code rude
Posted on 11. Aug, 2011 by Adrian in op-ed
words > BART WILCOX
Recently, Mark Halperin, a Time magazine commentator and a real dick – I’m sorry – did I say that? – I thought the NakedCity seven-second delay was on. Anyway, thinking that the MSNBC “Morning Joe” show seven-second delay was working, (which, incidentally should be applied whenever either Joe Scarborough or Mika Mxyzptlk express an opinion [shit, I hoped I spelled her name right and that the seven-second delay is on]), Mr. Halperin remarked, in reference to President Obama’s reaming of the Republican legislators over the debt ceiling issue, “I think the President is kind of a dick.” Then, when the show returned from the sudden commercial break that is required by the FCC whenever you compare the head of the executive branch to the male anatomy for any reason, Halperin apologized. Apparently, the network executives were disappointed with the apology, since it included “no Rupert Murdoch-level, phone-tap-acquired evidence of exactly what kind of a dick” the President was, and the journalist was suspended from MSNBC, which is the journalistic equivalent of being suspended from the Weather Channel.
This is a good lesson for us, though, because we need to raise the level of discourse. We need to raise the level of discourse because the people who call the President a dick on national television are always telling us we need to. They could say, “stop calling each other dicks, “ but “level of discourse” is what we call a euphemism, which can usually be treated with diet and exercise. Actually a euphemism is defined as, “What you would say if your mother were listening.” So, depending on how much of a potty-mouth your mom is, you might call the President or your little brother a “weenie” instead of a “dick.” Hold it. I’ve been informed that the NakedCity seven-second delay is working now and “weenie” was replaced by a “bleep.” If you see the word “bleep” please substitute in your mind the word “weenie” and then the word “dick,” which is what I meant to say in the first place. And anyway weenie often means something entirely different from dick. Incredible, isn’t it, our rich English language? You can be a weenie and not be a dick. You can be a dick and a weenie (Google “John Boehner”) or a dick and not a weenie. But you can never tweet either a dick or a weenie, especially if it is attached to you and you are an elected official just trying to approach the average voter, who should appreciate the fact that you’ve exposed at least a small percentage of the flesh your tax money is supporting, so to speak. And if your name is Weiner, again, substitute the word “dick.” Ordinarily, this tweetage is what we would call “transparency” or “full disclosure.” But apparently, these words are also euphemisms for “dick.”
Now, as to the level of discourse–we have Sarah Palin (before you waste your time, there is no euphemism for Sarah Palin) and Michelle Bachmann to rewrite history. Competing to reach the lowest common denominator, today conveniently combined in one political movement, they have managed to raise the level of discourse so high that it cannot be contained in any factually verifiable text, although it has already been adopted by school systems in both Texas and Kansas where the teaching of evolution has recently been replaced by “alternative theories” so that in order to explain the presence of life on Earth the student may choose between Intelligent Design or Canasta. Canasta is the one based on scientific fact. Sarah Palin’s history has Paul Revere launching a shoulder-fired rocket at the British, who were invading us (“One if by Land Rover, two if by SEALs.”) to introduce American rock-and-roll into our school system. Michelle Bachmann, who once literally answered, “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!” to an interview question, thinks that John Quincy Adams was a Founding Father, when in fact he was a Foundling Father, that is to say, a nine-year-old boy when the Declaration of Constitution and Constitution of Independence were signed in the Astrodome. In her defense, she later corrected herself, saying of course she did not think that the Astrodome had Astroturf in the 6th century B.C., when our country was founded on the continent that she could not name, and that she would get right back to us after consulting her Sarah Palin’s Abridged English-or-Something-Like-It-Should-Be-the-National-Language Dictionary.
This clearly is progress, but we need to turn up the volume a little. Our anger is getting slack and lazy, and before you know it, we’ll be outsourcing it. If you want to get good and yelled at, you’ll have to talk to a guy in India, who, instead of displaying his usual lockjawed restraint when you’re yelling at him because you can’t get Photoshop to calculate your 1040, he’ll be doing the honors. “Hello, yes, Mr. Barton Wilcox. May I call you Mr. Barton Wilcox? Very well. Thank you, sir. May I have permission to access your shit-for-brains purchase of the software you are in no conceivable universe qualified to operate? Very good.”
So, get out there and get good and mad. Imagine they’ve released another Fockers sequel. Don’t worry. You’re not going to suddenly seize an assault rifle and start picking off people from the top of a building. You can work up to that. For now, leave the mass shootings to the professionals. Do you even have a rambling 2,500-page manifesto prepared? Didn’t think so. So, don’t embarrass yourself. Just stick to the easy stuff. Like name-calling. Fall back on the insult that is used by all Americans to refer to all other Americans, erasing boundaries of sex, religion, race, politics, socio-economic status: douche bag. Nothing has done more than the humble douche bag to raise the level of discourse, because at least now we are using French words as insults. And I’m surprised, because our anger is generally patriotic in nature. Which is why I’m urging Congress to change the official name of douche bags to Freedom Bags. But what, after all, is inherently offensive about a douche bag? Is it not a perfectly useful and beneficial device, when not leaking or used in a manner not consistent with the manufacturer’s instructions? What has a douche bag ever done to you? How many bags could a douche bag douche if a douche bag could douche bags? These are the questions we should be answering – in loud, angry voices – for future generations. They look to us, after all, the bleeps who started all this bleep.
