He said, “It’s so fucking cool, you could shit in that fuck, and I’m like so fucked out, man. It’s fucking terrific, you could shit in that fucking stupid fuck!”
I stared at him for long minutes and the only thing I remember saying was, “What’s that again?”
It wasn’t really a question; I was stunned realizing he was trying to tell me a tale and he was using less than a dozen words.
Quite recently, I’ve been learning to speak Cantonese, and it astonished me that when you speak a language like Cantonese, you better be careful with your intonation. “Sing” a word with the wrong tone, and you might as well be saying a completely different word—and in certain exciting parts of China, that might mean getting beheaded or getting laid.
What if in the future, for example, the word “fuck” can mean five hundred different things, depending on how you “sing” it. Or depending on when you say it, where you say it, how you say it, what color of underwear you’re wearing when you’re saying it, and where your hand is located while you’re saying it.
Maybe in the future, the only words that will stay will be those that are necessary to explain life; words like “fuck,” “shit,” “cunt,” “dick,” “boobs,” and “Abner Mercado,” for example.
Maybe folks like George Bush, Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo, or Debbie Lafave might have a chance entering the hallowed ranks of my less-than-a-dozen-word “envisioned” language, but I’m not really sure.
Maybe the human race will end up twisting a single word to mean many different things.
Take “Abner Mercado”:
You’re such an abner mercadochist! I hate you!
Don’t you be abner mercadoing my fucking leg, because I know.
Look at that guy, he’s abner mercadoing on the fucking pole. Look! Ha ha ha!
Frankly, my dear, I don’t abner mercado a damn.
Don’t abner mercado with Texas!
We are quite sure Iraq is bristling with abner mercados of mass destruction.
Flush the abner mercado, will you?
What can be more delectable than Magnolia's abner mercado-flavored ice cream?
When you think about it, human language is getting increasingly streamlined. As technology continues to create faster, more efficient, deeply indispensable machines, these same machines drag us around like those nasty kids did in Children of the Corn and force us to live as fast, as efficient, as “compressed” as they are.
The other day, I caught a glimpse of Pride and Prejudice, a film based on a novel set some two hundred years ago, and it awed me how this guy would take ten million pages of script when all he wants to say to Keira Knightley is that he’s got the hots for her.
While in the Middle Ages, somebody like Chaucer would take a long and winding road to tell some erotic tale like that of the merchant, somebody like the Black-Eyed Peas these days would just merely say, “What you gon' do wit all that breast? All that breast inside that shirt?”
Or in the terse, intense style of my over-excited friend, the entire Pride and Prejudice or Canterbury Tales would be summed up in the over-exciting words:
“It's fucking terrific, you could shit in that fucking stupid fuck, man!”
To take this to an even more unthinkable extreme, maybe in the future, human language would end up having only two words.
Two words might be enough to describe life, the universe, and everything.
I wonder what those two words might be.
For similar posts, see Bullshit Meister.