D’oh: (interjection) used to express dismay when one has done something stupid

It is difficult to comprehend that to most of the generations which inhabited the Earth, the name “Homer” evoked images of Achilles, the Trojan War and the adventures of Ulysses in the Iliad and the Odyssey.

Nowadays, “Homer” is only associated with a man named Simpson.

He lives in Springfield, Illinois, and is a cartoon character.

I seriously doubt if there’s anyone under the age of thirty who is much aware of the adventure-telling Homer from the past, unless in spending so much time in the library, he or she is bullied incessantly.

Just as the Greeks needed Homer, the great poet and writer, to lift their spirits about their culture, conquests and potential, we apparently required our Homer to make us feel a little less convicted and burdened by our mediocrity.

Let’s be honest.

It’s nice to know that someone is dumber than yourself.

Matter of fact, I’m going to venture a guess that each one of us has an individual—or maybe even individuals—that we keep around as friends just to make sure that we are the ones who answer the most questions watching the Jeopardy! reruns.

Not only does our “Homer of the Simpson” have a characterization of dullness and ignorance, he has a catchphrase, so we will know when even he has discovered how ridiculously inept he is.

“D’oh!” He doesn’t have to say anything else.

Marge, Bart and Lisa know that Papa Simpson has once again ruined a vacation, placed them deeper in debt, destroyed a barbecue or somehow or another put a huge hole in the roof.

While we extol the glories of education, we all must realize that we each fall short of the glory of our plans.

At that point, we need to be able to say something that is comical enough to curb the embarrassment.

d’Arc: (Prop Noun) Joan of Arc

That must have been a tough meeting.

All the town council gathering together to decide what to do.

It was a proud community, I’m sure. Matter of fact, there was even some buzz about putting out a wine from the region—one which could represent the vicinity tastefully.

Then all this “Joan” business came along.

Most of the citizens had been convinced that the young girl would be satisfied just to grow up, keep her mouth shut and have lots and lots of children, who could mature in similar ignorance, embracing the village credo.

But Joan got religious—which would have been fine if she had decided to be a nun. There are places for women who insist they love God. But there are no spots for a young girl who believes she talks to God, especially when she deems herself to be some sort of warrior who’s supposed to lead troops into battle.

At first, the community was encouraged. Joan experienced some success and there was a thrill in the air—she might actually change the history of the nation.

Matter of fact, someone suggested placing a slab of stone on the outskirts of the community, chiseled with the words “Joan Lives Here.”

Then things went astray.

She fell into disfavor.

She was deemed to be a witch, since she thought she heard the voice of God compelling her to battle.

And when they burned her at the stake, it became obvious that the town could no longer be associated with Joan d’Arc. Somehow or another, they had to calm things down, to the point that they were just “Arc” again.

There was disappointment among the leaders. It would have been wonderful to be known as the community that birthed a heroine.

But it is not quite as advantageous to be the hometown of a witch.

Maybe people would forget.

Perhaps very soon, the region could return to pursuing that “wine idea.”

But for now, it remains embarrassing.

Arc is tied to Joan. And Joan … d’Arc.

What would it take to change that?

Well, maybe it’s just as simple as making sure that Joan and d’Arc don’t appear printed side by side.