It’s an Ill Wind that Blows No Good

Right now I’m so fed up that I gained 7 pounds and I’m about to organize a political boycott of Hannibal, Missouri, a river town in Missouri named after founder Anthony Hopkins.  Sure I’ve never actually been there, but if I ever find myself having to go from Moberly to Pittsfield, I will certainly give Hannibal a wide berth and cross the Mississippi from Missouri to Illinois at Louisiana, even though that doesn’t make any sense.

According to news reports, a man entered the Hannibal city hall to conduct official business and several of the staff therein called 911—not just one or two, mind you, but several—because the individual in question had a “severe stinkiness” about him.  In short, B.O.  And I’m not talking about the Monopoly railroad.

Once confronted by police, the individual agreed to vacate the public premises and continued his errands.  He then went into a number of neighboring businesses where various workers also called police to have him removed.  Again, the individual was escorted away by police.

It’s just this type of hatred and bigotry that gets my goat and causes me to get my chevon (though you may ignorantly think it’s mutton to get excited about).  And in case you’re wondering, this is not just an isolated case of stench discrimination; the town of Hannibal’s municipal code has legitimatized and even endorsed the systematic prejudice against Fetid-Americans by allowing them to be ticketed for a “peace disturbance” just because he or she might have a “noxious and offensive” odor.

I cannot believe that in this day and age, such draconian laws are on the books.  It is obvious that the town of Hannibal is just an intolerant berg full of pongophobes.  This guy is simply an innocent victim of a bullying, close-minded society.  He’s not hurting anybody; he’s just trying to live according to his olfactual preference.  It’s not like he has a choice in the matter; God doesn’t make mistakes; he’s just being who he is.

As one who finds himself among this people group on a recurrent albeit temporary basis (find your own recipe for La Jota Triestina here:, I am taking a stand.  I have determined it is time to start organizing and make the foul-smelling acceptable in our culture.  And I have come up with a plan.

First off, we’ll formulate a catchy name that no one can disagree with such as, ‘God Loves Us Too’ (GLUT) or ‘Equality and Freedom and Understanding’ (EFU).  And we’ll get a cool symbol that everyone will recognize and people will wear on their lapel as a way of showing support without actually doing anything.  Eventually, we’ll get our own flag and color of ribbon that will confuse people as to what it represents.

Secondly, to change the hate we must change the language.  I’ve already used and you may be aware of the customary term, ‘Fetid-American’, but let’s continue that accepting trend and get rid of disparaging labels like ‘noxious’ and ‘putrid’ and replace them with something less violent like ‘aromatically-challenged’ or ‘adversely-perfumed.’

We’ll then organize parades wherein we’ll dance around in our dirty underwear and take pride in doing so, figuratively rubbing it right in the faces of the antiquated traditionalist hygienics.  We’ll then shame them into silence by making acridity mainstream as there is bound to be some sort of constitutional right to maloderousness in one of its various amendments.  Soon all sitcoms will have an especially stinky character and there will be a special month designated annually to recognize the contributions of the unbathed.  Did you know that Daniel Boone smelled like a wet dog rooting through composting fish?  (Did you also know that when googling the worst smelling things, human feces ranks as number 15?  15?!  Really?!)

We’ll then press politicians to take a stand one way or the other and destroy any donors who may ignorantly support the clean and fresh.  We’ll go after businesses that refuse to support our agenda—especially those who refuse to hire the pungently fragrant such as the hateful and intolerant perfume and cologne manufacturers and xenophobic department store beauty counters.  We will take them to court so fast they will think they are a 1-seed at Wimbledon.

We’ll find a leading university professor willing to declare soap as harmful to the environment and an outdated, antiquated idea of narrow-minded fundamentalists.  Their very position will be a source of embarrassment and everyone will have no choice but to hire, rent to, and celebrate the lifestyle of the overpoweringly odiferous.  This stinky guy from Hannibal will be the Rosa Parks of Rancid and Hannibal will be the new Montgomery (even though, according to my lawyers, it has absolutely nothing to do with race, race discrimination, or race inequality nor claims any connection whatsoever with any possible bastardized interpretation of the civil rights movement).

Regardless, my plan should work to bring equality and freedom to the particularly piquant.  We should stop eventually, however.  I would hate for these techniques to become cliché.

5 thoughts on “It’s an Ill Wind that Blows No Good

  1. Well said. But now the list of ‘protected’ classes will be even longer…race, color, religion, sex, national origin, age, disability, veteran status, pregnancy, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression, marital status, citizen status, status with regards to public assistance, bus-riding status, nbr-of-children status, marital status, picking-your-nose status, facial-twitch status, left-leg-shorter-than-right status, left-handedness status, prefer-to-live-in-the-country status, in-love-with-metric-system status, etc., etc., and now you want to go and add an olfactory status! 😉


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