Who's the Sucker at the Table? [Part 1]
(From
The Painted Turtle, Vol. 2, No. 7, July 1991)
by
Jeff Keshen
"Bullshit! You've taken that word as the ultimate in sophistication and
wit. What a bunch of malarkey!" That was my reaction to a magazine advertisement
entitled "How to Say It."
My friend, Dave, who is interested in the semantics of communication, has suggested
that since "bollocks" is considered unacceptably coarse (at least in his part
of the world), some substitute must be found. "Shit" seems to be too crude and
weird, "bullshit" too clichéd and overused. And "cock-and-bull story," as an alternative
to the "once upon a time," has been overused to the point of cliché. But what
word replaces "bullshit"? Dave also points out that some people might have a
good deal of difficulty getting the pronunciation right. At least he says "b-ullshit."
My own choice, "Bullpucky," is still a little too harsh for mainstream print.
"Bullshit" is now considered an acceptable word, but even the most liberal people
don't like to use the word every day. But a little variety, a little refinement,
a little class, and most of all, a little fun, might make this word more palatable
to our culture. Here are a few suggestions: "Bullpoopy" or "Bullpukey" or "Bullpucky."
"Bullpucky" will do for me. It's just right. I think we should all have a good laugh
over the next few days and then get down to work.
A couple of days ago I read "Where We Were and Where We Are Now" in Your
Brain: How It Works, edited by Stephen P. Kosslyn, M.D. I found some of his
material fascinating and some of it just plain weird. He points out that while the
visual part of the brain has only a two-to three-week memory, our memory for music
goes back to infancy, back to the first months of life. He describes music as a
"mismatch" between our ability to recognize a pattern and our pattern-recognition
system, and says this causes a "frog in a blender effect" of emotions and
thoughts that "seem to come from nowhere." He also says the best composers have
had "an uncanny feeling for patterns in the music that other people find hard to
see." A composer can write music which people can play, but will not play like
"a melody they know." That, apparently, is due to the pattern-recognition brain
getting confused by the complexity of his music. How true. I wonder what would
happen if I sat down and tried to write a piece of music that was in the key of
A, in a time signature of 4/4 and in a meter of duple or quadruple meter? There
are many more "patterns" in this new piece than are usually expected. For example,
the phrase, "A, B, A" is a "pattern" in the A key and "A, D, F" is a "pattern"
in the D key. How would they sound? Not to a person who had just left the New England
Maine Music Festival and had not been playing in four weeks. There is even a pattern
that I have always associated with being in the desert. One hears a lot of flutes
and oboes. It's the same with "I can't quite understand why you feel that way about
me" (in the key of A, for example). The flutes and oboes just don't agree with
"that way" being "that way." The same with "My God!" and "Gee, I'm glad!" It's
almost as if they're on two different keys.
But when one wants to create some feeling, as in "I really love you" in the key
of A (or G), one cannot be too careful. For one thing, there is that "frog in a
blender effect" of emotion and thought. To someone not playing the piece, it will
sound flat and lifeless. As Dave put it so well, a symphony that is in the key of
A might sound more like A, B and C than A, B, C and D. Also, the "pattern" of A,
B, A can be a "pattern" of A, F and A, or A, B, A can be a "pattern" of A, D, F.
It all depends on what "pattern" is needed, and even if you hear the same
"pattern" more than once, it can sound different to the listener.
Why should a listener prefer a particular pattern? For one thing, because it
sounds "good." If it sounds "good," he is more likely to want to play the piece
again. That, in turn, makes him more likely to try to discover the "pattern." But
it's not all that easy. Some patterns are obvious; others are less so. But the best
way is to try it out for yourself.
As I said before, I think we can learn a lot about how we think, feel and
see when we try out some of these new patterns. To try to understand another person's
emotional life, it is best to try to put yourself in that other person's shoes.
As a result, "How do I feel about you?" is more likely to give a reliable answer
if it's asked in the right place, at the right time, and in the right state of
mind. Most of us have experienced being moved to tears, or to laughter, by a simple
phrase. Often a line will evoke different responses in different people, according
to their age, ethnic background, gender, etc. A line of Shakespeare can evoke
more of a reaction in someone from the "Old Left" than it does in the person sitting
in the stall next to me. I'm always wondering how many more "patterns" there are
that have not yet been explored. Dave, who is a "wordsmith," seems to have no doubt
that there are plenty.
Dave has his own ideas for words that he is sure will be "busting up our
silence." That is his name for "fun." He writes:
I would recommend (not "encourage," just "recommend") the word "garrulous."
I don't have a clue as to its derivation, except that I'm pretty sure it derives
from the same root as "harridan" (though I don't know if that means anything to
people who can't find the S in the T in "harass.") Garrulous would describe a person
who talks a lot, using many words. This could be a person who doesn't have very
much to say, or could be someone who talks just because he is happy to be alive,
and who is anxious to tell you all about it. In the first sense, you could perhaps
describe such a person as being voluble, or verbose. In the second sense, you could
say the person has just the right amount of words.
Well, that's an idea. Let's try it for ourselves. It's not easy to put the right
word in the right place in order to evoke the right response in the right person.
How could we feel about Dave?
What is it with this idea of "finding out about the inside of the box" after
being in it for a long time? As my mother used to say when I was growing up, "Where
have you been for the last 40 years?" I can't remember much of what I used to say
before I got into my 40s, but I'm sure I would have liked Dave's ideas.
And speaking of 40 years, I'm afraid I have some very bad news for you: you're
going to be hearing from Dave for a long time. He promises to put all his ideas
into his articles, to make them work in the best possible way. I asked him if he
planned to put this into an earlier version of his article, but he didn't seem to
see any problems.
"You can't change what's written in stone," he said. "But if you don't make
it into stone, you never know. Maybe somebody else will change it, and this stone
will take on a new meaning." He doesn't think so, but you know, when one looks
back on a speech he has made years ago, there are always a few phrases that he would
change, even after the speech was over. Or there are phrases that have taken on
new meaning to him because he has experienced them in a new way.
In the case of his current piece, he said, "If I don't put it in the article
