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There is a campaign out there to end the R-word.
And I’m on board, that is, as long as we can also remove the following words while we’re at it:
And probably a few others I can’t quite think of at the moment because I’m blogging in the wee-small-hours-of-the-morning. (Thank you, Caffeine Which I Drank Too Late At Night.)
Have you ever seen a situation in which two people, equally inept, try to accomplish a goal outside their skill-set? Have you ever said, after the fact, that it was like the blind leading the blind?
Well, then, surely you hate blind people and have no respect for those lacking in sight. Clearly, the ease with which you mock them is indicative of a blackened heart, smoldering over a soul already burning with the flames of Hell itself.
Or maybe, you were simply speaking metaphorically with regard to suitable candidates for guidance? Maybe, you have a deep abiding respect for people who go through the world at a disadvantage, and are awed by their ability to face adversity.
This is part of the Euphemism Treadmill. Unpleasant things or concepts become unpleasant words and eventually we decide that we, as humans, will use language to “clean them up a bit” for polite use.
You know, it’s the old Eliza Doolittle routine. We’ll make that flower girl into a proper lady, yet, Colonel Pickering.
But this isn’t a musical. People don’t randomly break out into song or take up a new leaf at the drop of a gaudy hat. In the real world, Eliza always reverts, tells Professor Higgins that the whole project was a load of cobblers and she was happier pub crawling her mates, anyway.
You could force the whole world to call children with intellectual and physical troubles “rarefied souls of special worth and beauty” (which, is pretty damned accurate in my book), but the Euphemism Treadmill will just trundle it right back to us, mangled and distorted.
We’ve got to be made of sterner stuff. Sticks and stones will break our bones–so we should avoid those for sure. And words will sometimes sting, especially to the ear of someone with personal experience. But, you can’t go through life with skin made of tissue paper, wringing your hands over the accidental or intentional misuse of words.
Words are powerful, but actions in the real world will always have more power. A spirit unwilling to be broken to bits against waves of human cruelty, well, that’s like a superpower.
The answer to bullies should always be a resounding: YOU CANNOT BREAK ME!
That link was to a Bloggess article. I enjoy her candor. ( If you are easily offended by profanity, skip it, but she’s disarmingly honest. And that’s something I @#$@#ing appreciate in a woman. Mainly, because it’s rare.)
I love this quote:
“As your child gets older he or she will eventually find themselves face-to-face with the more subtle and manipulative bullies who have traded their childish ways of demanding milk-money for the more damaging art of taunting, snubbing, and insulting everyone they can. This is the worst kind of bully and also the most virulent. “
Again, words are powerful (as powerful as we allow them to be) but true nastiness comes from action (or tactical inaction–those pesky sins of omission).
So lighten up on demanding people speak the way you want them to speak (i.e. forced political correctness) and start demanding positive action.
Tell them, “I don’t give a crap if you call the latest PSP game retarded, but you’d better get off your ass when the game is over and spend some time helping others.”
And that’s my take on the R-word and the bullying mania…
The world has a lot of problems, perhaps language is one of them, but if it is, it ranks right up there with the blight of swimsuit wedgies and reality TV.
It’s very easy to forget about perspective.
The video is a joke filled with dark humor, and it is probably too black for most. But, it does illustrate the way it feels to encounter others who lack perspective.
Remember that girl at the office who had a miscarriage? The one you decided to “cheer up” by telling her she was “still young” and “could try again”?
Do you remember the boy who sat in class, staring at the paper while you asked him why he wouldn’t draw his family? Why, when family’s are a blessing? Do remember setting your own son next to him, giving him suggestions on what to draw? Do you remember sending him to the office when he ran screaming from the room, “I hate you. I hate all of you stupid, stupid people.”
Or can you recall sitting down to lunch with friends, idly chatting about your children’s accomplishments while staring in the direction of the mother and her disabled son across the room? The ones you thought, for sure, were out of earshot?
How about the homeless? The ones you thought of in the voting booth when you picked the candidate that would keep those “Welfare Queens” from sucking on your wallet.
Is there any recollection at all of the anchor babies you decried to your friends, after Javier, the man you found standing in front of the Home Depot, finished landscaping your suburban paradise?
It’s all about perspective.
In reality, we each lack perspective in one way or another.
We tell ourselves, we say, “I understand.” We don’t. We can’t. Unless we’ve been there and even then, maybe not.
We say the poor and hurting are being cared for by someone else. CPS will take care of those kids next door. The local shelter will look after the poor. The government will protect the innocent, and only people who deserve to suffer are suffering at the hands of bankers, politicians, etc.
It’s not my problem.
Why worry?
Perspective.
If only we could live in the mind of an omniscient, third person, present tense narrator with a passion for justice and happy endings.
Wouldn’t that be nice?
The topic, #111, the flavor of the day, comes in the form of a question: What did I used to believe?
NPR published a segment, This I Believe, which was a revival of an old, Edward R. Murrow network program by the same name. It was an interesting program, sampling the treasured thoughts of many fascinating intellects. I highly recommend digging up these treasures, because they lend added perspective to any life–though you may agree or disagree with them.
Everyone believes something. We all believe the sun will rise in the sky tomorrow. I would argue that this is a reasonable belief, but not the sure bet we try to make it.
Beliefs can be something weird and wonderful to ponder, but the ones that make us or break us are the ones we lose.
I could fill several volumes with the beliefs I’ve abandoned.
I used to believe a mother had exclusive rights regarding her own body. I used to believe the world lacked room for the disabled and imperfect. I used to believe death was kinder than some kinds of life. I used to believe life’s only point and purpose was the one I assigned myself. I used to think everything was knowable and that somewhere, somehow rational people existed. I believed these rational people were capable of rational decisions. I believed the world was crumbling because no one listens to these magical, rational beings.
No glimmer of belief in these things remain.
People think conversion from a state of atheism to theism, particularly Roman Catholic, Christian, monotheism, involves taking on many, irrational beliefs.
I would argue the opposite. Conversion requires the loss of many, irrational, unproductive beliefs.
Some people may say I’ve lost my mind, but really, I’ve gained a heart.
Take away from that what you will.
