Thoughtless for the Day

One of the things that I find most annoying about the modern world is the overabundance of the vague. Terms like "lump sum", "rough amount", and "a bunch" litter the modern American lexicon. Shit Luther, I can hardly count the number of times that I've toyed with the notion of producing a coffee table book which laid out, in no uncertain terms, helpful measurements like the number of teaspoons to a "smidgen" or the precise amount of pounds in a "shitload".

I can trace my dislike of vague, unexplained terms back to Junior High School, where I first head about a game called "Grab-Ass".

Most of, I'm certain, are familiar with the episode of South Park wherein the Shop teacher keeps shouting "Look at ya'; screwin' around!" Well, when I was in sixth grade I had a gym teacher who was exactly like that character, only his catchphrase was "Look at ya'; goofin' off and playin' Grab-Ass."

Now, you have to remember that my Junior High was broken up into "sections". These sections ran from A to H. The kids in section A were regarded as the dumbest kids in the school: by some miracle of Social Engineering, they were also the poorest and the darkest. The prevailing theory was that they had been given the designation "A" to make them feel better (in fact, many of the more delusional of the A's were actually under the impression that they were in the highest section and that the H's were a bunch of idiots. It wasn't until I was much older that I became aware of the wisdom of this position). As you climbed up the alphabet, the sections became progressively whiter and wealthier, but to all observance, hardly "smarter." Proof of this can be found in the fact that your friend and humble narrator was assigned to the G's.

So here were the G's, a bun...sorry, approximately thirty wimpy middle class white kids on the college-bound track being accused of goofing off and playing Grab-Ass. The goofing off accusation we understood. After all, wasn't that was gym class was about: play? Honestly, we didn't see the point in learning the rules to baseball as none of us were going to grow up to be baseball players. After all, it wasn't like anyone was forcing the B's to learn Geometry, just in case one of them suddenly got the urge to attend MIT.

Grab-Ass, on the other hand, perplexed our young minds. None of us had attempted to grab anyone else's ass. Why would we? Anyone committing such an act would be instantly branded a social pariah even among us: the wimpiest kids in the school. Had Grab-Ass been a popular recreational activity during our gym teacher's youth? It was possible. He was rather old and due to retire at the end of the year. Who know what sorts of barbarous activities the boys of his day engaged in? Something had transformed him into the wreck of humanity that was currently shouting at us to stop prancing around like a bunch of pansies. Perhaps his psyche had been damaged during a pick up game of Grab-Ass?

No one ever asked the gym teacher exactly what Grab-Ass was or how it was played. We just chalked it up to the many other games, like baseball, football, soccer, dodge ball, kickball, etc. that we had no idea how to properly play and had always been picked last for.

Epilog:

In my dreams, a group of men in crisp, white uniforms attempt to break through a line of men in smart blue uniforms who have formed a semi-circle around a brown, doe-eyed donkey. Over a distant loudspeaker, an announcer is heard to say "It's a perfect day for a game of Grab-Ass."