In fact, according to Laurello, anyone could do what he did -- all it took was pushing his head farther and farther every day for three years, until he could ogle his own butt. Although the fact that he had a dislocated spine to begin with probably helped a bit. But Laurello possessed more than one talent. He had to. He made his living as a performer, and his whole head-rotation schtick lasted, what, about 4 seconds?

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So he began making accusations about audience members' mothers and their activities in Hell.

He had to fill the rest of his act somehow. So Laurello took the next obvious step for a man that could spin his head about like half a Linda Blair: he trained cats and dogs to fight each other with boxing gloves. Impossible to sneak up on and leading a trained army of animal henchmen? Dude really was just some purple spandex away from a career in supervillainy.

He calls that number "Fart Elise," obviously. He can also play the Mario Bros. theme, the cantina song from Star Wars, the vocal sections from "Bohemian Rhapsody," and even "Dueling Banjos." And it just wouldn't be art unless somebody was taking it way too seriously. See, that's not called "hand farting," you plebeian. It's called Manualism -- a modern art form with no prior historical precedent.

Gerry Phillips
"They said the same thing about rock and roll."

Since "full time manualist" isn't the most economically secure of professions, most practitioners get their incomes elsewhere. Phillips actually owns a gun shop, which is a good thing to keep in mind before you make fun of Farty Farthands, the Modern Fartist.

Gerry Phillips
If he can stop manualizing long enough to pull the trigger.

Seriously, watch him obliterate this poor coconut's innocence with a few well-placed hits:

What might appear a simple party trick is actually the culmination of a lifelong passion for fingering coconuts. Just like how Muay Thai fighters strengthen their shin bones by kicking banana trees, Kung Fu Master Ho jabs them into submission with his index finger. How does he do it without horribly disfiguring his hand, though? He doesn't. After 41 years spent perfecting his technique (he started at 17), he has the permanently mangled forefinger to show for it:

Diagonal View
"It still looks better than my Candy Crush finger."

Unlike the homeless people we see at the park, however, Hui's tree-fighting has led to a viable career that has allowed him to feed his family; he holds a Guinness World Record for piercing 4 coconuts in 12.15 seconds, and in his native Malaysia, the local government has even given him his own corner on which to showcase his Kung Fu abilities. So swing on by the violent coconut fingerbang stand next time you're at the market, and pick up some freshly-violated fruit.

Malaysia Book of Records via Melaka Review
He can also core apples for you.

This man's name was Bert Pichel, and he could blow smoke up your ass at 500 meters. His repertoire included ejecting two rings simultaneously out of each corner of his mouth ...

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"My mom wanted me to be a doctor. Who's laughing now?"

Blowing small rings through the center of bigger rings ...

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And he didn't need CGI to do it, unlike some useless wizards we could mention.

Or blowing rings the size of his head, then using them as halos.

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"Keep smoking like that, and that thing is going to be real."

Pichel began honing his craft out of pure boredom while waiting for customers at his Cincinnati gas station, since common sense had yet to be invented. According to the smoke master himself, who lit up 20 cigars a day to practice, the secret was in his tongue and lips, which he called "remarkably developed." Incidentally, he was also quite popular with the dames.

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"Maybe after this, you can puff my cigar."

But the high-stakes world of smoke-blowing could be a treacherous place. With Pichel severely injured by the sheer volume of giant old-timey panties being thrown at him (also, that whole 20-cigars-a-day thing), others tried to replicate his success. He got into a feud with a man named William N. Patterson, who challenged him to a "smoke ring duel" in a transparent plastic room. The results of the epic cigar-off have been lost to the annals of time, but we're guessing the winner was cancer.

Funny that no superhero teams ever called on the Amazing Vomitus. Probably couldn't afford the dry-cleaning bills.