Digressions of a Dilettante

Digressions of a Dilettante
Vignettes of Inanity by Bud Hearn

Friday, October 25, 2013

The Tongue is a Fire


Discoveries are sometimes made with a simple slip of the tongue. It’s when words like, “That’s woman’s work,” slide off of men’s lips. This thesis was revealed to the Apostle Jimmy while he was camping out with his camel near the Dead Sea. He penned these words, “The tongue is a fire…and it is set on fire of hell.”

**********

The tongue is a torch. It ignites. Sparks made of words fly off and often set on fire the course of nature. The tongue is an unruly evil. It’s impossible to tame, especially with men.

I learned this lesson the hard way. My tongue made me lie. I must have been five or six at the time. I had discovered some packets of what looked like candy. Like a dog, I ate anything. I remember exactly how the events unfolded.

Son, what are you eating? Mama asked.

Uh, candy grandmamma gave me,” I said. The lie just rolled off the tip of my tongue. I didn’t even have to think about it. There I stood, drooling. Five packs of empty Rolaids wrappers lay scattered about my feet. After a severe tongue-lashing and a switch-thrashing, I discovered the tongue was not my friend.

Tongues have a tendency to wag. They’re attached in our mouths but many lack connectivity to the brain. It seems to have been a flaw in the original design of humans. To date no discovery has been made that will resolve the glitch.

Tongues boast of great things. This is the main use of it among men. It becomes quite lively after infusions of firewater. The context of such wagging tends to be centered on exaggerated achievements concerning money, athletics and embellished exploits with women. Not necessarily in this order, and nothing believable!

Shakespeare made this discovery by accident after pulling an all-nighter. He passed it on by Polonius’ warning to Ophelia, “…(when) the blood burns, how prodigal the soul lends the tongue vows.” The tongue boasts more than it can back up, to be sure.

There are two favorite words that the tongue prefers to use for mischief: fat and age. Used in the presence of women, it’s a disaster of gigantic proportions. I have discovered this trigger more than once. I’ve coined a word, ‘fatage,’ as a reminder.

My friend Todd, is a noted PhD, a deep thinker. He forgot the power of the word ‘fatage.’ He once suggested to his wife, tongue-in-cheek, of course, “If you get fat I’m gonna leave you.” His tongue betrayed him. “Just kidding,” he said. So shallow is this apology it’s like trying to put out a house fire by spitting on it. Todd now lives alone in Ludowici, thinking about what went wrong.

Last September was the birthday of a famous equation: E = mc2. It simply states that a tiny bit of mass can yield enormous energy. In fact, the nuclear bomb that exploded over Nagasaki contained less than an ounce of plutonium. Einstein made this discovery by accident.

One evening he came home, frustrated from thinking. The equation had eluded him for days. He had a quick nip of rye that sharpened his tongue. In his best Yiddish he snapped at his wife, “Velkh iz oyf varmes, eyfele?” Translated, it’s “What’s for dinner, baby.” E = mc2 came to him at the precise moment when the matzah ball exploded on his forehead.

I have made such discoveries. I once remember commenting to my wife with my smug, silver tongue that nobody made banana pudding like mama. Believe it or not, banana pudding has not been in our refrigerator since that comment. Such is the power of words.

Is there hope for the taming of the tongue? Nothing yet has been discovered that will mitigate the damage caused by this double-edged sword. I found this out again the hard way only last week.

We are cleaning out the garage. I find some Halloween paraphernalia; among such is a sign board. It reads, “The Witch Is In.” I show it to my wife. We laugh. She leans it against the pumpkin on the front steps. My tongue suggests we should nail it to the door permanently. Oops. It’s not wise to print the consequences.

**********

Somewhere in the distance a tongue laughs hideously. The fires of hell begin to rage…

Bud Hearn
October 25, 2013

No comments: