When I was a youngster my brothers and I would have Fart Contests. We especially looked forward to dinners where Mom would make her notorious (and delicious) Boston Baked Beans, because then Dad would join in the evening festivities and set a high bar for us boys. Or low bar, if you prefer...Blame the parents. Mine taught me it was rude and unacceptable to pass gas unless you were sitting on the toilet; so I hold it until I'm on the toilet.
