by J. R. Practix

Abattoir: n. a slaughterhouse

Thank God.

I will never, ever again have to nervously tell my friends that I will be unable to join them for dinner because I needed to pick up an extra shift at the slaughterhouse. I can just inform them that I am “tied up at the abattoir.”

Don’t you love words like that? Without them, our civilization might crumble in a series of offensive utterances that leave the room either confused or repelled.

For instance, how about the guy or gal who first came up with “restroom?” After all, even “bathroom” is a little bit weird and ambiguous. )It did, however,  at least give us the ability to escape crapper, pot, toilet and “take a dump.”)

Yes, because we have “civilized” our language, we are now able, as high-browed souls, to judge others on their improper usage of words.  If anyone is going to say in mixed company that they’re going to “take a crap,” we assume that they would kill baby birds and also vote for the candidate distasteful to our tender conscience.

I would love to see us resolve this with the issue of romance–because to proclaim that the previous evening afforded you the opportunity to have sex is way too blatant, conjuring images of you in the nude which are unpleasant to all participants. Equally nasty is “getting it on,” “hooking up,” “bumping uglies,” “getting some,” and even “making love.” I guess that last one, “making love,” is the least offensive, but it still invites images of movie scenes with soft lighting, air-brushed bodies and guaranteed orgasms for all parties.

Yes, now that we’ve taken care of that “slaughterhouse” dilemma, we need to work on a description of human sexuality that doesn’t leave the listener confused or completely grossed out.

What is the abattoir for romance? I wish they’d hold a contest. The submissions would be hilarious, don’t you think?

But in the meantime, I shall spend my day rejoicing that slaughtered pigs, cows, chickens and even goats are going out in finer style–at the abattoir.