Once upon a time there was a steaming pile of particularly malodorous
dog shit. This awesomely fetid excreta attracted a stunning degree of olfactory
attention, not because of its own noxious stench but for its strident complaint
about an alleged other bad smell.
Now, one might expect that the most insensitive of noses would yet
immediately detect a distinct whiff of irony, at the very least, given
the author of the faultfinding discharge. But that would be presumptuous.
For, indeed, such thinking betrays a failure to comprehend the seductive
charm inherent to sheer monumental audacity. Noses are routinely gulled
by the incense of righteous sanctimony. It serves as a potent aromatic
balm that invariably overwhelms the scent of pathological hypocrisy, so
that pontificating excrement may thereby conveniently excuse itself from
suffering the standards of measure by which it insists others must be judged.
Moreover, some noses display a capacity to become so complacently accustomed
to familiar bad smells that a certain perverse comfort seems actually to
be derived therefrom.
It is a common and beloved misconception that an accused offender enjoys
the presumption of innocence in advance of proper nasal inquiry into allegations
of inhalatory grievance, and especially in the absence of any corroborating
evidence. But the portent of scandalous odors more commonly causes great
hyperventilating excitement among noses. And, all the more among the most
assertively keen snouts, nostrils flare accordingly at the prospect of
scenting heretofore undetected sulfurous wind. The foul aroma, by which
the conspicuous dog shit claimed to be so horribly offended, was purported
to be the effluvia emitted by a source which had never before passed nasty
air. And so it was that the dog shit's allegations quite excited the professional
sniffers, the noses of official record.
The smelly turd, distinguished as it was by its own putrid essence,
fumed incontinently, great accusatory gusts about said other supposed stink.
And its scurrilous ad hominem derogation - so perfectly in keeping with
its immutable nature - was further imbued with great emphasis by a diarrhea
of the most repulsive sarcasms and sneering tones of voice incorporated
into the already fulsome delivery of deprecatory vituperation. Not that
the shit produced any genuinely substantive foundation for its denunciations,
as it relied exclusively on totally unfounded fantasy conjecture, non sequitur
leaps of preconceived judgment, and the dishonestly selective application
(and oft times outright distortion) of dictionary meaning, to misrepresent
the character of the scent in question. (It is not for nothing that dog
shit has secured its universally acknowledged reputation.)
The professional noses breathed deeply, but then forthwith turned their
critical olfactory attention towards the target of the dog shit's disparagement,
away from the profoundly self-evident smell of the accuser and in the direction
instead which yielded no impolite breeze. Notwithstanding the total inability
of the accusing fetor simply to identify, precisely, the exact nature of
the odorous offense it had so vaguely surmised, let alone to authenticate
any particular incident of ostensible unpleasant discharge, the pro snoots
- self-appointed arbiters of virtuous smell - began their own frenzied
sniffing about, in what they soon commonly identified as "suspicious
air."
While effectively rewarding the acrid dog shit with the benefit of
presumed savory fragrance, the noses unduly discredited the subject of
their scenting focus, which they described as possessing the character
of an ill-defined "suspect" aroma. The fact that there was no
valid evidenciary basis whatsoever, to support the purely hypothetical
condemnatory contention, was plainly an irrelevant consideration. Once
professional snouts are titillated by the slightest suggestion of newly-minted
piquant zephyr, they are henceforth loathe to admit no bad air exists.
No prize emolument is ever bestowed for not smelling foulness, for there
is no salient excitement to an absence of putressence.
The characterization of "suspiciousness" was affixed, by
the proboscis cognoscenti, for no better reason (which they would, of course,
never willingly admit) than that they all desperately wanted a bad
smell, a new one the discovery for which they could then flatter
themselves with celebrity. Though cavalier to the point of complete nonchalance
about putrid odors typically wafting from all the expected places, jaded
professional sniffers reserve attentive arousal exclusively for the novelty
of virgin offensiveness. Yet their capacity for obsession, manifest at
the merest hint of untoward new aromas, knows no bounds. Pro noses
often need no proof of arriviste stink beyond their own lust for exulting
in fresh ordure.
Conventional nose wisdom automatically assumed the vilified spoor to
be tainted, though said convention repeatedly failed - rather brazenly,
just like the dog shit - to specify the precise nature, or to narrowly
identify a given instance, of the alleged malodor, let alone actually detect
certain proof positive of particular stink. Shifting the evidenciary burden
to the accused, the noses demanded from the stigmatized recipient of the
dog shit's exudations one of two things: 1) a confession - that it had
in fact produced some heretofore unidentified mysterious bad odor, which
so nefariously still escaped their keen olfactory vigilance - or 2) a proof,
in terms of negative absolutes, demonstrating naught but totally innocent
springtime fragrance, established to a certainty beyond all doubt that
might attend even the most disingenuous or paranoid conjecture.
In the solitary aromatic mise-en-scène, considered by the noses,
it was a foregone conclusion that some villainous smell was perforce being
covered up. Having convinced themselves that a diabolical air freshening
technique had been employed, so as to duplicitously deodorize the theoretical
redolence, the noses reveled unsated in their prurient pursuit of phantom
ill wind.
So enthused were the snoots in their sniffing about, many predicted
imminent detection of the unspecified alleged offensiveness, even as they
remained terminally vague in describing the specifics of their accusatory
guesswork. The character of "suspiciousness," despite no intellectually
credible foundation ever being offered to justify the misgivings which
govern suspicion, was then further defined as if it were a quality of ultimate
negative conclusion. In this case, the accused was described not by what
smell was in fact discernible, but rather by speculative association to
what smell might be detected were the accused to be caught, fragrant
delecto, committing the hypothesized stink. The depiction was
fashioned in the way that the scent of a typical camellia might be portrayed,
with absolute certitude, as an aromatic equivalent to the fetid stench
of vomit or skunk spray, the obvious proof of which may be readily
discerned in the insidious character of masking fragrance employed to conceal
the true malodor. In other words, a bad smell is evident even when it is
not evident precisely because no evidence of offense constitutes proof
positive of offense. Thus the circular reasoning and semantic tortures
conjured by the noses betrayed their own rank smell of diaper pails and
raw sewage.
But, of course, the noses were motivated not by any useful edified
interest in establishing the truth or falsity of the dog shit's claims.
Indeed, the accusant dung heap was unfailingly spared the least burden
of proof. The noses were impelled rather by their intrinsic function of
aggressive sniffing, and the attending desire to achieve fame, fortune
and glory for the discovery of a heretofore unwhiffed bad smell. Plus they
were, after awhile perhaps in this instance, guided a bit by the fear of
failing altogether to actually discern said hypothetical rank odors, once
they had virtually promised the whole world such would indubitably be detected.
Like any addict who lives for a fix, the royal schnozzles were invigorated
by the simple process of inhalation, narrowly constrained to securing a
snootful of some new-made repugnant essence. To be sure, the pertinent
corollary ramifications of any given bad odor remained, in general, quite
beyond nasal curiosity.
It may well be plausibly argued that the substance in olfactory question
had no compellingly attractive aroma. Still, no specifically bad or even
mildly disconcerting fumes, with which the accused had any bona fide associative
culpability, were ever remotely established, by any honest judge of smell,
to have ever been produced. But that certainly didn't inhibit the dog shit
from further befouling the atmosphere. Nor did it in the least deter the
professional schnozolas' collective nostrils from inquisitorial aspiration.
Never mind that it was dog shit that instigated the fury of hyperventilation.
The self-evident nauseating rankness exuded by the fecal matter was paid
no heed whatever while the pro noseholes sniffed otherwise about to discover
the holy grail stink of their fondest dreams.
Every rare - exceedingly rare - once in awhile, a nose would perfunctorily
concede that no discernibly offensive odor, from the source accused by
the dog shit, had yet been ascertained. Even so, having preconceived a
judgment of bad smell before certifying any particular fact of offensive
emanation, the noses of record remained resolute in their aggressive sniffing,
even as they never troubled themselves to recognize the blatant stench
produced right under their besotted nostrils in the first place.
The snoots, which toiled so earnestly in their foul odor quest, managed
to simply ignore the one overwhelmingly obvious stink completely, while
nosing around elsewhere in their speculative lust. Their sniffing became
so grotesquely perverse that the mere nonpresence of perfect ambrosial
delectation, attending the featured object of their nasal scrutiny, became
quite literally a synonym for the discharge of rotten smell.
All of this thrilled the dog shit, as one might well imagine. It kept
on venting its olid stench. And the professional noses kept ardently inhaling,
the smell to which they had grown so comfortably accustomed. And then they
routinely directed their scent-hunt somewhere else yet again in pursuit
of the never-certified imaginary stink.
No particular foul odor was ever verified, attributable to the primary
object of nasal diligence. Nothing but thoroughly innocuous fumes, if not
always perfectly sweet, were all that were ever discerned. The noses never
once obliged the dog shit to actually corroborate its litany of charges
with anything more substantive than its vivid imagination or its defamatory
invective, both redolent of sweeping albeit wholly speculative nidorous
vapor. But, not being a brand new odor, the smell of this prima donna dog
shit was of insufficient novelty for official nose review. Yet the benign
absence of bouquet fragrance, from the prime subject of respiratory attention,
was condemned as if such were equivalent to the worst emission of toxic
flatulence.
One expects a pile of dog shit to smell bad; that repellent quality
of odor is intrinsic to its nature. But a nose which actually favors the
fetid whiffets dispensed by a reeking turd is of dubious value, especially
say, to feet in need of warning about pathway hazards. Still, the pious
noses of record congratulated themselves heartily on the quality of their
inquisitory whiffing, proud of their dedication to service and supremely
confident in their pretense to olfactory virtue. And the dog shit just
kept on putrefying the air, happily ever after.