Special iTunes Offerings Lineup

The Lineup: The holy-fucking-shit-she's-hot blonde and I guess Chuck, Lil' Bush, and two random actresses we'll never see again in a few weeks.

Fart Factor: 6 out of 10. Lots of interplay here:


Blindingly-hot chick heard something. Chuck is surprised at the accusation.


Fake cartoon Bush acts ambivalent but is slightly disturbed.


These two can really smell something, but who gives a shit about them and their minor accomplishments. Helloo cancellation!

Most likely fart suspect: The blonde. Her tight ass pushed out that air like a volleyball through a keyhole.

Oi! That Stinks!

The lineup: Four over-the-hill "hardcore" punk rockers. I imagine their names are like Donny Dirt, Terry Bull, Razor Gash, and Mongo. And apparently they're not big on fascism in their apartment complex.

Fart Factor: A weak 2 out of 10. The semi-closed quarters of a terracotta alley still allows for plenty of aerating. Still, these anarchists are unhappy about the fart. Donny is upset enough to report this noise violation to the housing commission. The smell distracted Terry Bull, making him forget where he left his reading glasses. Razor Gash wonders if the smell is actually the new mulch on the rhododendrons by the poolhouse. Mongo cannot find his aerobie.

Most likely fart suspect: The fucking fucker FASCISTS! Just kidding. It was Terry.

I Vant To Burn a Match!

The lineup: A not-yet decrepit pre-Ed Wood Bela Lugosi, some unhappy bride, and a couple of married green midgets.

Fart Factor: 9.2 out of 10. Something is amiss. Something is afoot. Something is afart. Count Chocula doesn't like what he smells. His bride accuses him with a disgusted look. The two shawties admire the vintage type.

Most likely fart suspect: The O in "Corpse." Just look at that dilated thing!

It smells, dawg.

The Lineup:

American Idol champion Blake Lewis hangs out in space with loose cords and speakers. Faux-Blake, who appears to be clean shaven, hangs out behind him. It's obvious who made the noise. The only question is whether it was a fart or a beat box. Incidentally, Mr. Lewis attended my high school. My old spanish teacher said he used to fart and cup it in his hands before sending it towards his neighbor while shouting "andale!"

Fart Factor:

6.5 out of 10.

Most Likely Fart Suspect:

Faux-Blake sends the random mic chords on a windy journey. Possibly, they may wind up around Blake's neck. In which case, the cause of death would be fart-fueled. 

A Jennifer Aniston Two-Fer

The lineup: A shrunken Vince Vaughn and Jen in a Dutch oven scenario. They're both trying to hold down the covers, but the walls are already starting to darken.

Fart Factor: Pretty high. Say, 8.3 out of 10. Vince knows he did. Jen knows he did. That's why they're not talking anymore.

Most Likely Fart Suspect: Doi.



The lineup: Kevin Hairpiecetner, Mark Ruffafro, Crazy Reincarnation Lady, and Jen. Clouds indicate lots of little ass-leaks instead of one big one.

Fart Factor: 7 out of 10. Kevin sez, "Good one." Mark sez, "Good one." Shirley sez, "How dare you," and Jen wonders where her navel went.

Most Likely Fart Suspect: Surprisingly, Angelina Jolie!

Department of Redundancy Department.

There's no need to write anything about this whatsoever. Fill in the blanks, people.

Silent But Deadly.

The lineup: Seven of the wives from the polygamist compound in Colorado. Right now, they're all sharing more than just a husband. And in just a few minutes from now, the air will give them all perms.

Fart Factor: 4 out of 10. Driven by fear and shame, these ladies turn to CNN's Larry King to sort out the source of the gas leak. Larry thanks the gods the interview is being conducted via satellite.

Most Likely Fart Suspect: The one with the Zune.

Breaking the Waves.

The lineup: Oh dear. This one is so convoluted and multi-directional, it takes a lighthouse to navigate through. But here goes:


Clockwise from left: Nazi square dancing with Jewish girl, youngster getting headlocked by the Russian from "Snatch," blonde who notices the tagline above her, calm brunette, and loving couple, courtesy of Getty Images.

Fart factor: 9.9999 out of 10. There's confusion and suspicion aplenty in the clouds and undertow– Jewish girl and youngster look very disappointed. Russki searches for the source with interest. Brunette enjoys the bouquet. The loving couple gaze at each other for answers.

Most likely fart suspect: Blondie might as well be whistling and twiddling her thumbs.

The Smell of Adolescence.

The Lineup:

Rachel McAdams and her two lesser-known friends try to act cool while inhaling Lilo's air biscuit. Rachel seems to be able to pull it off, but the other two can't. The other two range from dumbfounded to slightly disappointed.  If they're going to be able to make it on sets, the smell of potent Hollywood gas is something they'll need to not only get used to, but also learn to love. If they can't handle queefs from Lindsay, imagine if Jon Lovitz was co-starring. Or Eugene Levy. Or Tommy Lasorda. Ow.

Fart Factor: 

6 out of 10

Most Likely Fart Suspect:

Lilo.

Don't Follow Too Closely Behind.

The lineup: Caesar, Cleopatra, Napoleon, Attila, and Abe. And somehow Napoleon is the tallest one.

Fart Factor: 8 out of 10 armies. Caesar gives another "Et tu?" speech. Cleopatra wonders how a computer mouse made it onto her chest. Attila the Hun refuses to acknowledge the stink. Lincoln understandably checks behind his head.

Most Likely Fart Suspect: Pull his finger.

"Her bosom heaved, her loins ached, his bottom crackled..."

The Lineup:

A blond God Fabio-look-alike wearing a championship wrestling belt, some sultry vixen. In the Harlequin world, farts become aphrodisiacs. The title alone makes that obvious.

Fart Factor:

7 out of 10.

Most Likely Fart Suspect:

Gabriel's massive chest rippled, bulged, and...I'm sorry, I can't write anymore. I'm lost in his arms.

Pray there are no hanging chads.

The lineup: The one who lost and the one we got.

Fart factor: 6 out of 10 electoral votes. Kerry pushes for a quick vote while Bush asks for a Presidential pardon.

Most Likely Fart Suspect: Guess who got us embroiled in a conflict we didn't ask for. BOOSH.

In Space, No One Can Hear You Squeeze

The lineup: Brooding lead male, mandatory Asian scientist, poor man's Rutger Hauer, poor man's Randy Quaid, poor man's Patrick Stewart covered in scat, and half of brooding lead female.

Fart factor: 400 out of 600 credits. Things are tense on the bridge. An overall feeling of distrust and pseudo-military rank heightens the electricity. The male and female leads hold court in silence. Asian woman calculates how much oxygen is left. Capt. Picard wonders who sharted on him. Rutger Hauer hides half of his face, and Randy Quaid is the only one who sees the enormous ghost alien-ripoff coming to OM NOM NOM NOM everyone.

Most likely fart suspect: faux Rutger Hauer. He's a B-movie actor look-alike in a D-movie. But smell that. That's real.