RANT/HUMAN WASTE

While You and I Struggle to Create “Quality Work” For Zip, A Bimbo Makes 200 Grand From Farting

Warning: You may want a DNR in place before reading this

For a long while, I’ve believed that, as a society, we’re not worth shit. Turns out, perhaps we are, or at the very least, a fart or two. Allow me to explain.

A kind writer here, who took my criticism of one of her “sex stories” in stride, passed along the following tidbit to me: There is an actual person of the female persuasion, who has made a ton of money by bottling her farts in Mason jars and selling them to dumbfuck kinksters, online.

I probably should have added a disclaimer that, after toiling away on Medium for years and making squat, this story might incite you to hit yourself in the head with a ball-peen hammer. I know that I’m close, friends. Because life, as it is, no longer makes sense. In fact, I may keel over before I’m done here, but I’ll do my best to soldier on, as you need to absorb this.

The bimbo in question, one Stephanie Matto, is a dubious reality star who apparently, had nothing better to do than to spend her days breaking wind for cash.

By the way, the following noxious info is courtesy of insider.com.

The former resident bimbo on TLC’s 90 Day Fiancé sells her malodorous “product” for 0.05 Ethereum, which, in regular person speak and not crypto, translates to 1,074.46. Yes! I’m not putting you on here although I wish to hell I was.

This brainless twat is selling her farts for over a grand per jar. And, there is no shortage of buyers.

One repeat customer, a 43-year-old financier, who spent $1,000 on two fart jars, (on sale!) explained that it helped him feel a sense of “closeness” to Matto. “I have a lot of fetishes and one of them is that I like the smell of a woman,” he said. “I like all of the smells.”

Just another arsehat with more money than brains. I’d pay to watch somebody kick his keyster around the block a few times.

Anyone?

Now, I have to imagine that the rush from Matto’s trombones is brief. I mean, how long can a fart stay in a jar, once opened?

Given that, the douchebags shelling out big bucks for what amounts to fleeting flatulence are even more dimwitted than one would initially think.

Yes. We are doomed.

Matto, who started tooting for dollars as an “experiment,” sells her stink on an adults-only, fan subscription platform similar to OnlyFans.

You might wonder how this titular wunderkind gasses up for her legions of fans.

Diet, folks. Lots of protein shakes and beans up the ass. So much fuel, in fact, that doctors told her she was putting an inordinate amount of stress on her body.

Awesome! I hope she blows herself up!

You know, I’m making light of this piece, but I have to tell you, the more I write, the angrier I’m getting.

What the ever-loving-fuck is wrong with us?

How is this possible? That there are hard-working folks everywhere we look, holding down a job or two jobs — real jobs — and struggling to make ends meet, while human waste like this cleans up by shoving her butthole in a jar and emitting the stench of whatever rotting food she shoveled into her maw?

Along with her fart jars, Matto often incorporates “bonus gifts” like signed lingerie and “very rare” physical fart jars.

I can only imagine what those are. “Sharts,” perhaps?

From what I can tell, Matto has a decent face and big tits. Hey, that’s enough, right, gals? We ought to know that by now. I can’t help but wonder if her farts would take off if she looked like five miles of bad road. Something tells me she’d have a harder time making bank were she fugly.

Just for clarification, to the confused among us, an attractive woman’s farts are no less unappealing than those that emanate from the anus of a plainer woman.

All farts, stink, okay? Get it through your thick heads that a fart, by design, is not meant to smell like Dior J’Adore. Not gonna happen.

And for those of you who enjoy the putrid smell of farts and would actually consider adding to Matter’s coffers by purchasing a jar of stink, you have a problem. No. Worse than that. You’re a fuckwit who needs to be shipped off to a place where the rest of us would never have to hear from you again.

Hmmm. I wonder if the bimbo has tried lighting her farts! You know, that old tried and true trick attempted by dumb school boys everywhere. Well, I don’t know about “everywhere.” In the U.S., at least. We’re known for shit like that, no?

And Stephanie Matto is just one more blot on an already splooged-upon landscape of influencers, unfluencers, course-peddlers, workshop hustlers, “life coaches,” and all manner of bullshit artists who know suckers when they see them.

“Hey, Steph. Take my advice because if there’s a shred of justice left in this world, you’re going to need it some day. Get a job, yeah? A real job. You know what that is, don’t you? One that requires you to actually think. As opposed to farting into Mason jars. But, something tells me that you’re too far gone for that. By the way, my sympathy to your parents.”

For you folks with daughters, imagine them emulating this nitwit. If you have a stash of Mason jars for canning tomatoes and such, make sure to keep track of them. The last thing you want to do is walk into your little girl’s room to find her backing up the truck into one of those jars. You’ll have nightmares for months.

Finally, in an attempt to diversify, Matto shifted from selling her farts to selling jars of boob sweat. I shit you not, people. The bimbo told TMZ that she was raking in five grand a day from this latest venture merely by laying in her pool and sweating.

However, this particular affront to everything that’s holy screeched to a halt when a sizeable bear ambled into Matto’s backyard sending the sweaty fartmeister back indoors and back to the drawing board.

It’s a shame that bear didn’t make a meal out of Matto. I’m guessing the stench was too much.

© Sherry McGuinn, 2022. All Rights Reserved.

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Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. She is currently pitching her newest screenplay, “The Month We Fell Apart,” a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story, as well as “DEAD TIRED,” a female-driven, ass-kicking thriller.