I was thinking about hand signs today.There are only about seven hand signs that are universally recognized in Western culture, and I find it interesting that one of these is the sign for "F--- you." At least, I think that's what it means. I don't have a translation chart or anything, but in my experience they seem to evoke the same response. Evidently our need to express the sentiment "F--- you" is right up there with "hello" and "OK."
How did that happen exactly? Was there a meeting where cavemen got together and hashed out the half dozen must-have hand signs?
Grog: Ok guys, there's been a lot of confusion about the hand signals we've been using. Just last week Thag misinterpreted a 'stop' signal and got eaten by a sabretooth. We really need to standardize. So what signs do we need? I mean, besides 'stop.'I know, that's not really how language works. But these signs had to come from somewhere, right? Somebody had to be the first one to give someone else the finger. And how did the flippee know what the flipper meant? It's not like it's a particularly intuitive sign. Maybe it went more like this:
Ook: Well, we've got to have a 'hello' sign. You know, like a greeting.
Lurg: Yeah, we could use this. (waves)
Grog: Brilliant! Ok, what else do we need?
Ook: Hmmm. How about something to express approval? Like one thumb in the air.
Grog: Nice. We'll call it the 'thumbs-up.' Anything else?
Lurg: Well, we're going to need a 'f--- you' sign.
Ook: Oh yeah. Big time.
Viscount Trotsbury: I say, lad, is that John Montagu across yon moor?
Lad: I believe it is, m'lord.
Trotsbury: Sodding beet-licker. Shout something coarse and insulting at him.
Lad: M'lord, I don't believe he would be able to hear me, what with the wind blowing over the moor.
Trotsbury: Blast! I really want to tell that bloody tapestry-nibbler what I think of him. Perhaps an offensive hand gesture of some sort.
Lad: M'lord?
Trotsbury: I don't know, be creative.
Lad: Yes, m'lord.
Trotsbury: No, not that! You can't hold one fist up like that. Now it looks like I'm challenging him to a duel.
Lad: Aren't you?
Trotsbury: No! I don't want to fight him! I want to express my disapproval and contempt, and then high-tail it the other direction. What are you doing now?
Lad: I'm knocking my fists together in a most violent fashion, indicating that although you are not challenging Montagu to a duel, you would very much like to see him get what's coming to him.
Trotsbury: Stop it! It looks like your fists are making love to each other!
Lad: How about this?
Trotsbury: Now it looks like one of your fists is sodomizing the other. We're trying to say "F--- you," not "I want to f--- you." There's a subtle, but important difference.
Lad: How about this?
Trotsbury: What is that supposed to be?
Lad: See how my middle finger looks a little like a penis when I hold it like this?
Trotsbury: Are you trying to tell Montagu that he gives you an erection?
Lad: M'lord, with respect, I think it's clear that I'm expressing your supreme manliness as well as your contempt for Montagu.
Trotsbury: It looks like a bird to me.
Lad: A bird, m'lord? I don't see how you could...
Trotsbury: I suppose it will have to do. Bloody hell, what a lot of work. Get me something to eat.
Lad: Would you like meat or bread?
Trotsbury: Both.
Lad: At the same time?
Trotsbury: Yes, at the same time, you sodding ninny!
Lad: Er, alright then. Here, I've put a slab of meat between two slices of bread so that it will be easier to eat.
Trotsbury: (takes a bite) Zounds, I'm a genius!
Lad: M'lord?
Trotsbury: I've invented an entirely new way of eating! That's two inventions in one day! First the bird gesture, and now this! Soon everyone will be eating their meat between two slices of bread.
Lad: Very good, m'lord. What will you call it?
Trotsbury: It shall be known as the 'trotsbury,' of course. And I shall be revered across the world as its inventor.
Lad: M'lord?
Trotsbury: What is it, lad?
Lad: It's John Montagu, m'lord. He's coming this way. He doesn't look very happy.
Trotsbury: Blast, we should have run when we had the chance. Quick, make him a trotsbury.
Lad: Yes, m'lord.
Montagu: I say, Trotsbury, what was that gesture your lad was making toward me? It looked rather coarse and offensive.
Trotsbury: Not at all, my friend. He was merely "flipping you the bird." It's a sign of respect.
Montague: I should hope so. I've killed men for knocking their fists together in my direction.
Trotsbury: Yes, your dueling prowess is well known.
Montague: And what is that you have there, lad?
Lad: It's a new invention of my master's. We call it the trot --
Trotsbury: The sandwich. We call it the sandwich, in honor of yourself, John Montagu, the Earl of Sandwich. See, my lad has made you one.
Montagu: Excellent! This could catch on, you know. Soon everyone will be eating 'sandwiches.' I'm not sure I quite get the hand gesture, though. Would you mind having your lad 'flip me the bird' one more time?
Trotsbury: Gladly, friend. Gladly.
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