My Ode To Farts (Part 2)

Joseph Pujol, a man of singular talent, was born in Marseilles, France in 1857. In his early youth it became clear that he was a natural entertainer, singing, dancing, and performing for his parents' house guests. He had a love for music, and over the years he became handy with a trombone, but it was a different wind instrument that led to his eventual fame and fortune.


Young Joseph became alarmed one day when he was swimming in the sea, and took a deep breath before submerging. As he inhaled, he felt icy cold water entering through his rear end. He immediately returned to shore, and was astonished to see a great deal of seawater pouring from his backside. A doctor assured him that this was nothing to be concerned about, and it seems that Joseph took this advice to heart, exploring his strange new ability with a healthy curiosity.

While in the army, he mentioned his childhood sea-bathing experience to his buddies. They immediately wanted to know if he could do it again, so on a day's leave soon afterward he went out to the shore to swim and experiment. He successfully reenacted the hydraulics of his childhood experience there and even discovered that by contracting his abdomen muscles, he could intentionally take up as much water as he liked and eject it in a powerful stream.

Demonstrating this ability back at the barracks later provided the soldiers with no end of amusement, and soon Pujol started to practice with air instead of water, giving him the ability to produce a variety of sounds. This new development provided even more enjoyment for his buddies. It was then and there, in the army, that Pujol invented a nickname for himself that would later become a stage name synonymous throughout Europe with helpless, hysterical laughter: "Le Petomane" (translation: "The Fartiste").

After his stint in the army, Pujol returned to Marseille and to a bakeshop his father set him up in, on a street that, today, proudly bears the name "rue Pujol." At the age of 26 he married Elizabeth Henriette Oliver, the 20-year-old daughter of a local butcher. Pujol enjoyed performing, so in the evenings he entertained at local music halls by singing, doing comedy routines, and even playing his trombone backstage between numbers. He continued amusing his friends privately with his "other" wind instrument, but only at their suggestion and urging did he decide to turn this parlor trick into a full-fledged act for public audiences.

Pujol worked up a Le Petomane routine, and with some friends he rented a space in Marseille to perform it in. They promoted the show heavily themselves through posters and handouts, but word-of-mouth soon took over and they packed the house every night. Pujol's was a good act by any era's standards, but back then his scatology hit a raw nerve, and hit it hard, at an especially vulnerable time.

He developed the act in the provinces until he reached Paris in 1892. Insisting on seeing no one else, he persuaded the director of the Moulin Rouge, M Vidler, to engage him. From the first night he was a sensation.

He took the stage in a red coat, a red silk collar and black satin breeches. He began by explaining each impersonation that was to follow.

"This is a little girl... this is a bride on her wedding night (small noise) ... the morning after (loud rasping noise) ... a dressmaker tearing calico (ten seconds of ripping cloth) ... and this a cannon (loud thunder)."

The audience were at first astounded. Then there would be an uncontrollable laugh, followed by more until the whole audience was wriggling in their seats, convulsed. Women, bound rigid in corsets, were escorted from the hall by nurses, cleverly placed by the manager so that they could he seen in their bright white uniforms.

Pujol embarked on a highly successful tour of Europe and North Africa. On his return, he split from the Moulin Rouge and formed his own variety company at the Pompadour Theatre.

He continued to top the bill there until Europe was launched into a madness of its own in 1914. World War 1 had started. His sons were mobilised and Pujol never went back on stage. He settled in Marseilles to run his bakeries and then moved to Toulon where he established a thriving biscuit factory. He died in 1945, aged 88, and was buried in the cemetery of La Valette-du-Var, where his grave can still be seen today. The Sorbonne offered his family a large sum of money to study his body after his death, but they refused the offer.

Jokers Past and Present

Just thought I'd give credit to Batman's most excellent nemesis. The Joker. What a complete freak! What a lovable psycho!

It all started when this twisted version of a clown came into being in the comic books.



Then there was the ultra campy version of the Joker in the 60's WHAM!-POW!-KONK! Batman and Robin tv show. Cesar Romero was the actor playing the Joker in those days. You could tell he was having a ball with the part. And Romero had an insane laugh, man.

Little Known Fact: Cesar Romero refused to shave his mustache off for the part, even though in the comic books, the Joker never had one. He demanded that he be allowed to keep it, as part of his contract. As a result, the makeup artists had to use the white paint over his mustache.

Jack Nicholson did a fantastic, manic job as the Joker in Tim Burton's Batman. Here's a few choice quotes from Jack in the movie:

You IDIOT! You made me. Remember? You dropped me into that vat of chemicals. That wasn't easy to get over, and don't think that I didn't try.

Now comes the part where I relieve you, the little people, of the burden of your failed and useless lives. But, as my plastic surgeon always said: if you gotta go, go with a smile.

Batman... Batman... Can somebody tell me what kind of a world we live in, where a man dressed up as a *bat* gets all of my press? This town needs an enema!

"Winged freak terrorizes"? Wait'll they get a load of ME!

Never rub another man's rhubard.

Next up is Heath Ledger. A talented actor who died too young from an accidental overdose of sleeping pills. Heath said in an interview that the role of playing such a homicidal maniac like the Joker took it's toll on him. He implied, at least it is my perception, that the role of Joker kept him awake at nights.

I now offer you a clip of the new Batman movie coming in July. Enjoy!

7 Lesser Known Loons From Past and Present (4th Edition)

YOU WILL CERTAINLY BE REMINDED OF THE OLD ADAGE "NO GOOD DEED GOES UNPUNISHED" WHEN YOU READ THIS ACCOUNT OF THIS AXE-WIELDING LOON.

Anton Probst was born in Germany in 1843 and came to the United States in 1863, during the height of the Civil War. Almost immediately upon arriving in New York, the young man volunteered for service in the Union Army. He did not do so because of some patriotic zeal but rather because recruits were being paid $300 in those days. Probst decided to use this to his advantage and he volunteered for the army several times. He would collect a bounty for his enlistment, serve a few weeks in a training camp and then desert, moving on to another northern city, where he would enlist again for another $300. He never saw any action but he did manage to make a comfortable living during the bloody days of the war.

His racket came to an end in 1865 and by the fall of that year, Probst found himself penniless in Philadelphia. Living on the streets, he found out that a man named Christopher Dearing was looking for a handyman to work on his farm. Probst applied at the small homestead on Jones' Lane and was soon hired. The Dearing farm was only a few acres in size with a small house, a barn where a horse and one pig were kept and some grazing space for cattle. Dearing, his wife, Julia, and their five children supported themselves by raising and selling cattle. They were not wealthy by any means, but they were a happy family who managed to get along on the little they earned.

Probst soon revealed his true personality but only to Julia Dearing. She noticed how he did little work and would lounge in the barn when he was supposed to be tending the cattle. After he made several lewd comments to her, she urged her husband to fire the strange young man after just three weeks. Dearing agreed and Probst, claiming to be in poor health, was taken in by a Philadelphia charity hospital. He lingered here from December 1865 to the following February. While lying on his cot in the poor house, Probst schemed to rob the Dearing's and to get even with them. He returned to the farm on March 2, 1866 and begged Christopher Dearing to hire him back. Dearing, who felt sorry for the man, agreed.

Over the course of the next month, Dearing worked harder than he ever had in his life. He pretended to be quite friendly with the family and even Julia began to feel kindly towards the young man. All the while, Probst continued to scheme and on April 7, decided to put his plan into action. That morning, Christopher Dearing traveled by buggy to the Philadelphia docks to meet a visiting family friend, Miss Elizabeth Dolan from Burlington, New Jersey. Meanwhile, Probst and Cornelius Carey, a boy employed to help on the farm, worked in a field. Events began just as started to rain at about nine that morning.

As the rain began to fall, Probst and Carey took shelter under a tree. When the boy looked away for a moment, Probst clobbered Carey with the blunt end of an ax and when he fell, stunned, Probst turned the ax over and severed the boy's head with it! He quickly hid the body in a haystack and then, with methodical precision, Probst lured the entire family --- one by one --- into the barn. There, he struck them senseless with a hammer and then chopped them with the ax until Julia and four of her children, including an infant, had been slaughtered. When Mr. Dearing arrived home with Elizabeth Dolan, Probst was waiting for him. He told him that there was a sick animal in the barn and after they went inside, Probst attacked him with the hammer and ax as well. Miss Dolan, who had gone into the house, was also lured into the barn and she was also slain.

When he was finished, Probst neatly lined all of the bodies up inside of the barn and tossed hay over them. He then ransacked the farm house, looking for money. He found $10 in Dearing's wallet, of which $4 was later found to be counterfeit, as well as revolver and a battered old watch. He also managed to find $3 in Miss Dolan's purse but that was all. Probst then used Dearing's razor to shave off his beard and exchanged clean clothes and boots for his own blood-soaked apparel. After that, he ate some bread and butter and then went to his room for a nap. He slept peacefully, unconcerned about the murders, and before leaving the farm, he took the time to feed the dogs and chickens and the put out feed for the horses and the cow in the barn, just steps away from where the bodies of the Dearing family lay stiffening under the hay. Only one of the children survived the massacre. Willie Dearing, the oldest son, had gone to stay with friends a few days before the crime occurred.

After feeding the animals, Probst leisurely strolled away and spent the next few days on the streets. Neighbors came to the farm on the day after the murders and found the bodies of the family in the barn. They notified the police, who had little trouble tracking down Probst. He had sold Dearing's revolver to a bartender and his watch to a jeweler. On April 12, five days after Philadelphia's first mass murder, he was arrested by a single policeman while drinking in a tavern at 23rd and Market Streets. He surrendered without a fight.

At first, the killer protested his innocence but the evidence against him was so strong that at the end of his trial on May 1, the jury took only 20 minutes to find him guilty. He was executed on June 8 but before this occurred, he made a complete confession of his crimes. Strangely, even after death, Anton Probst has remained in Philadelphia. Following his execution, his body was delivered to the medical college, where it was dissected. His mounted skeleton then went on display in the museum of the college, which still operates today. It was a strange and macabre (although perhaps fitting) ending for this vicious killer.

7 Lesser Known Loons From Past and Present

THE FIRST CRAZY BASTARD WE WILL EXAMINE IN THIS ONGOING SERIES IS A SQUIRE NAMED JOHN MYTTON

John Mytton was certainly one of the looniest of all British eccentrics throughout history. Born in 1796 and having died in 1834, Mytton was also known during his time as Squire Mytton, or preferably, "Mad Jack" Mytton.

John's father died when he was just two years old, leaving little "Mad Jack" his property at Halston Hall in Shropshire. Plus, he inherited a large extent of land. Some theorize that it was John's lack of parental guidance combined with his inherited wealth that caused John to be kind of nutty through his childhood and later adult years.

Mytton seemed to delight in producing havoc in the schools he was to be educated at. Mytton was expelled after only a year at Westminster School for fighting his teachers. Then, he was sent to Harrow School where he only lasted three days. Forced to be privately educated, John pulled a practical joke on his tutor. He thought it humorous to coax a large horse up the steps to the bedroom that John and the tutor shared. From what I've researched, John forced the tutor to share the bedroom with the horse and himself for quite some time. He later went to Cambridge University, where he arrived with 2,000 bottles of wine. Why? He said it was to help sustain him during his studies. Of course, he later left Cambridge without graduating, finding life there too boring.

Mytton spent some time in the army before coming into his full inheritance at 21, gaining the obligations and duties of country squire. Apparently though, his time spent in the army did not infuse him with much discipline.

John Mytton was remembered for his fondness of hunting and wild carriage rides. "Mad Jack" Mytton would drive his gig, like a speeding torpedo, towards a rabbit hole just to see if his carriage would turn over. In one incident, John once tested to see if his carriage could ramp over a tollgate. I imagine that proved exciting for the toll collector. Most likely, he soiled his pants.

Often, Mad Jack would race around dangerous country roads in a four horse gig, whipping across the crossroads and speeding 'round hairpin corners with great joy and no concern for others or him. Oddly enough, Mytton never received any serious injuries from these escapades. He was quoted as enjoying the accidents he had.

In one anecdote, Mytton was driving his four horse carriage with a new companion, of whom Mad Jack inquired whether he had ever been upset in a gig. "No", the man replied "Thank God, I have never been upset in one". "What!!" cried Mytton, "What a damn slow fellow you must have been all your life!" and promptly drove the gig up a sloping bank at full speed tipping himself and his passenger out.

Once, John Mytton asked the local parson and doctor to his Halston estate. After enjoying dinner and quiet conversation, the parson and doctor both commenced to leave. As his guests left on horseback, Mad Jack quickly donned a highwayman's clothing and mask. He also grabbed a pair of pistols before starting out on a round-a-bout, circuitous route where he abruptly met them at the edge of his estate. There, he fired his pistols over his head and shouted, "Stand and deliver!" Mytton would later relate the story to his peers with much glee, describing the parson and the doctor as "galloping for their lives, with himself, hard at their heels."

Another time, "Mad Jack" came to a dinner party at Halston Hall, riding a bear. He attempted to encourage the bear to go faster by givin' it a little kick with his spur. The bear responded by biting his calf. Charles James Apperley, John Mytton’s biographer, described the episode this way: "He once rode this bear into his drawing-room, in full hunting costume. The bear carried him quietly for a time; but on being pricked by the spur, he bit his rider through the calf of his leg." Even though the bear bit Mytton, Mytton kept the bear as a pet and named it Nell. Later, the bear took some serious bites out of one of his servants and good 'ol "Mad Jack" had it killed. What jolly fun had by all.

Mytton frequently engaged in dog fights, gambling on the games between bulldogs, mastiffs and terriers. He also would enjoy biting fighting dogs with his own teeth. Witnesses said, at times, Mytton would be standing upright, with a mastiff held in his jaws, holding it there, hands free. After erupting into a jealous rage with his wife (strange that anyone would marry him) he is rumored to have tossed his wife's dog into the fire, burning it to death.

Speaking of fire, Mytton was staying in France and was having a hard time with the hiccups. He announced, “Damn this hiccup, but I'll frighten them away." His solution? Why he set his shirt on fire, of course. Lucky for him, his friends and servants were there to put out the flames before he acquired serious burns. After that, he said, "The hiccup is gone, by God!" Naked, he slipped into bed and quoted a quote from the Greek, Sophocles, before falling quietly to sleep.

John Mytton was married in his lifetime.... twice. Hard to believe, given his zest for life. Or apparent zest for suicide attempts. Heh heh. The first wife died just after two years of marriage. The second left him after two years of marriage. What took her so long? Better yet, why did she go ahead with the ceremony in the first place, I wonder. Later, he paid 500 pounds to a very attractive woman so that she would be his companion. They spent 2 happy years together before he returned to England in 1834. He was in bad health, at the time of his return.

In the end, "Mad Jack" Mytton died in King Bench Prison. He had been jailed due to owing so much to his creditors. It is said he died there as a result of alcohol poisoning.

“Mad Jack” Mytton lived life with a fervor rarely seen amongst the majority of us. Raise your glass of the good stuff and offer a festive, wild-eyed toast to the eccentric Squire Mytton and pray you’ll never have to ride in a carriage with anyone like him.

CHEERS