Skip to main content

It belongs to human nature to hate those you have injured.


Young people today! The corner of New Town Road and St Johns Avenue, September 2010.

Theme Thursday yet again, and my, how appropriate is the theme today! Yes people, we are gripped by ENNUI. Well may you scoff at the notion of being engrossed in your own listlessness, but modern life is just like that sometimes.

Look at the graffiti above. Consider the written expression. Are the authors likely to be dynamic and enthusiastic members of their local community? They can’t spell “sucks” and they forsake the Australian “arse” for the bastardised American “ass”. If that does not tell you something about the state of their melancholy, nothing will!

Taken as a whole, the message is unclear.
PiGS SUX COCK ASS

Now, I could be generous and presume that our wanton vandals are actually intrepid young veterinary students positing a revolutionary new procedure for our porcine friends. Indeed, we might postulate that PiGS SUX [meaning suxamethonium chloride] COCK ASS refers to some kind of surgical procedure involving donkeys, roosters and large amounts of a drug that induces muscle relaxation and short-term paralysis.

Knowing that pigs organs have great potential for use in humans, we might propose another explanation. Perhaps the COCK does not refer at all to roosters. I am told by sources that the word COCK in some contexts is employed as a colloquial term for the male sexual organ. If we accept this hypothesis, then perhaps, just perhaps, the suxamethonium chloride is necessary to transplant the donkey penis onto the pig, with the eventual goal of liberating men from the terrors of an undernourished penis. A quick scan of my spam mailbox tells me that there might just be a market for it!

However, am reticent to believe this, as although the prospect of harnessing the power of the donkey phallus would have its backers, the ethics approval for this kind of experiment would be very difficult to achieve. Especially in Tasmania, where the donkey has a wide range of civil liberties enshrined in law,

No, the simplest explanation is probably correct: ENNUI. Boredom and disenchantment. A poor grasp of syntax and sentence structure. Some kind of crude, poorly spelled and anatomically impossible sexual allusion involving the long hand of the law.

Sigh.

[See, the problem with ENNUI is that you really can't be FENCEd in once it takes hold...]

Comments

Roddy said…
What exactly did you say you do in your new job? Obviously it grants you an excess of idle time to be able to digest the workings of the basest of males. Then again it could possibly be female with a gender problem.
Back to the beginning though. This form of expression has been around for longer than you and I. As long as there is a blank space and a mindless thought then some moron is going to want to express their self. It's human nature!
lettuce said…
glad to hear the donkey's rights are being respected
JeffScape said…
Hah! This is great.

Perhaps the "x" was an inebriated attempt at a "y" and we're meant to read "PiGSSUY," leaving us to wonder which East Asian language "piggsuy" comes from?

This reminds me of a scene from Life of Brian.
Kris McCracken said…
Roddy. what do I do in my new job? I save lives.

Lettuce, they’ll get the vote soon.

JeffScape, when you work directly above both a detox unit and very large opioid pharmacotherapy clinic, life often resembles The Life of Brian.
Nanc Twop said…
One of those words could be an innocent ad for this soup. But you're right; its much more likely to be ennui vs. soup...

Very original post!
Roddy said…
That theoretically is what you did in your last job. For a bit less money though.
I know that you have a place in the grand scheme. However I sometimes wonder if it is at all worth it. These people really don't want help, just more drugs. You know that.
Gladys said…
Cock ass. Does this mean that the pig has had it's male organ re-attached to a rooster rear end by means of suction? I'm so confused by the syntax and translation. I'm afraid I only speak Texas where it would be hogs suck and a cock's ass. Which of course would refer to suckling pigs and a rooster's beast of burden. Wait that doesn't make sense either.
Kris McCracken said…
Nanc, one never knows in this life!

Roddy, I’m all about influencing people’s behaviour and choices LONG before they even think about drugs…

Gladys, you could well be onto something…

Popular posts from this blog

If you want to be loved, be lovable.

Henry admires the view.

Zeal, n. A certain nervous disorder afflicting the young and inexperienced. A passion that goeth before a sprawl.

Here I have tried my hand at the homemade sepia-toned photo. I wasn’t happy with the way that the sun had washed out some of the colours in the original, so had a bit of a fiddle because I like the look on Henry’s face, and didn’t want to pass on posting it. I have a tip for those of you burdened with the great, unceasing weight of parenthood. I have a new recipe, in the vein of the quick microwaved chocolate cake . Get this, microwaved potato chips . I gave them a run on Sunday, Henry liked the so much I did it again last night. Tonight, I shall be experimenting with sweet potato. I think that the ground is open for me to exploit opportunities in the swede, turnip, carrot and maybe even explore in the area of pumpkins. Radical, I know. I’m a boundary-pusher by nature. It's pretty simple, take the potato. Slice it thinly (it doesn't have to be too thin, but thin enough). Lay the slices on the microwave plate, whack a bit of salt over the top and nuke the buggers for five minut

Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it...

I still have the robot on the job. Here you can see the Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery . And here is a poem: Soliloquy for One Dead Bruce Dawe Ah, no, Joe, you never knew the whole of it, the whistling which is only the wind in the chimney's smoking belly, the footsteps on the muddy path that are always somebody else's. I think of your limbs down there, softly becoming mineral, the life of grasses, and the old love of you thrusts the tears up into my eyes, with the family aware and looking everywhere else. Sometimes when summer is over the land, when the heat quickens the deaf timbers, and birds are thick in the plumbs again, my heart sickens, Joe, calling for the water of your voice and the gone agony of your nearness. I try hard to forget, saying: If God wills, it must be so, because of His goodness, because- but the grasshopper memory leaps in the long thicket, knowing no ease. Ah, Joe, you never knew the whole of it... I like Bruce Dawe. He just my be my favourite Austral