The wonders of gas

Recently I had the pleasure of seeing some old friends. College roomates actually. During the course of our evening we of high eduation and varied life experiences talked about many things including the serious topic of gasoline , alternative fuels and their viability. We of course solved this earth threatening problem rather quickly (you'll have to wait for the book) and moved on to a truly impotant topic - GAS!. Human gas! You know the really important stuff. The release of which causes no end of mirthful entertainment and relief at the same time.
In our midst on this evening was the "Emperor of expulsion" himself. A man who sneers at the amateurishness (good word, huh?) of simply burping the alphabet as mere child's play. A man who can use just the smallest measure of virtually any fuel from beer, to coke, to water, yes even to air to eject exclamations of marvelous proportion. Seemingly in violation of the very laws of physics! Indeed 1 ounce of coke can be reformed into a 5, 8, 10, even 12 seconds of a 70 decibel celebration of life. It's enough to bring tears to the eyes. Even more amazing is that unlike most sports increasing in age does not mean decreasing in performance. One can continue to perform at peak level and even improve over the course of time. I actually witnessed our "Baron of Belch" give an amazingly complex string of evenly spaced, perfectly toned, 40 decibel burps that continued for at least a minute. It was as if time stood still. With tears in my eyes I simply stood and applauded. I will not identify Paul Von Roos here tonight as he may wish to keep his anonimity. He feels there is nothing worse than being hounded by the paparazzi.
This performance got me to wondering why there are no professional leagues. This is a sport that many can play at home and can enjoy playing in their local park district leagues. Just think about a league of mixed doubles where a couple can seek revenge against a noisy neighbor couple. And of course for the great ones there can be professional leagues. And then fantasy leagues. As my friends and I hover on both sides of the age of 50 I think of another possibility - A senior tour!
Eventually Belching is destined to become an array of Olympic events just like gymnastics, with individual events and an all around winner.
Of course incuded in all of this will be the sister sport of farting with it's own categories of odor, duration, combinations and creativity.
And what I feel is most gratifying is the emergence of young talent. Nothing makes a father quite so proud as having a son or daughter develop into a contender. I am watching my own very carefully. One has developed his own "burp and blow" technique of burping and then blowing it in the direction of someone he deems deserving of a "stale salami" burp. He takes a perverse pleasure in striking someone new. My other son is honing his farting skill with the amazing ease of a master craftsman. He has already earned the title of "The prince of Putrescense". Indeed he is pushing me to new heights and will probably surpass me soon.
Ahh, this visit with my friends has been invigorating. It's good to have them around. It helps to remind one that sometimes the simplest things in life are the most satisfying.