Sitting In the Back Pew.

The lineup: The always-pissed Ice Cube, the always-working- blue Katt Williams, and the always-making-that-smirk Tracy Morgan.

Fart Factor: 9.3 out of 10. The room is electric with accusation, insinuation, and fresh beef. Katt Williams wishes he weren't so short and close to the ground. Tracy gives a knowing look, telling someone to fess up. Ice Cube ain't havin' it.

Most likely fart suspect: Not Katt. Not Tracy. But I'll be damned if I'm going to accuse someone who was known to have said

I'm meaner than a mutha-fucking hyena, chasing antelope
Put a chrome to your dome, watch it bust like a cantaloupe

Fuck it. YOU tell him.

The wind in your hair. The sun at your back. The farts in your face.

The Lineup:

The Hell's Angels are dangerous. They deal drugs. They run guns. They kill people. Their farts are also dangerous. If you stop to think about it, it's a matter of simple physics: moving on a piece of heavy machinery at a great speed can only ramp up the stank of an explosion from one's nether regions. Common sense, kemosabes. 

Above, we see from left to right Sludge, Snake, and Beetlebrow getting rowdy as they ramp up their hijinx with beer, black denim (and leather, in Sludge's case), and loud, violent gas.

Fart Factor:

8.5 out of 10

Most Likely Fart Suspect:

Snake

Somebody Light a Match.

The lineup: A visibly perturbed Rosario Dawson, The People's Eyebrow, a grizzled Stifler, and Christopher Walken as Red Skelton. Rosario cannot BELIEVE what she just heard. The Rock was having a good time until somebody let one. Christopher Walken can smell it, but is too respected an actor to react. And I'm not even going to call him by his real name because he is totally acting Stifler right now.

**A sidenote: I understand that there's some unwritten rule about how the biggest star is listed first (on the left), but it just annoys the pissing shit out of me when it doesn't match up with the photos.

Fart Factor: 4 out of 10. You know who did it. I know who did it. The jig is up, and the smell is supplying plenty of methane to the jungle.

Most likely fart suspect: Steve Stifler. Hopefully his little brother Matt is behaving more maturely at American Pie: Band Camp.

Five-O Flatulence.

The Lineup:

Two of NY's finest on a quest for pickpockets, loitering, and seeing whose air biscuit can clear the sidewalk the fastest. And I think you can tell who's winning. Or can you? Upon closer inspection, it looks like the two of them may be letting one fly simultaneously. One thing's for sure, though: if you've ever asked yourself the question "what do donut farts smell like?", you can now rest assured that the answer is "bad."

Fart Factor:

7.5 out of 10

Most Likely Fart Suspect:

Probably both of them, though one appears to have more cause for alarm than the other. He may have sharted.

I'll Clear This Courtroom If I Have To

The lineup: Greg, Jonathan and Hildey of Tirebuck Legal Solutions. Greg's the researcher, a bookish but hardworking attorney. What Jonathan lacks in experience, he makes up for in moxie. Hildey just dropped by to pick up her copy of Variety.

Fart Factor: 4 out of 10. Their attempt at looking imposing over a low-angled camera is undone by someone tossing an ass jart. Order! No, Jonathan, you may NOT approach the bench! Hildey, could you help me fan out my chambers?

Most Likely Fart Suspect: Jonathan is the too obvious choice, so we the jury find Greg guilty. Case closed!

The Sweet Smell of Victory.

The Lineup:

The open air of the sidelines becomes the perfect place to squeak out everything from last-second victories to post-half time crop dusters. It's immediately apparent who our culprit is, and it's not surprising: head coaches are often large men, men with the audacity to fart in the face of the backup quarterback. Further, this coaches' outlook on life becomes eminently less enjoyable when you're in a hot room for 3 hours reviewing film. 

If you look closely, you can see that the referee on the left is ready to throw a flag.

Fart Factor:

6 out of 10.

Most Likely Fart Subject:

Coach.

Mall Flatulanders

If you've never heard of Journeys, next time you're at a mall, look somewhere between the Structure and the Hot Topic. It's there. And their excellent Holiday catalog gives a revealing look at its target audience: teens who like to bundle up while 'hanging loose' and 'chillin' indoors.


The lineup: Unisex Canvas Jacket with Pockets, $39.95; Women's Chocolate Nylon jacket with faux fur trim, $45.00; Plaid Thermal, $24.00; White Fur Hoodie, $40.00, and "Fresh To Death" T-Shirt, Charcoal, $20.00.


Unisex Canvas Jacket is ALL denial. Like he even does that. Come on, guys, seriously!


The trio of women's wear aren't even hearing it. They're all like, "We totally heard you, so don't even act like you didn't!"


Meanwhile, late-twentysomething-trying-to-look-teenager is all, "Dude. Don't even look here for any backup. Like, you're on your own. And I'm in the military, by the way."

Fart Factor: 7.8 out of 10

Most likely fart suspect: In case you thought maybe he was too cool to do something as stupid as fart in front of chicks, consider this: