To the Phantom Cropduster at the Shaw’s in Brunswick, Maine

So, here's the thing, Phantom Cropduster.

Part of me wants to slap you because I was at the receiving end of this. But I also respect genius, so part of me wants to shake your hand for this.

Because the move you pulled on New Year's Day this past Sunday at the Shaw's in Brunswick was absolutely disgusting, but also kind of incredible.

I had just got back into town after a week away for the holidays and desperately needed groceries. So, there I was, cruising through the aisles as fast as possible when it happened.

As I came up one aisle and rounded the corner to head into the next aisle, it punched me square in the face. Repeatedly. And there was no escaping it.

The gas you passed pounded my nostrils like a sewing machine. But the instant thought of disgust I had was quickly replaced with one of slight respect. Because the scent of you releasing whatever clearly died inside of you was mixed with another, almost pleasant smell.

And that's when I looked to my left and noticed exactly what I was standing in front of -- I wasn't just in front of the true-crime murder scene of my sense of smell.

I was in front of the giant selection of Febreze. And that's when it hit me (not just the stenches, but the realization of exactly what you did.)

You literally cropdusted the Febreze aisle, took a can of whatever-the-hell scent was mixed in with your brand of methane floating in the air, pulled the trigger to spray and got the hell out of the area.

It was a true "dust and run." And it was some kind of amazing genius.

So amazing and so impressive that I literally stopped shopping in my tracks (after I got a couple of aisles away because, seriously, what the hell did you eat?!) and took to Twitter.

So, Phantom Cropduster, here's hoping you not only continue to have a genius 2023, but also go to a proctologist. Because based on the scent you left in that aisle, there's no way you don't have some kind of issue going on back there.