HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Citizen, 2012-06-14, Page 5THE CITIZEN, THURSDAY, JUNE 14, 2012. PAGE 5.
“Euphemism’ is a euphemism for lying.”
– Anon
Anon got it right – but euphemisms are
also the WD-40 of modern civilized
discourse. All those pretty white
lies we bat back and forth serve to keep us
from beating each other over the head with
the brutal truth. That new plasma TV you
bought from a guy named Vito wasn’t stolen,
it ‘fell off the back of a truck’. Nobody croaks
in the hospital – they ‘experience negative
patient outcome’. You’re not fat; you’re just
‘big-boned’. I’m not bald; I’m follicle-y
challenged.
Quentin Crisp, the English wit, defended
the use of euphemisms. “They are not,” said
Crisp, “useless verbiage for that which can
and should be said bluntly; they are like
secret agents on a delicate mission, they
must airily pass by a stinking mess with
barely so much as a nod of the head, make
their point of constructive criticism and
continue on in calm forbearance. Euphemisms
are unpleasant truths wearing diplomatic
cologne”.
Little white lies can save you from a world
of grief. Ask any guy who ever truthfully
answered the question “Does this dress make
my butt look big?”
And euphemisms are the Rolls Royce Silver
Clouds of lies. They’re not only kind, they are
elegant – or should be. A politician makes a
fool of himself by appearing in public
staggering drunk? Nonsense. He was merely
‘tired and emotional’.
An actress disappears for a weekend of
jackhammer sex with a rock star? Not so.
They are merely ‘seeing each other’.
Euphemisms can come at you backwards
too. George Clooney isn’t drop-dead
handsome, he’s ‘not unattractive’. I am not a
senile old coot; I’m merely ‘not as young as I
was’.
We’ve been using euphemisms to sugarcoat
our language for centuries. The earliest known
euphemism in English referred to the bear. Our
ancestors were so terrified of provoking its
wrath that they avoided calling the animal by
its name. Instead they whispered of ‘the bruin’
which meant ‘the brown one’.
In Shakespeare’s time, choice blasphemies
were euphemized for public consumption.
Thus ‘Zounds’ and ‘Gadzooks’ referred
obliquely to Christ’s Wounds and God’s
Hooks – the spikes on which Christ was
crucified.
Some of our euphemisms have been in place
so long we’ve forgotten that they’re
euphemisms. ‘Cemetery’ was originally a
weasel word for graveyard. In Greek, it means
‘the sleeping place’. ‘Disease’ is a euphemism
that lost its hyphen somewhere along the way.
If you’re healthy you’re in a state of ease; if
you’re not, you’re in ‘dis-ease’.
Just think of all the guys’ names that have
been hijacked and pressed into service as
euphemisms. ‘Ralph’ is a slang synonym for
throwing up; ‘Charlie’ is the name American
G.I.s bestowed upon the Viet Cong; ‘John’
is a polite term for toilet (or a prostitute’s
client) and a back-alley voyeur is a peeping
‘Tom’.
An even more unfortunate fate has attached
itself to the diminutive forms of William and
Richard, but we won’t go there today.
Entertaining as they are, excessive use of
euphemisms can become a…distressing
sensation in the posterior. Sometimes, plain
speech is a blessing. As on the occasion the
British ambassador to Libya was attempting to
bring Queen Elizabeth up to speed regarding
the character of a certain Middle Eastern head
of government who suffered, to use a
euphemism, from an intense case of Clue
Deficit Disorder. The Ambassador hemmed
and hawed and hinted and suggested, using
increasingly complicated euphemistic
psychobabble until the Queen cut him off
with: “Are you trying to tell me that the man is
just bonkers?”
Arthur
Black
Other Views Calling a spade a bleeping shovel
There is nothing more frustrating than
being told someone is untouchable.
When you have a grievance with
someone, to be informed you’re not allowed to
air it with them, for one reason or another, can
be the most frustrating and helpless feeling in
the world.
In Friday’s game against the Atlanta Braves,
the Toronto Blue Jays were faced with a tough
situation.
The game was tied and the Braves had
runners on first and third. Reliever Chad Beck
faked a throw to third base and began to look
towards first base, where the runner had taken
off for second. Before Beck could make a
throw to second, he was called for a balk
(which is one of the most confusing rules in
sports, but it essentially means a pitcher
attempting to deceive a baserunner). Every
player on the field stood confused. The
announcers immediately confirmed that what
Beck had done was not a balk, not to mention
the fact that nearly a decade of umpiring
experience told me it wasn’t a balk.
Jays manager John Farrell, however, stayed
put. Why? Because he’s not allowed to argue a
balk call. If he were to set foot outside of the
dugout, he would immediately be ejected.
The argument has been made against Major
League Baseball umpires in recent weeks
about accountability. If a player misbehaves,
he is suspended. If a manager talks back, he is
ejected. However, when an umpire makes a
mistake nothing happens.
Umpires, like many others in life, are not
held accountable for their mistakes. So for his
clear blunder in the sixth inning of Friday
night’s game, umpire Dan Bellino will receive
no suspension and no negative repercussions
whatsoever, despite the fact that his call very
literally cost the Jays the game (the balk
directly resulted in one run, the deficit by
which the Jays lost the game).
Surely, after the game the sports media
would get to the bottom of the situation. No,
they wouldn’t. Members of the press are not
allowed to interview umpires.
Last week Philadelphia Phillies closer
Jonathon Papelbon had similar words for an
umpire whose poor calls directly affected the
outcome of a Phillies/Dodgers game.
“[The umpire] probably needs to go back to
AAA [the minor leagues]. You’re up in the big
leagues to do a good job and when you don’t
do a good job you should be demoted or fired.
It’s just like anybody’s job,” Papelbon told the
media. “If I don’t do my job, I go down to
AAA. There’s no room for that up here.”
This appearance of omnipotence is, of
course, not limited to the sports world. Many
feel this way about politicians they’ve elected.
Just last week Warden Bernie MacLellan,
citing the pros and cons of a proposed four-
year term for the warden’s position, said that a
con would be that if the people were unhappy
with who they had elected, they would be stuck
with him for four years without recourse.
Just last month the county’s top two
administrators were relieved of their duties
without any public explanation, and none will
ever come.
It’s like, for movie-goers, the final scene of
The Godfather. Michael Corleone is accepted
by his capos (captains) and called ‘Godfather’
for the first time while Michael’s wife Kay
stands in the hallway. Ready to talk business,
one of Michael’s capos slowly closes the door
on Kay, shutting her out.
It’s just part of life that at times we’re going
to feel like Michael and in others, we’ll feel
like Kay, frustrating as it may be.
The Watchmen
Getting together with my friends is
constantly a source of new inspiration
for editorial content. Over the
weekend I celebrated a friend’s birthday and
nearly reprised a debate about the G20 and the
handling of security and the mishandling of
protestors and... well there we go, I’ve just
about gotten into it again.
Call me delusional but those are the days I
feel the most alive. I love sharing intellectual
discourse even if it does result, like it did the
first time my friends and I discussed that issue,
in people debating until the sun comes up.
I know, that can seem a bit weird. Late 20-
somethings and early 30-somethings are
probably known more for their alcohol and
drug-induced hijinks but, when you meet most
of your friends through classes about
philosophy and modern-day political rhetoric,
you tend to revert back to who you were when
you first met.
I once tried to explain this reality to another
friend of mine who had gone through school to
become an accountant. He said, after seeing
my friends and I in action, it was quite
possibly the most boring party he had ever
attended.
To that I responded carpe diem, quam
minimum credula postero (which roughly
translates into seize the day because you can’t
trust tomorrow).
Some people may find that confusing.
Usually someone saying carpe diem means
they are about to do something rash or
exciting, but the true meaning of the term in
my eyes, made famous by the poet Horace, is
to do what you feel important today because
you don’t know if you’ll be able to tomorrow.
(Oh, and for reference sake, please do not
mix up Horace’s work with the suddenly
prevalent YOLO or You Only Live Once. One
is something you proclaim when you are about
to do something today because tomorrow is a
mystery the other has become an excuse for
the young and ignorant of the world to do
incredibly stupid, risky things with little to no
chance of a worthwhile reward).
Carpe diem, quam minimum credula
postero, for me, has taken on a new meaning
since I’ve put my house up for sale.
I’ve done all the things I thought I’d have all
sorts of time to do in my home.
I’ve woken early every work day since the
house went up and enjoyed the sights and
sounds of nature from my deck.
I’ve barbecued as often as possible.
I’ve enjoyed cutting my lawn because who
knows what tomorrow may bring.
Who knows if, when my home is not my
own anymore, I’ll have a lawn to cut?
Who knows if I’ll have a place from which I
can barbecue and, most importantly, who
knows if I’ll even be able to see nature from
where I end up.
I know this may strike you as odd, but,
having lived in Seaforth, Clinton, Goderich,
Egmondville, St. Joseph (or nearby anyway)
and Blyth (as well as Kitchener and Brantford,
but they’re in different realm completely) I’ve
only ever found two places that really let me
connect to the nature around me.
One of those is my grandparent’s cottage
just off Highway 21 between Goderich and St.
Joseph.
The other has been my deck in Blyth.
Living in Goderich there’s less nature than
there is manicured greenery. Don’t get me
wrong, it’s great, but even if the sanctuary of
my father’s well-shaded backyard, I still don’t
get that kind of connection to nature, or half
the sounds and smells of nature, as I do sitting
on my deck or walking to the beach at the
cottage.
While I’m enjoying my coffee outdoors and
certainly enjoying all the butcher-made
burgers I can get my hands on, I’m also
regretting the fact that it takes the (hopefully
not too far away) pending sale of my home to
really appreciate what I have had there.
Sure, on occasion I’ve moved my meals
outside. Other times I’ve even taken my laptop
out there and set up an impromptu office on
my patio furniture, but I feel that I haven’t
really used what I have to its full extent.
I’ve spent far too much times in front of a
computer whose background is a starry sky
and not enough time at night on my deck
starring up at the real thing.
I’ve spent too little time enjoying the grass
between my toes and to much time worrying
about the weeds that pop up occasionally.
In essence, I’ve forgotten not only Horace’s
work but also that of John Lennon.
“Imagine all the people living for today.”
While the rest of the song Imagine is, in my
mind, a bit out of my reach to implement, that
is something that I can aspire to; encouraging
others to appreciate what they have in front of
them and not always stretching for that little
bit more.
Sure, I know that George Carlin is right
when he says that some of the commandments
are a little outdated, especially the following
one:
“You shall not covet your neighbor’s house.
You shall not covet your neighbor’s wife, or
his manservant or maidservant, his ox or
donkey, or anything that belongs to your
neighbor.” (New International Version Exodus
20:17).
Coveting, as Carlin pointed out, drives the
economy. If your neighbour gets a barbecue
that can flash-cook an entire pig in 20 seconds,
odds are you’re going to want one, and thus
commerce is continued.
However sometimes we need to be happy
with what we have so we can not be
disappointed when we don’t get that barbecue
and have to slow-cook that entire pig.
Sometimes we need to walk barefoot across
the lawn, stare at the sky, enjoy a hot drink
outdoors on a brisk morning and so on and so
forth because, if we don’t, we start to lose that
distinction between owning nice things or
having the need for nice things owning you.
So learn from my mistake.
Don’t wait until it’s too late to enjoy what
you have and try and fit as much life as
possible into the waking hours of the day.
Shawn
Loughlin
Shawn’s Sense
Denny
Scott
Denny’s Den
Imagine all the people living for today