February 09, 2010
 
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| Cursing, Catholic Style |
| by Ted Gioia |
| 8/04/09 |
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Some years ago, during the seventh inning of a baseball game, umpire John Hirschbeck got carried away in a dispute with pitcher Hideki Irabu, the temperamental but promising New York "Yankee" from Japan. Two days later, the New York Times stirred up matters further, reporting that Hirschbeck had made an insulting comment about Irabu's nationality.
Hirschbeck's defense was truly a sign of the times, as well as of the Times. "It did not happen," he explained. "'Japanese' was never said. I did cuss. That's part of the game. But I never said anything racially. On the lives of my family, that's the truth."
The media debated the merits and veracity of this reply, but no one seemed struck by the odd congruity in implied. We have reached a point in our topsy-turvy worldview, when profanities of any sort aimed at God are "part of the game," while references to nationality -- or other pieties of the modern age -- have become the new blasphemy. Hirschbeck's final statement -- swearing on the lives of his family -- added a piquant touch to the whole proceeding.
To be just, St. Augusting classified cursing among the slighter sins (although a number of biblical passages could be cited which imply a more severed judgment). Yet it is also among the most pathetic: Truly, it is a self-inflicted wound. Instead of enhancing their prestige and authority, the "cussers" merely put on display their own debasement and lack of character. How much better to emulate Calvin Trillin's father who, according to one memoir, was a master of non-swearing curses. My favorite: "May you have an injury that is not covered by workmen's compensation."
My generation is distinguished by a zest for full and equal rights in the area of swearing. Today, the umpires are as profane as the players, the rulemakers -- from the president on downward -- as debased as the ruled. Who can deny that women have risen to a new degree of prominence in this field, formerly dominated by men? The under-privileged in the inner city have also demanded their full and fair share of expletives, scrawling them on walls and buses, celebrating them in their music and literature. The word that so dismayed Holden Caulfield only a few years ago is now proclaimed enthusiastically, it seems, by all and sundry.
I recall strolling into a CD store, only to be aurally assaulted by a rap record that spewed out more obscenities than a Dennis Rodman interview on fast forward. I often visited this store with my then-young son -- I made a note not to do so again -- but fortunately, on that occasion he was not with me. But other obliging rap fans have literally brought their offerings to our door, driving by with their music blasting loud enough to penetrate through walls. The radio stations are currently holding the thin blue talk line against broadcasting this nihilism in four-four time, but surely that is a passing aberration, to be corrected in time by Michael Eisner and other titans of the media.
But the cussers are eventually constrained by the very popularity of their cussing. To their dismay, the four letter words begin to lose their strength and power to shock, once we have been deluged with them ad nauseum. As anyone who gives a tinker's damn can see, there is an undisputed need for new curse words. The old ones have all but lost their potency. Where is that benefactor, the towering progressive mind who will step forward and oblige us?
With this pressing deficit in mind, I aim to present a solution to the clamoring masses, ever seeking new ways to cuss. I offer them nothing less than a new lexicon of the profane, varied, and different ways of cursing not known even to characters in a Quentin Tarantino movie.
My proposal is simple: I suggest that they revive some of the curses from antiquity. These are curses with a pedigree, with time-honored success. I especially enjoy the various Babylonian curses that are employed in the Epic of Gilgamesh. On Tablet VII (or what's left of it), Enkidu announces to the Harlot that "I will curse you with a great Curse." He proceeds to launch the Babylonian equivalent of the George Carlin seven-words-you-can't-use-on-TV routine.
May owls nest in the cracks of your walls....
May dregs of beer stain your beautiful lap....
May the builder not seal the roof of your house....
May a drunk soil your festal robe with vomit....
May you never acquire anything of bright alabaster....
Now, that is some serious cussing. Enkidu knows how to pile it on. It's a shame that the full text of this passage has been lost to posterity, but even in its fragmentary state it demands our respect in the pantheon of literary curses. As a beneficent gesture, I offer these extracts (from the translation of Maureen Gallery Kovacs), to any rap producer who wants to stand out from the pack.
Shakespeare's plays, it is well known, offer a cornucopia of innovative curses, and feature two knights of the maledictory art in the persons of Sir John Falstaff and Sir Toby Belch. But an even better role model for contemporary cussers is Master Stephen, from Ben Jonson's Every Man in His Humor, who offers an impressive range of multicultural expletives, swearing by the "Pharaoh's foot," the "body of Caesar" and "St. George." Or for even greater variety, one is referred to the ancient Arabs, who swore by the almighty powers of the fig, or the Goths, whose oaths attested to the preeminence of thunder and lightening.
Or those seeking a longer text are invited to borrow from the pages of curses included by Laurence Sterne in his windbag masterpiece Tristam Shandy. Sterne, a rabid anti-Catholic at the time of the novel's writing, describes with relish the elder Mr. Shandy's skill in tricking a Catholic into reciting a lengthy and detailed curse. To add to the verisimilitude of the event, Sterne includes the original Latin text of the curse, which takes up several pages.
Maledictus sit in totis viribus corporis
Maledictus sit intus et exterius
Maledictus sit in capillis; maledictus sit in cerebro....
And on and on.
Roughly translated, this passage curses the listener from the hairs on his head to the soles of his feet. With the addition of a drum machine and some samples from the right R&B song, this is a lyric that promises to stand out even when played alongside the most extreme gangsta rap records. And, after all, it is well known that rap artists are seeking to tap into the market for Latin music.
Ted Gioia is a musician and author, and has published six non-fiction books, including, The History of Jazz. This article originally appeared in the March 1998 issue of Crisis Magazine. Readers have left 7 comments. May a drunk soil your festal robe with vomit.... — Ted GioiaThe Babylonians really knew how to hurt a man. Written by Francis May a drunk soil your festal robe with vomit.... — Ted GioiaThe Babylonians really knew how to hurt a man. Especially effective on college campuses! Written by Chrissy G My favorite has to be from "The Princess Bride", when Wesley calls the prince a "miserable vomitous mass." Written by Dan H. I suppose Jesus used what you might call insults: "fools," "vipers," "hypocrites." But these are just facts, or what you might call intimidating metaphors. Certainly Jesus would never condone wishing evil on somebody. He rebukes Peter for violence, right? He rebukes the apostles for the suggestion of calling down fire from heaven, right? It seems improper to wish any kind of evil on anybody except if it could help them, and then it's really love - the wishing of their good. And then, really, when you consider how much God loves every single person, even sinners, how can a Christian possibly wish them evil? It *is* sort of funny to hurl geeky arrogant intellectual linguistic artifacts at a person in the style of a Monty Python skit. But it's funny in the same way that mockery, bully violence and vandalism are sort of funny. I don't think you could call it Catholic. Maybe it's just me, but I think you'd be better off if that zest and zeal for swearing could be directed towards silence, meekness and humility in the style of a real Master. Written by E. Thomas From The Lady's Not For Burning (see the brilliant (1970s) TV version starring Richard Chamberlain -- and an aging but still full voiced John Carradine in a bit role): You slawzy poodle, you pup! You crapulous, puddering pipsqueak! And I note that St. Augusting (sic) did indeed pack a deadly sting. Written by Bob Mosby My favorite formal malediction came from the Star Trek novel Spock's World by Diane Duane. Some Trek novels are excruciatingly bad writing, but I found I quite liked this one. The curse was uttered by Irish-ancestry Amanda to her then-friend, later-husband, Sarek of Vulcan, after he had said something infuriating. It went something like: "May the curse of Mary Malone and her nine blind orphan stepchildren pursue you so far over the hills and fields that God Almighty can't even find you with a radio telescope!" Creative, no? Written by R.C. The Bishop of Glagow went off on one against the Border Reviers, who were active in the area of the UK between Scotland and England for about 300 years. It is a really quite fantastic piece of vitriolic invective, cursing an entire community from the tops of their heads to the soles of their feet, as they go, as they sit, as they ride. He even curses their cabbage patches. The full thing, in splendid broad Glaswegian, can be read here: http://www.imbecility.com/glasgow.htm  Written by rosamundi |
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