Archive for April, 2010
“Fetus-fucker,” a term that has been getting ever-more-frequent use of late, is one of those ambivalent constructions that gives linguists and general users alike reason for pause. Is a fetus-fucker someone who has intercourse with fetuses, or is it someone who uses fetuses in the process of intercourse with a third (or second, depending on one’s point of view) party?
Maybe the thing to do is to try both and see which act is more appropriately matched to the term.
Or perhaps we should let the disambiguation occur through a preponderance of one use over another. Readers, please send in citations and findings.
These warring incarnations never cease. No wonder then that after each resurrection I am less stable, less coherent. I endured years (centuries?) of schooling in the mental and trans-mental disciplines, and still their voices fragment the fragile vessel of my consciousness.
I somehow function, though. Confused, distracted, apparently mad at times, I stagger through the world, through disparate epochs, beset by real or imaginary nemeses, creatures surely born of paranoia. Such things cannot exist in a sane universe.
Time lies at the heart of this insanity. I cannot piece together my past in any way that makes sense. Those companions I take for a few months are vastly more capable of rationalizing the events that transpire around me. I wish that I were one of them, although I know this cannot be.
Knowing full-well that they come from within, I nonetheless feel compelled to externalize and personify my internal weaknesses. And so I am saddled with a changing roster of surely hallucinatory villains.
None of it can be real.
Knowing myself, I figured that I would have a negative predisposition toward their music. But I was in a tolerant mood so I figured I’d give it a good listen, perhaps giving some undue significance to the coincidence of their appearing in two media streams at once.
After a few minutes I realized that I was listening quite intently. But not out of interest for this mewling dreck. I was listening for the sound of their skins hitting the stage, their flesh sloughed off by the inhabiting members of Thin Lizzy taking bodily possession of them and erupting out of their chests, seizing their instruments and teaching the audience what rock and roll is for.
FUCK THE NATIONAL.
In my last post I used the word “bitches.” Actually it was “Bitches!” You need that exclamation point to make it a stand-alone exclamation. A second and a half of research involving asking myself what I think reveals that “Bitch!” came from prison culture to the streets and then it hit Chapel’s Show.
Yes, I know it’s “Biach!” or some such permutation but it’s all in the Bitch family (Which is an excellent Americana/Folk harmony group from Tennessee now operating in Williamsburg) What started as an abusive term for a rape victim (a darkness that makes its more innocent permutations more amusing) can now be used on your buddies.
It’s a fun word to say, but it’s spent. Chapel drove “Bitch!” into the ground, and it’s still being abused, even by yours truly.
To atone for my triteness, I’ve decided to come up with some fun semi-abusive terms which we might consider to replace “Bitches!”
Bouncy Boys! Fun to say, has that B sound (doubled!) though it might not be so edgy. Still, no one likes to be called bouncy though there are more chubby boys than prison rape victims, so it might be more universal.
Knob Goblins! Kind of has that homophobic zing that “Bitches!” had, but I see it as pure nonsense, and it’s also is fun to say.
Ass Muchachos! Homophobic (and let me be clear, homophobia sucks, but that’s part of the darkness that makes insults fun amongst friends, though violent amongst strangers) with a bit of a Latino vibe.
Gorditos! Dear Promotions Department at YUM! Industries. This is the kind of Taco Bell influenced insult I can make go mainstream if you make me your paid insult blogger.
Noob Boodlers! That probably already means something, but I was just kind of combining Knob Goblins and Bouncy Boys, and I kind of like it.
Humphreygobs! I started out with my favorite actor, Humphrey Bogart, and came up with a substitute for Bitches! What kind of fan am I? I’m a real humphreygob.
Sasquatches! Sort of sounds like “Bitches!” My spell checker gave me…
Sequatchiens! Some county in Tennessee. Let’s put them on the map. One day it’s a quiet rural community, the next it’s an insult people are throwing around. Suck it up, Sequatchiens!
Which new term will be the new “Bitch!”? You tell me.
He held up a Peanut M&M wrapper and crinkled it. The plastic-leaf rustling echoed off objects in the room. He smelled the fragments of candy shell inside, the burnt smell of the now eaten peanuts. Now he smelled the garbage from the kitchen, the leather of the sofa, and the green earthy scent of houseplants.
He made his way across the room, into the kitchen.
Using his daredevil candy-wrapper skills, he made his way past the refrigerator. The regular, square reflections of M&M wrappernoise demarcated his corridor. There, in that cabinet, he smelled dust and cardboard, and some assorted teas.
He opened it up. Here was where he kept the M&Ms, still scentless inside their waxy packets. Soon he would be even more powerful.
Dear President of Marketing at Mars Incorporated
This is the kind of stirring descriptive writing you can expect from me if you take me on as your new short-fiction writer. I realize you might not have such a position, but the field of advertising is expanding every day, with new niche markets opening up all the time. Dozens of people read this blog every month, and putting me on salary will grant you access to those dozens, and the network of dozens more beyond (I cannot actually vouch that my readers have any friends.)
Think of the awesome power! I just reread my piece and it made me want to eat another bag of peanut M&Ms. I didn’t, because I don’t want to get sick, but you see how it works?
Product Short-Fiction Writer
It’s meta-fiction bitches! Am I in the story about the M&M wrapper, or the letter about the story, or am I commenting on it from another layer above? Well the jokes on you, because I’m commenting on the comment from a fourth level! It goes all the way to the top, and you’ll never get to the bottom. In my way, I have become a god. I turn to my fellow gods and find that we are all slaves, the lowest of the low. Who enslaves the gods? Why the corporate Masters at Mars Inc, of course, at least that’s who would control the gods, if you hire me. That’s right! I’m back in the letter! Now I’m back up to level 4! Now I’m looking down on that! Now I crinkle my wrapper and realize that it’s really not giving me sonar, I just kind of know my way around the apartment even though I’m blind. Back in the story, only this time in first person bitches!
Sorry about the “bitches” thing. That’s trite, but it still sounds good to say. Maybe in my next post I’ll come up with a new word to replace “bitches.” I know I’ve gone the meta-fiction angle before too, but here we are, on the 6th level, so I’d be a fool not to point it out. John Barth can bite my ass!