Every once in a while a story crosses the Cluttered Desk that eventually forces me to apologize to someone somewhere for their offended sensitivities. This particular tale, however, is prompting me to apologize in advance to anyone whose feathers may be ruffled by the content contained herein. Remember, I am simply the messenger; granted a messenger who offers unique angles and interpretation, but a messenger, nonetheless. After all, you can’t make this stuff up.
Even though it sure sounds like someone did.
A reality television star was recently hospitalized for a gastrointestinal issue. Her ailment, it seems, stems from her side job of “farting into jars,” as many as 50 a day. Calling herself a “fartrepeneur,” she sells those jars for $100 a pop (pun intended) and claims to have netted $200,000 from the effort. Doctors determined that her diet of beans and raw eggs, designed to maximize production and ensure an adequate supply of product, was causing the issues that she initially believed was a heart attack or stroke. Turned out it was simply gas.
Finally, we find a supply chain in this country that is functioning well. Perhaps a little too well.
Personally, I thought this story was a hoax, a satire of some sort. But then, the head of my research team, Mr. Google, found additional content that supported the original source story. If you don’t believe it, you can check out her Instagram page.
Talk about having a business plan that stinks. There are so many questions to be asked about this case.
First, we have to ask, how did this process actually work? How did she fill the jar and get it sealed in time as to ensure a fresh and adequate product for her customers? Is there a certain style jar whose shape lends itself to this process? And did she offer a freshness, or “sell by” date? What government agency would oversee this type of business? Certainly, you would think the FDA might have some jurisdiction, but these jars were distributed across the country, so the FTC may have final oversight.
Does the “product” age like fine wine? There could be a rating system developed if this sort of thing takes off. And Flatulence Critics would finally be elevated to a respectable status worthy of their skill. I can just see the reviews they may write:
“Ah, yes, a 2019 Shiteau Du Pop-Pop-Pop. With a bountiful asparagus crop, it was a very good year. This particular selection has a bold introduction, with strong notes midway and a very smooth finish. Those with sensitive palates will detect a delightful hint of chocolate, with onion undertones and just a hint of garbanzo. An excellent bouquet, which will literally bring a tear to your eye.”
Of course, the biggest question is centered around the sales she claims to have made. She made $200,000 at $100 a jar. That means 2,000 people bought this woman’s canned farts. So the questions of the day are, “Who would actually buy that?”, and “What the hell is wrong with you people!!??” For God’s sake, get therapy before it’s too late! Sure, you say you can “quit anytime you want,” but these are likely gateway jars to a much more denigrating habit! Trust me, get help, or this simply won’t end well for you.
But I digress. As a workers’ compensation oriented platform, we really should focus on the occupational illness that this woman developed in the course and scope of her employment. And while we are not sure what specifically was arising, it clearly was out of the same employment. Sadly, this is likely another tale of a worker unprotected from the rigors of a dangerous job. In a very similar comparison to a web-cam model we recently wrote about, as a self-employed individual she probably did not have workers’ compensation insurance. That web-cam model accidentally shot herself in a very private part while performing for her online subscribers. Fortunately, some of her subscribers may not have noticed, having been distracted by the delivery of their exciting “Fart of the Month Club” selection.
As for our budding fartrepeneur, she has moved on to bigger and better things. She now claims to be creating a line of “digital fart jar” art. I have no idea what that means, but it sounds like something she can do without breaking a sweat, or wind, for that matter. That is probably better for all of us. Except for the Flatulence Critics.
This simply goes to prove what I have said all along. Nothing good comes from reality television.
And again, I apologize.