Remember the Fart Factory

The rat's nest reports:
On our way to little ethnic kid school M-W-F we used to pass the sewage treatment plant on McCormick and that place smelled, man. So what could be a more hilarious nickname than "The Fart Factory?" Also guaranteed to crack you up for the gazillionth time: Asking, "who farted?" when passing the said factory.

All this has a point.

And not to dwell, but how weird was it when I remembered the following comeback the other morning while waiting for the elevator, after more than twenty years:

He who smelt it, dealt it.
He who knew it, blew it.
He who thunk it, dunk it.

Then you wonder why I can't remember other things. Obviously my brain is full of other really important (albeit temporarily repressed) things that take up all the space.

So what's the point? Dude, I knew I knew what I was talking about when I started calling this place the rat's nest. Now there's this giant hole they dug and left on the ground floor. The nastiest ever sewer smell as well as a million billion of those little bugs that turn into black dust when you smash them are continually being emitted from that hole. You cannot believe the stench. At the meeting Sunday they said they have to collect money so they can start fixing it, but they haven't even started collecting the money yet, so I have no idea when it'll get fixed. Possible cost to dig up the pipe and replace it and the damaged electrical cables: ten large.

So that's where the Fart Factory comes in. I guess you could say I've come full circle in my life. Feels damn good.