THIS IS TRULY the Holy Grail of missed connections.
Someone in Pasadena wrote this magnum opus, which doubles up as a review of Boyhood and a tribute to the person who farted twice during the film.
The descriptions of the farts are almost as lyrical and poetic as the film Boyhood itself. See:
It had the impact of a baseball bat hitting a leather couch, or George Foreman working the heavy bag. Whack. Loud, deep and masculine.
The author’s one wish? To thank the guilty party.
I imagine the lone fartist sauntering off into the sunset. His work here done. If only I could say thank you, kind sir. You are truly a master of your craft.
Read it in its entirety below.
Just beautiful.
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