Ah, Brother Ass

We’ve lost the art of insulting well.

It goes with the territory of language deterioration in general. I mean, if you use a word like “loquacious” instead of “talkative,” people stare at you blankly and then start to back away slowly.

By the same token no one bothers to be creative or thoughtful when deigning to describe a bore, for example. We could say something like “He spoke at length in vain confidence of his imagined eloquence,” or even, “He’s clearly an emotionally constipated individual.” You’d feel pretty thoroughly put in your place if you were the brunt of either comment, wouldn’t you?

No so with more generic terms. Most of the time folks simply resort to a general catchall, like: “that guy’s an ass.” Which, actually, if you think about it, is rather more accurate than not. It was 12th century monk St. Francis of Assisi who called his own body “brother ass,” and Christian writer and language critic C.S. Lewis took such a fancy to the term that he dusted off the old phrase and used it for himself.

“Brother ass.” Ass, of course, meaning a donkey.

Once when I was a young radio copywriter, our station did a promo involving donkey basketball. I had been an employee for exactly three hours before I was told I would have to ride a donkey and play basketball – at the same time – and in front of a whole gym full of people.

Number one, despite some rather impressive height, I don’t do basketball. Never have. Never will. I grew up in a houseful of sisters wielding curling irons and pom pons, but never, ever any athletic equipment.

Number two, I had never ridden a donkey. I had, however, ridden a horse. I figured, “how different can it be?”

HA!

Despite the double handicap, however, I bravely got on that donkey and proceeded to join in the game. Actually, I got on that donkey and proceeded to join the game several times, as the wretched beast would suddenly stop, drop, and I would roll. Not once. Not twice. But several times – and with no warning.

Ass, indeed, was one of the kinder terms I remember thinking at the time.

But on the other hand, I was laughing so hard I could hardly stand up anyway. And that was my picture of a donkey when I read this passage by C.S. Lewis: “No one in his senses can either revere or hate a donkey. It’s a useful, sturdy, lazy, obstinate, patient, lovable and infuriating beast; deserving now the stick and now a carrot; both pathetically and absurdly beautiful. So the body. There’s no living with it till we recognize that one of its functions in our lives is to play the part of buffoon.”

So maybe it’s not an insult at all, really. But that’s not the point. The point is – creative elocution (insulting or otherwise) is becoming a lost art and I just had to put in my cliché-ridden two cents on the matter. While I admit I’ve peppered this piece with some atypical vocabulary, it was with a sincere lack of pernicious intent.

Aw, the thing is – I love words. I love ’em to the rather strange extent that I have a “favorite word” list. Yet, I am guilty as charged for occasionally sliding down the slippery slope of lazy speech. But who among us can cast the first stone?? One of my guilty pleasures is a repertoire of clichés (I seem to have one for any occasion), and falling victim to today’s slang, I have actually used the word “disrespect” as a verb.

Alas, there are just too many other things to worry about. (Like ending a sentence with a preposition or achieving world peace.) So, I’ll just end this diatribe by blaming the president (if not him, who?) and then be on to my next opinion.

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