Cursing: for when you really hate something
Published by marco on
There are things that make us mad in this world. There are various release mechanisms for this. A common—and very effective—one is to curse.
But sometimes the thing about which we need to curse is so terrible, so skull-fuc&$kingly bad that you have to invent new curses for it. And sometimes, you have to invent entirely new technologies and possible futures in order to envision a situation bad enough to engender the creation of a language that would include language severe enough to appropriately describe the object of your current ire.
That is what the fellow I am about to cite felt needed to be done, in reference to a piece of school-management software called Blackboard.
The following partial citation is from a blog post titled Christ, I hate Blackboard by davenoon (Lawyers, Guns & Money) that, I feel, has some real nuggets of gold, some shining exemplars of the kind of literary genius that can only result from the collision of some (possibly heretofore nascent) writing talent and a particularly aneurysm-inducing piece of software. I have elided some of what I considered to be the more hyperbolic portions that distracted from rather than enhanced the white-hot fury of this man’s rage.
“Hundreds of years from now, after disease and fire and famine have thinned the human herd to a shrunken patchwork of sagging, skeletal bands of […] half-mad wraiths […] a remote spur of humanity will somehow recover the capacity to speak, an ability long since abandoned by their ancestors, who were mute-struck with the unfathomable despair of those cursed to watch everything they love die. […] these distant people will bring forth a new language to survey the boundaries of their pain.
“On the outskirts of this new language, lurking on its crimsoned frontier, will lie words that will themselves have been cast into exile – foul offgassings within a lexicon that itself stands as a towering monument to the boundlessly obscene, words that will curve backward and devour themselves, each one an afflicted universe in the process of total collapse, words that exist for microseconds before streaking, unremembered and unmourned, into the void.
“These are the words, […] that I would use to catalogue the depth of my loathing for [INSERT TARGET OF HATRED HERE]. When I die, I want my whiskey-pickled body larded into a cryonic chamber, then buried deep in the earth. A thousand years from now, I want these loping, crookspined human gargoyles to dig me up and reanimate me. I will learn their language; I will amble to the profane horizon of their blood-gorged vernacular; I will force them at spear-point to build me a time machine; then I will murder them all with my bare hands. I will return to all of you then to bear witness, in a rapturous tornado of filth, to my contempt for that unholy [INSERT SHORT DESCRIPTION OF TARGET OF HATRED HERE]. (Emphasis added.)”
The second paragraph I left untouched for reasons that I hope are obvious. It is gold. The last sentence as well.
Please not that I have also converted the tirade into an easy-to-use template, ready to be directed at targets of similar opprobrium, that have truly earned this level of obloquy.