Understanding Sedate Me: A Glossary of TermsFebruary 10, 2011
As many of you are probably aware, Sedate Me is a frequent contributor to this blog’s comment threads. Having decided that it takes a lot less effort to run your own blog within the confines of someone else’s, Sedate Me has made Fancy Plans the inadvertent host of windy essays on subject matter ranging from men’s fashion to today’s Next Big Thing.
Unfortunately, as well thought out and excessively long as these comments are, they can be a bit confusing to the uninitiated thanks to SM’s use of proprietary handcrafted vernacular. This brief (but not too brief — we are dealing with Sedate Me after all) glossary should help you suss out what the hell exactly he’s going on (and on) about.
Does not refer to Abu Gharib as would seem to be inferred by the context but rather an infamous nightclub in SM’s hometown. Regulars of Abu Grabass are loathe to call it an actual “gay bar” but locals refer to it as the “most latently homosexual bar this side of Robert Reed’s Walk-ln Closet.
The AG frequently attempts to reach both sides of the track (or touch the third rail, if you prefer) with its hi-energy drag races every Sunday, Sunday, SUNDAY!!!
Patronized by SM despite all claims to the contrary.
The True Scotsman
While most outsiders and fans of rhetorical devices would recognize this as a particularly flawed argument, SM has taken this instead as an indication of RF Interference’s latent homosexuality. Hence, Abu Grabass is loaded with Mocc-Soc-wearin’ fence-straddlers every March 17th, having decided that while no true Scotsmen would be caught dead celebrating this decidedly Irish holiday, it hardly matters since no one seems to have ever actually located one.
Twits (aka Twitz, Twats, Tweeters, Twizzlers)
A derogatory term used to designate (and denigrate) those who have realized they never have anything more than 140 characters long to say.
Lifers (aka Sloppy Seconds, This Explains Why James Cameron’s “Avatar” Sucked So Much)
A derogatory term applied to the denizens of Second Life who have given up the tactile sensations of real life for the non-sensory thrill of rapidly clicking their way through awkward polygonal sex. Or, just as often, used the lack of a Second Life Better Business Bureau to run clicky, polygonal pyramid schemes.
The outcasts of Facebook who have been exiled by admins for falling below the five-friend threshold. At four friends or below, their accounts are transferred to the outer edges of Facebook where their fierce unlikeabilty will no longer trouble the other 500 million users who seem to have no problems coming up with at least 5 family members, much less 5 friends.
Due to the communication barrier, no Loserbooker is able to escape this purgatory as befriending another LB puts that new friend over the 5-friend limit and sends them back to the real Facebook, deleting them from the friends’ list of the (probably) ugly soul left behind.
Unfortunately, LB friends do not carry over to Facebook meaning the recent escapee enjoys mere moments of socializing and sulfur-free air before their account is updated, removing their LB friend and dropping them below the threshold and dumping them back into the private (but really not all that private — check your Settings) hell of Loserbook once again.
Motherfuckers who are always ruining shit. Usually rich motherfuckers with the pull to buy politicians and rewrite legislation in their own image.
Also refers to those motherfuckers who act as “helicopter parents” to entire nations, telling them what is safe to read, eat and watch. They also have problems with your musical tastes and insanely filthy mouth. A national bedtime is on the way to prevent anyone from sticking anything into anyone for pleasurable reasons. If you need to procreate, please run it by the motherfuckers first so they can have the appropriate representatives on hand to make sure no one enjoys it.
These motherfuckers are all over the media as well, providing us with “The News We Thought You Could Use” and “All the News That’s Fit to [REDACTED].”
The fevered wet dream of “capitalist running dogs” who are so busy tearing the world a new fiscal asshole that they fail to notice they are swiftly being overtaken by avenging Cossacks who have crossed both the boundaries of time and metaphorical limits to avenge the pillaging of the many for the good of the few. (And possibly do a little pillaging of their own. They are Cossacks after all.)
A Canadian regulatory office which, thanks to severe budget cuts, is charged with both keeping radio broadcasts free of derogatory slang (i.e., “bitches”) and ensuring a steady cash flow from its more profitable branch, the National Cocksuckers (i.e., “bitches who better have my money”) Union.
Normally, overseeing national prudishness would seem to conflict with supplying sex in exchange for money but thanks to advanced compartmentalization, the CC is able to run both with a clear conscience.
Idiots. More specifically, the kind of idiot that is bred in the open air of bad ideas and good intentions. Mix this with a bit of free-range oversensitivity and cruelty-free bleeding heart and bam! Fuckers + Retards = Fucktards, a breed of oxygen swiller prone to reactionary censorship as a way to promote tolerance and diversity.
“Let’s make things more open by closing this door here! Oh, maybe that one, too… and this window. Nothing out there but perspective.”
Including, but not limited to fucktards, free marketeers, politicians, censors, pop “artists,” techno fans, people who wear invisible socks, people who “dress to impress,” people who dress for confidence, people who dress, the music industry, Cossacks who lean more toward pillaging than avenging, lawyers, smart-arsed bloggers, and people who die of pneumonia (and their representation).
The only product motherfuckers make.