In Pauperem Saporem
A record-smashing performance
Uncle Melvin! Hi precious! I do hope you’ll mention me in your Christmas letter. Oh no! Now your brain is pushing up daisies and your body is in a jar! I want everyone to know that I’m a celebrity! Whoo hoo! To what do we owe this? After my record-smashing performance I used my prize money to buy something incredible. Record-smashing performance? At the 2023 Feast of Flatulence Farting Fest.
You’ll never guess. This is so exciting! OK. You bought a new tee shirt with Uncle Melvin's family crest. With a family motto? “In pauperem saporem.” Latin for “In poor taste.” Oh no! You’ve done something awful! A one-horse sleigh fell into my fireplace overnight with a donkey. A donkey? Yes, and with the shiniest red nose. Rudolph! Rudolph the Red-Nosed Jackass. My listeners will be interested to hear that. Listeners? Subscribers to the Galactic Pedo Network. Huh?
Getting around Nebulosus Galaxia
You persuaded me that ruling the Galaxy is a bad idea but you didn’t say anything about owning it. So I used my prize money from the Farting Fest to buy the Galaxy. I’m now owner of the Galactic Empire and Editor of its social media network racket. A celebrity! But what’s that to do with Rudolph? My listeners always want advice on how to get around the Galaxy on foggy nights. What?
Duh! Didn’t you know? It’s worse than London. That’s how it got its name. Isn’t it the Milky Way? No. It’s another galaxy long ago and far away and all that Star Wars baloney. It’s Nebulosus Galaxia. Foggy Galaxy. When I open up my foggy night guide service with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Jackass I’ll get my prize money back overnight.
No Laughing Matter
Do you have any more exciting news to share in my Christmas letter? After passing gas at the sound of the gong. . . What? The traditional start of the Farting Fest. They strike a huge oriental gong. A dignified sound that lets everyone know this is serious business. Yes. Passing gas is no laughing matter. Why, just the other day. . . Shut up!
Too much of a good thing
So, you reached the pinnacle of success with your special talent and then what? A new challenge. Winning the Palme d’Tree at the next International Belching World Cup. You should hear me, Uncle Melvin. You’d be so proud! Doing your part to carry on the family motto. So good at it that none of the bars on Bigelow Boulevard want me back. But the library does? Books are boring. I took up drinking instead where the action is. Yes. Hanging out in bars.
Drinking beer and belching. Where you got your start, showing off your new talent in bars. Following Uncle Melvin's family tradition. A long line of male ancestors can vouch for that. My competitors complained to the bartenders that I was getting too big for my belches. One bar lost its liquor license. Why? It was violating Whiskey Hollow's noise ordinance. Neighbors were complaining from a mile away.
The Gift of Christmas: a big noise
So who shall we say is calling? A big-time celebrity. No longer Delilah the One-and-Only Flatulant but Delilah the one-and-only Belcher.
That’s it, ladies and gentlemen. Another edition of Uncle Melvin’s Christmas letter. Putting everyone in the Christmas spirit with lifestyles of the rich and ridiculous.
Merry Christmas, Uncle Melvin! Merry Christmas to you, sweetie. Ho ho ho!