Anger is like flatulence, isn't it?

Insofar, it's far better to let it out in increments

than to let go with one humongous rattle.

Oh, well yes, yeah.

Inasmuch as losing your temper is about transferring that anger to those closest to you.

What are you farting in the face of the person you love, aren't you?

If you ask the police, they will tell you that most murders are committed by a friend or relative of the victim.

They take place at home, in the office, on public transport, in the jacuzzi.

Are we still talking about murder?

At all my hands up, the last three examples were specifically farting.

Right.

Women don't like to be treated like objects.

But we take objects and treat them like women.

Uh-oh, spaghetti-os.

I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know, I don't know.

Right.

What did he say?

He said, I don't know, he's talking down because he couldn't see you anymore, I don't know.

Fire and brimstone coming down from the skies, rivers and seas boiling.

Forty years of darkness, earthquakes, volcanoes, the dead rising from the great.

Human sacrifice, dogs and cats, living together, massacraria.

And amidst all of that, we humbly submit a Tuesday afternoon edition of TBTL.

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