You May Kill Me But You May Never Insult Me
The title of this post is a line I stole from Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End, known familiarly as Pirates 3, or, if you're in the loop (as of course I am), succinctly and to-the-pointedly, P3. It's all good. And yes, because I know you're dying to ask, I do think there will be a P4.
The subject line is uttered by (who else) Captain Jack Sparrow, darling dreadlocked doppelgänger of adorable Johnny Depp (or vice versa, and who cares), to his longtime nemesis, Lord Cutler Beckett of the East India Trading Company.
As, like Captain Jack Sparrow, I do not care to be insulted, I make every effort to be polite. However, there are times when, I confess, I am less than cordial. Most often this occurs when I find myself the barely-welcome guest of an art museum or behind the wheel of my car, navigating the treacherous lanes of central South Carolina ... where you are as likely to chance upon a primate driver as a human one.
No insult to monkeys intended.
You rampallian! You fustilarian!
But since I admire the works of William Shakespeare (especially the sonnets), and even cleverly fashioned my vanity plate after a line from Hamlet (Act 3, Scene 1), and since The Bard was nothing if not a skilled crafter of elegantly rancid rejoinders, I bring you a post containing some of the most pithy pejoratives you will ever encounter this side of Stratford-on-Avon.
You may wonder how I came to be in possession of this treasure trove of tart-tongued taunts. Remember when I was so rudely insulted while taking in a hoity-toity exhibit at the Columbia Museum of Art? You know, the time when a gender-challenged lackey enjoined me to cease and desist pointing at the paintings, and I was disinclined to acquiesce to her its request?
Well, let me tell you. After I had exhausted the industrial-strength light sword that is my index finger, and we had absorbed all the oil-based impressionism and post-impressionism and realism we could possibly retain, my mother announced that she wanted to do what we should have done all along: go shopping.
Specifically, she was keen to visit the museum gift shop. "YES!" I agreed, knowing we'd have a marvelous time there. And so we waved goodbye to all the long-tailed primates in blue embroidered coats (well, except for that ONE), and followed the yellow brick road to the postage-stamp-sized souvenir shop embedded in the museum's main floor.
I had worked my way nearly around the entire perimeter of the tiny establishment when I saw it: a Shakespearean Insults mug which was clearly destined to be mine. You may view a mug exactly like it, and even purchase one for yourself -- or a fortunate friend! -- by clicking here.
But in case/even if you don't feel like doing that, allow me to share with you the insightful and breviloquent barbs so brightly inscribed upon my mug's ceramic surface.
If your gigglebox is easily upset, the trick is not to read any of these while possessed of a mouthful of coffee. And as you read, it might be fun to envision your own nefarious nemesis, and imagine the look you would receive if, without warning, you hurled one of these bad boys in their astonished face.
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You rampallian! You fustilarian! <>><<> Light of brain <>><<> Bolting-hutch of beastliness <>><<> Mountain of mad flesh <>><<> Long-tongu'd babbling gossip
Veriest varlet that ever chewed with a tooth <>><<> I do desire that we may be better strangers <>><<> O gull, O dolt, as ignorant as dirt <>><<> Clod of wayward marl
Roast-meat for worms <>><<> Infinite and endless liar, an hourly promise-breaker <>><<> Lump of foul deformity <>><<> All the infections that the sun soaks up
Elvish-mark'd abortive, rooting hog <>><<> The soul of this man is his clothes <>><<> Quintessence of dust <>><<> Canker-blossom <>><<> Poisonous bunch-back'd toad
A fusty nut with no kernel <>><<> Foot-licker <>><<> Lewdly inclin'd <>><<> Beetle-headed, flap-ear'd knave <>><<> Thou art a boil, a plague sore
And I saved these, my favorites, for last. Think Nancy Pelosi, or the terrorists she so earnestly endeavors to champion:
False of heart, light of ear, bloody of hand <>><<> Highly fed and lowly taught <>><<> Not so much brain as ear wax <>><<> All eyes and no sight <>><<> Anointed sovereign of sighs and groans
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As you were.
Reader Comments (12)
Narf! (They got all that on a MUG???)
This is hillarious! If I drank coffee or tea, I would be getting one of these. However - I'm going to order one for my sister-in-law who will just love it. It's just so her! I loved this whole post and your vanity polate is great too!
The art article was worth reading if for no other reason than to improve my vocabulary. I admire your prospective. LMack49
@ Tracie ... yep! Admirable; no?
@ Mari ... oh, that is so cool! She will love it, I'm sure. We laughed so hard reading it for the first time, we cried.
@ LMack ... I'm glad you found reading it worthwhile! Thanks for stopping by, and please come back!
Whoa! Yes, those become funnier every time I read them...although I don't laugh as long or as hard as you do at them. : )
My favorites:
"I do desire that we may be better strangers"
"Canker-blossom" (This would be an awesome name for a rock band, by the way.)
"Foot-licker"
"Not so much brain as ear wax"
I am going to use all four of these before the week is out! ;-)
Sometimes the old ones really are the best, huh? LOL!
'Foot licker'! 'Not so much brain as ear-wax'! ROFL!
@ Audrey ... I know! You said you didn't "get" them! And yet you took the box ...
@ Kev ... I knew you'd find these useful! Take pictures of the lucky recipients!
@ Jay ... The old ones do very nicely indeed!
The lady doth not protest enough; thus and to wit, buy mine insult mug and be thine rock what through yon window breaks!
@ SF ... Cometh thou hither to deliver thine own deleterious dialog? LOLOLOLOL
Hi Jennifer,
I suppose one has not been insulted unless it has been done by the Bard himself. What a good novelty, a Shakespeare insult mug. Very cool. -Mike.
@ Mike ... you're right; an insult just sounds more classy coming from WS! Thanks for stopping by!