Horismus

Horismus (hor-is’-mus): Providing a clear, brief definition, especially by explaining differences between associated terms.

“Car, car c-a-r. Stick your head in a jelly jar.” It was my first taunt, and I had authored it my self. I was nine and I yelled it out the car window when my mother was driving me home from school.

At nine, taunts were the coin of the realm. More aesthetically pleasing than teasing, some of them even rhymed like my jelly jar taunts. Most important, they presented a challenge, tending to induce anger, not shame or embarrassment like their weaker, more mean-spirited cousin, teasing.

In the late 50s we’d hang out at Charlie’s Soda Shoppe taunting each other after school. Charlie’s was a perfect replica of the Waverly Tavern down the street. It functioned as a training ground for hanging out at the bar when we got older. You could get a shot of ginger ale, and all of Charlie’s sundaes were modeled after the mixed drinks at the bar. For example, the Singapore Sundae: strawberry ice cream drizzled with Grenadine syrup, topped with a cherry and an orange slice alongside an umbrella. You’d learn how to nonchalantly remove the umbrella and politely pull the fruit laden toothpick out of the ice cream, slide the cherry and orange slice off the toothpick and slowly eat them, being careful not to bite into the orange peel. That was called a “smooth landing.”

Then, one day everything changed. Bruce Flanger asked George Bigelow if his mother had a mustache. It was a simple question, but George took it as taunt and threw his Vanilla Sour at Bruce and yelled “Your mother is so fat, when she wears high heels they poke holes in the sidewalk.” Bruce shot back: “You mother smells like the men’ room at exit 35 on the Parkway.” The Exit 35 men’s room was fabled for it’s stench. Some people believed it had been built over a mafia burial ground. Others believed it had been cursed by John Spellman, the “Farting King” from Union, NJ who used his trombone-sounding stench to clear convenience stores, and then rob them. He had been caught in the Exit 36 men’s room preparing for a robbery. State Police stormed the men’s room wearing army surplus gas masks. That’s when Spellman supposedly hurled his curse: “I swear this place will stink forever” and then he blew one that lasted for two minutes. The state police said the cloud coming out of Spellman’s pants had “a life of its own, altering the color of the wall tiles and becoming a part of the men’s room structure.”

Back to Charlie’s: The “your mother” give-and-take was starting to spiral out of control. Voices were raised, postures were angry. Then, Berty Russel raised his hands and made a conciliatory gesture. He said: “I like taunting as much as the next guy, but I’m a registered pacifist and don’t want to see it escalate into violence. I propose we view the ‘your mother’ taunt as a jest intended to elicit undirected laughter where ‘your mother’ is the ‘primordial mother,’ the ‘every mother.’ Moreover, the first known ‘your mother’ joke is 3,500 years old and inscribed on a Babylonian tablet: ‘Your mother is by the one who has intercourse with her. What/who is it?’ We must respect these ancient origins. Any taunt that is substantively true, will be understood as an affront, and measures will be taken, For example; your mother is so fat she’s n a wheelchair. Expect violence.” Berty was nearly making sense for once. He was from England.

So, ignoring Berty’s BS history lesson, as far as we were concerned, the “your mother” jest was born that day at Charlie’s Soda Shoppe. It has held its own into the 21st century, and will continue being used as long as there are mothers. Just then, Charlie said to nobody in particular “Your mother has a mustache.” Everybody looked at him. Five guys stood up ready to let Charlie have it, George Bigelow threw his Strawberry Mary at Charlie and we all laughed as it streamed down Charlie’s chin and dripped on his shirt.

Definition courtesy of “Silva Rhetoricae” (rhetoric.byu.edu).

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