For those who are unfamiliar: the ancient practice of firing up a match or two after a particularly heinous dump in close quarters is a tradition handed down through the ages from our great-great-great grandfathers.
Who amongst those of us over thirty doesn't have a fond memory of Dad, Grandpa, or Uncle Tim exclaiming "Whew!! That was a two-matcher! Better not go in for awhile!" on their way out of the inner sanctum?
But in today's Bic lighter-carrying society, we are too often subjected to the modern method of fume dispersal. Namely: scented air freshener.
Folks, let me tell you. Having lived in developing countries, served in the Navy for ten years, and slogged through mangrove mud many times, I have been exposed to a wide variety of incredibly noxious odors that would knock a buzzard off a garbage truck. My stomach, toughened up by years of abuse, can pretty much take any odor you can produce with nary a twinge.
EXCEPT for the indescribably nauseating combination of a freshly-escaped load intertwined with Renuzit's Spring Flowers.
There's just something about the marriage of recently squeezed turd vapors with honeysuckle that red-lines my gag reflex immediately.
I submit that, as a Shameless Shitter, you no longer have to resort to flowery subterfuge! We all know firsthand that nothing known to man is going to mask the unmistakable pong of a recent dump. Bring back the match! I'd rather smell ass and brimstone any day than ass and tea roses!!
Who's with me?