Posted by: JDM..... | September 22, 2013

Treatise on Being Offended.….

or: BFD….

Human behavior, whether individually or in groups, fascinates me, which, I suppose, may have contributed to my having selected psychology as a college major. Admittedly, the fact that the field delved heavily into the sciences of the mind and minimally into the sciences of numbers may have had something to do with it as well. Although interesting, math and physics have never been my forte.

Which leads me into this morning’s commentary about some of the stupid things my planetary brothers and sisters do.

Today’s rant was inspired by an NBC News item regarding the rising angst among those with judicial responsibilities and those with goiter-eyes and constricted sphincters regarding the enthusiastic use of the name “YID ARMY” by Jewish fans of London’s Tottenham Hotspur Football Club. The “Y” word is under fire by those who would make the world a better place, whether you like it or not.


To synopsize the issue at hand, the Brits are struggling over what to do about use of the word “Yid” and its allegedly illegitimate kin which have enjoyed a lusty revival by local Jewish (soccer) fans cheering on the Tottenham Hotspur Football Club as it does battle on The Footy Pitch. It reminds me of the ongoing contest in the United States over who is allowed to use certain terms and when, a sport currently dominated by those who would wax pedantic over spoken references to fellow human beings of melanin enhanced skin and black, curly hair whose ancestors hailed from Africa. One man’s “Honey” is another man’s “Bitch”. Apologies to the American Kennel Club.

In the long run, it really doesn’t matter who is offended by whom, or by the lexicons of various “whoms”. Being “offended” by the speech of others is merely one of countless expressions of humanity’s innate game of “King of the Mountain”. There are no permanent winners and no permanent losers, which tends to leave us as a species in some sort of ongoing flux over who gets to be the referees and judges. Followed to its logical (sic) conclusion, regarding differences of opinion, and more importantly, how they are worded, human beings have carved as many as an estimated billion notches designating duly slaughtered erstwhile friends and neighbors on their gunstocks, spear handles, and rocks while trying to decide between SHIT and SHINOLA.

Think of the lives that have been ruined by untimely utterances of such shots across the bow as Hgrmmmm…. instead of the preferred Hggrmmmm…. ; eh?… instead of huh?…..; meat instead of boeuf; Yo instead of Sire; Bob instead of Robert; ain’t, and a veritable database of mouthfuls and brainwaves condemned to ignominy by some puckerbutt control-freak with a “thou shalt not.. ” rubber stamp and a name tag.

So, the British sports fans, some shellfish eaters and some not, are embroiled in a slap fight over what should be the “proper” way in which to refer to their favorite football club. Over on this side of the pond, fans who cheer the Redskins aren’t allowed to date the daughters of those who would change the team’s name to the Squirrels, or something like that. As for the Brits, I could suggest a dozen or so alternatives to “YID”, but each would be horrifically life-changing to someone, somewhere, I am certain.

Funny. When I was Social Chairman of my college fraternity back in the early sixties, responsible for hiring the bands and ordering the beer, there was a popular combo who called themselves The Ten Screamin’ Niggers. They were always booked up by the second day of any semester. Go figure. Today, they’d have to be called The Ten Acapella African Americans, or some such soporific but temporarily PC moniker; day job mandatory, of course.

Ever since our forebears crawled out of the primordial ooze, stood upright, evolved from spinach, or were created on a Tuesday morning by some magical dude in the sky with a sense of humor and a mean streak, or whatever reference will be least likely to find me beheaded in some dumpster with slogans carved into my butt, people have been coming up with ingenious ways to piss each other off, filled libraries with various and ever-changing Rules of the Mouth, and invented barbaric ways to punish those who piss us off personally.

One of the first things that happened when a group of optimists penned the First Amendment guaranteeing freedom of speech a couple of hundred years ago was the simultaneous establishment of at least thirteen Blue Ribbon Commissions to concoct an applicable yet unsolvable rats nest of rules, regulations, and exceptions.

No sweat.

Same excreta, different mound over there, I guess.

“Go YIDs!”

…..or something like that….


~-~* * *~-~



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