Pays De Trou De Merde

If only he had said in French what he said in English, he could have whispered it in some reporter’s ear and her toes would have curled.  It might have been a Weinsteinian’s dream come true.

If only.

But, as my father used to say, “Wish in one hand and sh#t in the other.  See which one fills up first.” Anyway, he said what he said, and it doesn’t matter if he never really said it.  Everyone believes he said it, and that’s all that matters, in a time and place where 99% of the time, 99% of the people use that word or worse when talking about everything from the neighbor’s house next door to the way they arranged the seats at the new ball park, or how the street looks after the garbage is picked up.  Probably the only people not using it and similar words are cloistered monks and nuns, who live their lives in silence.

I wonder about this, though:  When anyone above the seventh grade’s been using words like that, and worse, good old Anglo-Saxon words, in every place but at the Communion rail, do you think that there could be a little, or more than a little bit, of hypocritical schadenfreude being indulged in here.  I mean, these words were once, most of them I think, were every day words when words were young, before streets were paved and we had indoor plumbing in most places.  And no one is too very far removed from that.

Especially not now.  Even if we drive Lamborghini’s we live, eat, sleep and talk sh#, and worse.  Why, we here in this country invented Playboy, and spend billions watching on our “devices” people who make a living doing what pigs do.  What’s clean, wholesome, mannerly and nice about any of that?  Don’t you have to wonder, don’t you, if the place has gone completely mad when everyone from kids to kings is talking potty mouthed everywhere; when every movie, every pop song, and every TV show sounds like an afternoon with a bunch of longshoreman on a bad day, or a bull session on the cell block?  Maybe it’s because we no longer make mouth sized bars of soap that stuff like this is so common?  Why the uproar over one word spoken by one guy in a private meeting?

And this thing makes headlines?  What did I miss?

Oh, that’s right.  It’s a racist remark.  But, isn’t everything else these days; racist, or sexist, or ageist or some as yet un-identified  form of discriminatory behavior, speech, dress or existence?

A bunch of years ago I spent a lot of time working in Harlem, and in some other places in and around New York’s metropolitan area.  Most of the people who lived there in those places were black people, and most of them were poor, poorly fed, poorly educated, poorly housed and poorly treated by everyone around the towns and neighborhoods that they called home.

I once arrested someone who lived in a cellar and used the coal pile for her lavatory.  The house she lived in was within walking distance of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.  She and thousands like her, tens of thousands, lived in homes which were once as posh as the ones a mile or two south on Park and Fifth Avenues.   Until, that is, sharp business men learned they could buy them cheap, and pile three time the folks into them at three times the prices.  That racket’s been around for centuries…all over the world.  And I have a feeling that it’s how “les trous de merde” are made.

It ain’t only places like that, you know. Not too long ago I lived in a small town in Ohio on the edge of Appalachia.  There were places in that town a lot like the places I saw back East; this, time filled with white people; toothless, badly dressed, poorly fed, poorly educated, chronically ill, dirt poor, men, women and children.  How about half naked kids playing outside in the winter?  Now, there’s a trou de merde you can drive through on your way to watch Ohio State play Michigan State.

Trump, if he said it, only called a spade a spade; and, my point is, he only used a term quite familiar to everyone above the age of ten in this country.  The folks who are upset by it all are the nosegay and smelling salts phonies; the “whitened sepulchers”, the liars who are as familiar with those things as a seagull with gurry; which means most of the people yowling about how horrible this all is.

Gurry, for you folks unfamiliar with the word, is simply rotting fish offal.  It looks and smells much better than it really is when in a black dress, topped with a pink hat and preceded by a hashtag.

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About Peadar Ban

There isn't much to say. I am here. I am here. I am here.
This entry was posted in A Story, Hypocracy, Lies We Hide Behind, Poverty, Truth and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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