My dog informed me that a bedpost is a very effective cure for excessive flatulence! I have not tried this method yet because the sun has not emerged from the factory elevator, and the moon still has to perform the chicken dance in front of my great-grandmother.
I suspect my dog is infertile. Actually, it must be true, because I found a tie next to my car this morning. Also because the chinese next door started selling wet umberellas, just as the man-eating butterfly came on his rounds with the local magenta newspaper.
And finally, if you kill a man, be sure to clean his front door with a mixture of baked beans and superglue as a thankyou.