them to flatulence after being unfulfilled by sex, alcoholism or shooting squirrels.
Speaking of shooting squirrels, there’s no word on what Hemingway thought of “jetpacking,” but rest assured, on those African safaris, he must’ve heard flatulence galore from the big game he hunted. As they echoed across the Serengeti, it might’ve given him ideas, although camp cots aren’t the greatest for spooning.
If Hemingway had written “You can’t write without appreciating flatulence,” I’d probably change my mind about this whole thing. I’m always looking for ways to improve my writing. If that means jetpacking, I’ll do it for the cause. God knows, writing is hard enough without being hamstrung by a revulsion to gaseous odors.
“We used to call him fat pig,” one Cuban admitted, although that probably referred to the fact that Hemingway was fat.
That said, I still haven’t heard from Hemingway, although there’s a bar in Havana where old patrons claim Hemingway was as windy as they come. “We used to call him fat pig,” one Cuban admitted, although that probably referred to the fact that Hemingway was fat.
Just to be clear, I’m not going along with this whole jetpacking idea simply because James Joyce liked it. He’s not one of my favourite writers, anyway. I prefer Kurt Vonnegut who did say one time, “I tell you, we are here on Earth to fart around, and don’t let anybody tell you different.”
That’s not necessarily the same as jetpacking, but he is right about enjoying life, and not getting caught up in what society considers appropriate.
Just don’t believe this crazy notion that if you can pass wind in front of somebody, you know they love you. They love you despite you smelling up the place. But, hell, who am I to judge in the end (no, that’s not a pun…okay, it is). If you think butt sneezes or “jetpacking” is a recipe for love, then throw out those “big fat fellows” and maybe it’ll bring you happiness.
According to her, she’s bisexual, and I’m sure, like Brad, flatulence has a lot to do with it.
I guess I should leave the last word(s) to Jenny McCarthy who said, “My philosophy of dating is to just fart right away.” According to her, she’s bisexual, and I’m sure, like Brad, flatulence has a lot to do with it.
Frank Zappa used to put them in baggies. Just a little historical footnote. Frank did lots of weird things. One man’s “joy,” in other words. Mine is blaming the dog for my own windy expulsions (still don’t have a dog, but the dog next door gets blamed a lot).
In any event, I still think this jetpacking thing is pretty weenie. That’s just me, though. I’m no eproctophile (hell, I’m lucky if I can spell it).
Robert Cormack is a satirist, novelist and blogger. His first novel “You Can Lead a Horse to Water (But You Can’t Make It Scuba Dive)” is available online and at most major bookstores. Check out Robert’s other articles and stories at robertcormack.net
