While the ancient game of hurling–not to be confused with curling or nurling–has been enjoyed by tens of people in Ireland, Scotland and other countries over the centuries, its corruption by Americans has turned it into a psychological blood sport.
In the American version the item to be hurled is not a ball, but a compact, tightly wound insult. Some observers believe this has not only hastened the death of civility but inflated numbers in the fart bag community.
A typical American hurling contest starts with very basic insults, but they can be hurled with surprising bite. Example: “Your mother looks like a horse,” or “Your mother is a horse.”
Note: a solid defense is the “What else is new?” deflection. In this case the defender’s mother actually does look like a horse and may, in fact, be a horse. The unfazed defender may now hurl back a free insult.
Caution: noobies often confuse an insult with a humiliation. For instance, “You have the stupid face of a rabid emu,” is a perfectly acceptable insult. Whereas, telling someone to “go soak your stupid, rabid, emu-like head in a bucket,” needlessly complicates the hurl; the venom of the insult drains harmlessly away as the insultee wastes time looking for a bucket.
Worse, the bucket ploy even suggests that the hurler feels sympathy for the emu-head in question, aware that soaking such a head in a bucket is a proven folk remedy for returning an emu-head to its normal non-stupid, non-rabid, non-emu-like shape.
Thus, one must never use a head-soaking humiliation without providing a bucket filled with something soakful. Otherwise it’s like telling a boy to shovel the walk without providing snow.
True, snow is not the only thing one can shovel from the walk, but unless you have a horse or cow tethered outside—sometimes requiring permits—you’re better off just keeping a snow making machine in the garage.
Make sure, also, that you have a boy with a shovel at hand. Unless, of course, it has snowed, in which case you can sell the horse and use the cow for milk.
In the interest of making sure that this vital point is clear, let us consider the sports of football and futbol. Each sport involves the use of a ball and a foot and a team bus usually equipped with an unventilated restroom.
In American professional football, participants are known as millionaire players. Since the “millionaire” is silent, like the u in idiot, they are simply called players. In lands where futbol is somehow enjoyed and even understood, participants are known as foreigners. It’s as simple as that.
Professional hurlers of abuse often serve up an insult combination known as the Screed. It exposes genetic abnormalities in a defender such as a history of late to zero potty training; drooling psychosis; inability to simultaneously walk and chew gum; hysteria at the sight of a severed nose in the soup; morbid flatulence and a tendency to look and whinny like a horse.
Points are scored when a Screed reduces a defender to the likes of an angry, spittle-foaming man three days late to his own funeral, having never been informed officially of his death and unable to reach his lawyer who does not accept calls from dead beats.
The hurler is awarded a free insult aimed at the hurlee’s “Lesser Antilles,” usually eliciting some pathetic threat like “I’m telling my Mom.”
At this point play ceases, points are awarded and the insulted player is given a two-minute time out. He is consoled with a freshly ironed strait jacket made traditionally from Irish linen.
©Patrick A. McGuire and A Hint of Light 2013, all rights reserved