Humans are very weird about smells. Everything about people is designed to smell. And yet humans want to remove their smells from their bodies, to avoid offending others.
Nobody except a person who smells wants to smell a smelly person’s smell. Except their own smells. When you’re first born up to about age five, you only have to smell your own smells, unless your parents are particularly smelly. Then you have to smell your parents’ smells too. You’re usually OK with your own smell. Not so much with your parents’. They go above the limit. The smell limit should not be passed, of course.
Then you smell your classroom on your first day of school. Say it’s kindergarten, or preschool. And you smell the room, and it smells terrible. Now, you figure that your smells smell pretty good, so you decide to let a big one rip. But it doesn’t make it smell any better. In fact, it smells worse. You’ve added another terrible smell to these terrible smells. It’s like a gas chamber. You’re afraid you’re going to die. Death by smell.
This is your first inkling that your smells might not smell so nice. And now the girls say you stink too. But, you don’t want to take a shower. That’s too much to ask, even for a girlfriend. So you try to control the smells. You use all kinds of deodorant, spraying it everywhere it can be sprayed on your body, including unmentionable orifices. You spray it hoping it can mask the fact that you haven’t bathed in three weeks. Unfortunately, you haven’t yet learned that body spray deodorant mixed with three-week old body odor smells like body spray deodorant mixed with three-week old body odor. It’s a smell from hell. You smell like hell. And somehow the girls still don’t like you.
This is your first inkling that corporate America might be lying to you. After all, the AXE body spray commercials clearly show men with women crowding around them in packs after spraying just a little bit of the stuff on their necks, as if it’s some kind of irresistable miracle fluid. Clearly a lie. So you become a hippie, and begin to go to events like Burning Man to get back at The Man. Your smell gets worse. And all the women that are now interested in you smell like patchouli. To hell with that.
Finally, you decide that enough is enough and you’ll begin bathing regularly. Finally you find a suitable woman or effeminate man and begin having copious amounts of sex. But now you can’t just smell your smell. Now you’re smelling somebody else. Now you have to deal with both your smell and this person’s smell. It’s a cornucopia of smells. Your smells mix into new smell. A together smell. You smell nice together.
Then she has babies, and now there are new smells. The babies are little sacks of feces and vomit and piss, and now you have to smell their smells too. And your smell and your significant other’s smell and the baby’s smell and the smell of the house mix together. You have a family smell going now. You recognize the smell of family time. You could be at work, and you’d instinctively know it’s time for home. Time for family smell.
As you get older, your son ends up trying to use body spray to cover up his odors, too. Now you see why nobody would date you in high school.
And then you go to the senior home. Now your smells are really smelly, and people can smell them from miles around. You’re a lot like that baby, with the horrible baby smell. Baby won’t talk to you any more. Baby’s grown into a man, and has found his own smell. He chose an effeminate man to spite you, and now both of them lisp at you for how ignorant you are when you get mad and start spouting off randomly against “the fags” and “the nigras”. Your son and his boyfriend both smell like cherry chapstick.
Then you die. You smell like dead person. That’s not a pleasant smell at all. Smells dead. people that aren’t dead don’t like that smell. They’ve had enough of you and your smells. You’re stinkin’ up the place. So they carry you to the funeral home. They bury you in the ground. Now only plants like your smell. Smells like fertilizer.
I won’t belabor it any more. Smell is your life. Smell is my life. Smell is life. Life is a test. Life is a smell. Life is a test of smells. First you’re supposed to tolerate your own smell, which is easy. Everyone can do that. (Unless they’re a burn victim, or can’t control their bowels. Then it’s much harder.) The second test is the relative smell. Tough test. Third’s other peoples’ smells. Even tougher. Then it’s the sex smell. People like that test. It’s easier. If you’re straight and going with someone of the opposite sex, and they bathe and don’t smoke. As long as all of those things are going, you’ll be fine on that test. Then there’s the baby test. Now that’s a test from Hell. And finally there’s the death test, where you’ve been through all the tests. That test is to test other people. You’re testing people to see if they can tolerate your smell. Great test.
In conclusion, I find it comforting that after having been exposed to all these different smells, that I’ll get to fight back against the smelly fuckers out there by forcing them to smell my dead rotting corpse. Fuck you, smelly people. Everyone else, have a nice day. Have a good life. Have a good smell.