My son doesn’t normally buy stuff for me. Sure, I get stuff for my birthday or Father’s Day but not just random stuff the last week of August. I mean, I’m intrigued at this point. I’m thinking that maybe he’s feeling sorry for me and my difficult readjustment to the business world. Maybe he’s worried about me, thinks I need a lift. Who knows? So when I find a package in the mailbox yesterday afternoon I got pretty excited. I ripped open the package and out tumbled this:
Now, I realize that probably 95% of you have no idea what this is, and even if I give you the following hint, you will still be clueless:
Candidly, I had never heard of Jack Vale. But it didn’t take me long to discover that this man has made it his life’s goal to rid the world of the plague of unrealistic sounding fart machines. Jack here surveyed the world around him, identified a problem that desperately needed solving and set about to solve it. To make it easier for me, my boy sent yet another text:
Then, to prove that last assertion, Patrick sent me a video with evidence which I have to say was quite impressive. Of course the last part of his text was a thinly veiled competitive challenge, so since yesterday afternoon I have been practicing and I can say without hesitation that its not nearly as easy as Jack Vale makes it look, but my technique is improving squeeze by squeeze. The Pooter has served as a much needed distraction, making it one of the most useful gifts I have received in quite some time.
Now, I know what some of you are thinking, especially the women in this audience. Something along the lines of, “What the heck??” Others might be trying to imagine what kind of father I had been to raise a son who would send him a gift like The Pooter. Still others might be feeling sympathy for Pam the next time the family gets together for a holiday, what with her husband and son going around making fart noises with two Pooters. Well, you’re forgetting Jon. My son-in-law will no doubt want in on this…so it will actually be three Pooters, but that is neither hear nor there. The point is that there is sure to be lots of feminine eye-rolling going on this Thanksgiving.
In the meantime, I have been gifted with the ultimate distraction fidget tool. It will be worth at least two appointments with a therapist. Plus it has given me reassurance that my work as a father was not a complete waste.
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