Mary
Huerter
In principle, I have
trouble stirring up much negative sentiment toward the age-old high school
practice of writing on the bathroom wall.
At their best, these scribblings are an extremely valuable part of our
society.
We live a life ruled by
the iron fist of a self-appointedly infallible and practically anonymous
committee abiding unswervingly by the rules they will only reluctantly admit to
having written.
The etchings on these
communal walls provide the oppressed masses with an anonymous and, as such, a
virtually unpunishable method of communication a source of information;
encouragement; solidarity.
Seen in the light of this
noble, if slightly far-fetched, role, the writings on those familiar stall
walls are indispensable to the society that we as students strive so
relentlessly to maintain. If, in
this context, the stall wall finds itself taking on more importance than you
feel it deserves, don't dismay.
Just because the writing
on the bathroom wall might not be capable of fulfilling its previously
purported role as a significant vehicle of cultural survival doesn't mean that
it has to be completely devoid of positive impact.
The wall can still
represent to the intellectual a forum; to the performer a stage; to the artist
a canvas; to the controversial a mediator; to the unheard a voice; to the
passer-by a source of momentary entertainment.
If nothing else, it's a
nice place for the posting of useless facts, bad jokes, and misquotations that
our beloved Student Board has seemingly perfected.
Unfortunately, as I have
recently found, the wall writings have begun to digress significantly from
their progressive potential.
During a recent browsing of the Marian restrooms, I learned that, "all
frosh are lesbians."
Initially, as my Theater
Seminar 1 class will I am sure willingly attest, I was rather confounded at
the thought that out of under 800 girls, almost 200 of them should be
homosexual. Not only that, but
that all 200 said homosexuals should be in the same class, the youngest class
at Marian, no less.
I needn't even mention the
fact that at 14 or 15 I confess, at 18 many of us have such a warped and
underdeveloped sense of sexuality that it is hardly fair to declare with
certainty that we are any sort of osexual.
I was quickly informed
that this was not intended as a factual statement on the sexual orientation of
the freshman class, but was rather a highly misleading and derogatory comment
directed at the freshman, some of whom I have come enjoy quite a bit.
I was at first, and
admittedly am still, rather confused at where the insult lies, and secondly
stunned and saddened at the misuse of a mode of communication as valuable as
the bathroom wall.
Rather than end by yet
again doing injustice to the multifaceted medium by trying to explain a
potential that is unlimited as we are creative, I'll try to skin this cat from
the perspective of someone who enjoys a good insult as much as the next cruel,
unusual, and irrationally judgmental guy.
Here goes nothing.
Now girls, you know I
enjoy a good insult as much as the next cruel, unusual, and irrationally
judgmental guy, but you have to admit, this is getting a little out of hand.
Before we get into it
though, I may as well make sure we are seeing eye to eye on what an insult is
and just what makes an insult good.
The first part, what
constitutes an insult, is simple enough.
I guess it is important to note an insult is a noun, not a
person-place-or-thing noun, more an idea noun, but insult is a verb. I think that is interesting, kind
of. Probably, it wasn't that
important to note that.
What really is important
to note is that one of the key points about insults is that they are supposed
to be insulting. I feel like this
is a point that demands reiteration: an insult should be insulting, clearly,
definitely, ruthlessly, painfully, cruelly, demeaningly, exclusively,
unquestionably insulting.
This, really, is where it
seems comments like "all frosh are lesbians" stop holding much water as
insults. Let me explain.
I don't know a terribly
large number of lesbians. What I
do know a lot of are heterosexual girls.
Some of them aren't that nice or fun at all. Therefore, when I read, "all frosh are lesbians," my train
of thought goes something like this, "Hmpph. That's strange.
I wonder what are the chances of something like that happening. That's got to be one monstrous
probability problem. I like
probability. I especially like
when people get frustrated with probability problems and start to cry. I like seeing people cry. I like making people cry. I like insults that make people
cry. Eureka! Maybe it wasn't meant as a truth about
the freshman class, maybe this moron of an author meant it as an insult to all
of the freshman. Why would anyone
want to insult all of the freshman? Some of them are nice. Well, maybe they meant it as a
compliment, because, after all, I don't know too many lesbians but I do know a
lot of girls who aren't lesbians, and some of them are mean. Maybe that means that lesbians aren't
mean. That sounds like a sweeping
generalization, but I mean, why not?
That's probably it. That
person probably just wanted to think of a new and creative way to say, Œall
freshman are kind of nice and fun to talk to.' Yea. That makes
the most sense . . . I think."
So, like I've been saying,
"all frosh are lesbians," is clearly not an insult because it is not clearly
insulting.
Now that I've established
the key insult basic, I'll move onto the really interesting part of insults,
that is to say, the part where I talk about good insults. The way I see it, there are two kinds
of good insults. That's not to say
that I am in any way correct in saying that there are, only or even, two kinds
of good insults; it is only to say that the way I see it, there are two kinds
of good insults. They are called
"kind a)" and "kind b)."
Kind a)
Think about what your
four-year-old brother would do in the situation. If you don't have a four-year-old brother, think about what
my four-year-old brother would do in the situation. My four-year-old brother would usually clap, yell something
like "You're a jerk, ok?!" and running cackling off into the sunset. Very effective, but much more
complicated than the description implies.
This requires practice,
but is generally worth it. It results
in a hysterical sort of chaos that is nothing short of delightful.
It doesn't work if you have nowhere to run.
If you can't run away you just have to cackle for a second and then
stop. The stopping is usually
rather awkward and the entire effect is lost. Make sure that doesn't happen.
Kind b)
This type of insult is
what "all frosh are lesbians," would be bringing to the table if "all frosh are
lesbians," brought even a modicum of intelligence, humor, eloquence, or any
sort of flavor at all to the table.
If you just try, and you will really have to try with this one, for which
I apologize, to imagine "all frosh are lesbians," as an a) an actual insult and
b) having any of the aforementioned, or any at all, positive qualities, then you
would pretty much have it figured out.
This one is a lot of fun.
When perfected, this
results in a round about yet biting insult that leaves the insultee knowing
with certainty that she has been insulted, but unsure in exactly what
manner. When it works, the effect is
remarkable. For examples see
Hamlet or Beth Boscardin.
Now that you know what an
insult is and a few ways to make it into a good insult, I expect I won't have
to read any more bad insults in the restrooms.
Also, my hope is that at
least one or two of you will consider putting this valuable canvas to a higher
use than defaming it with insults recounting the worst side of your
insignificant existences.
Note: I would be honored if the author of the
comment that was the discussion of the last half of this editorial would consider
the whole thing, not just the second half mind you, a sincere and unflinching
insult. Don't let any of this
flatter you. That would be disgusting.