How I Got Fired from My Academic Job: The Great Fart Linguistics Scandal
I had a promising career in academia—published papers, tenure track, the whole thing. But then I made one critical mistake: I tried to explore the intersection of linguistics, gastroenterology, and cultural anthropology.
Translation? I launched a research project to prove that onomatopoeic words for “fart” in different languages align with local diets
The Groundbreaking Hypothesis
The idea was simple:
• French “Prout”—light and airy, just like a Parisian gut full of butter and wine.
• German “Pups”—efficient, no-nonsense, a bratwurst-fueled release.
• Chinese “Pì” (屁)—short and abrupt, a testament to a low-dairy diet.
• Mexican “Pedo”—not just a fart, but also slang for a problem, which is exactly what happens when lactose intolerance meets tres leches cake.
• Persian “Gooz” (گوز)—deep, resonant, and clearly powered by heavy lamb stews and saffron rice.
• Persian “Chos” (چس)—soft, sneaky, and suspiciously yogurt-based.
I called it The Global Flatulence Phonetic Mapping Initiative—or as my students called it, Fart-Ology 101.
The Research Methods That Got Me in Trouble
I hired a team of eager linguistics and biology undergrads, promising them “a chance to make history.” Their tasks?
• Interview locals about digestive health (surprisingly, people in Germany were way too open about this).
• Collect sound samples from “high-risk” meals (the Chipotle experiments were a disaster).
• Analyze fart acoustics across food groups (one student claimed goat cheese farts had a distinct “vibrato”).
• Categorize the “olfactory footprint” of each fart—yes, we had a Smell Scale.
The Infamous “Smell & Sound” Categorization System
Students were required to classify both sound and smell into a two-axis system:
💨 Acoustic Categories (Sound Profile)
🔹 “Pffft” – A whisper of regret, commonly associated with salads and carbonated drinks.
🔹 “Brrrrt” – A sustained tremor, usually linked to high-fiber diets or excessive chickpeas.
🔹 “HONK” – Unapologetically loud, dairy-driven, and warning of incoming disaster.
🔹 “SBD” (Silent But Deadly) – Nearly undetectable by sound, but an air-quality crisis.
👃 Smell Categories (Olfactory Impact Scale)
🟢 “Background Radiation” – Faint, like a distant memory of eggs.
🟡 “Contained Hazard” – Noticeable but tolerable—common after street tacos.
🟠 “Room Clearer” – Immediate regret, often linked to excessive dairy in lactose-intolerant populations.
🔴 “Biohazard” – A full-system gastrointestinal rebellion—run, don’t walk.
Each student had to log their findings in The Flatulence Field Guide, complete with smell-wave intensity maps and time-stamped releases.
Everything was going great until… well, the university found out how we were collecting data.
The Ethical Review Board Meeting
I was summoned to explain why:
1. A research assistant had been caught covertly recording sound samples in an Indian buffet.
2. We’d used grant money on an “international cheese tour” (for science).
3. One student’s thesis was titled “From Kimchi to Kefir: A Cross-Cultural Analysis of the Dairy-Driven Toot.”
4. Our “Smell Intern” quit after being subjected to three back-to-back fermented cabbage experiments.
5. Persian speakers had filed complaints that our analysis of “Gooz” vs. “Chos” lacked “proper theological consideration.”
I tried to defend myself. I said:
📌 “This is groundbreaking work.”
📌 “Flatulence is an unspoken linguistic phenomenon.”
📌 “If we can map the genome, why can’t we map the global fart spectrum?”
They were not convinced.
How It All Ended
The dean gave me two options:
1. Resign quietly and agree to never use university resources for “auditory and olfactory fart analysis” again.
2. Face a disciplinary hearing where they would read my research proposal aloud in front of tenured faculty.
And that, my friends, is how I lost my academic career over a lactose-intolerant hypothesis, an overzealous group of research assistants, and a rogue field study at an all-you-can-eat Brazilian steakhouse.
💨 But I regret nothing.
Alternative Ending:
I may have lost my job, but the GoFundMe for independent research is already at $7.49, and I just need one more dairy-intolerant donor to push us to our next phase of testing.
Who’s in?