Uncle John's Bathroom Reader Golden Plunger Awards (6 page)

A third, persistent story is based on the fact that British soldiers in the 1415 Battle of Agincourt during the Hundred Years War used longbows made of yew. When they were captured, the French would cut off their middle fingers, making the English unable to use the bow. English soldiers who were not captured supposedly began showing their middle fingers to the French to show they could still pull the bow.

That story goes to an even further extreme by claiming that the soldiers bragged they could still “pluck yew.” Hogwash, linguistic historians say. The longbow-using soldiers at Agincourt were mostly Welsh mercenaries, and it’s unlikely that any of them would ever utter the phrase “pluck yew.” It’s also unlikely that the French had a plan to cut off the fingers of captured soldiers. It’s a fun story, though.

However, none of the bird’s origin stories offer a realistic explanation for why the gesture is primarily one used by Americans. The obscenity is universal. Many cultures use a finger as a phallic symbol: in Iran, an American “thumbs up” is equivalent to flipping the bird, and Sri Lankans use their index finger. But the middle finger is uniquely American. Movies, television, the Web, and global travel have helped to spread the American version, but for the most part, foreign countries already have their own rude hand gestures and are sticking with them.

Whatever its beginnings, and regardless of how common the “F” word has become in popular culture, flipping the bird remains a top insult . . . and a good reason to keep your hands at your sides before they get you into trouble.

This way of saying “Don’t bother speaking” gained popularity in the early 1990s, when it was a staple on daytime talk shows. It quickly exploded in common usage. At first, it required the actor not only to extend the arm and put the hand facing up, palm toward the recipient, but also to say the words “Talk to the hand.” (The expanded verbal version included “because the face isn’t listening”
or “because the face does not understand.”) Nowadays, the hand motion alone is sufficient, but a scowl or a head tilt can always be added for extra emphasis.

The palm-outraised hand has been used for decades to signify “stop.” There’s a notion that “Talk to the hand” originated on
The Jerry Springer Show
, but there’s no proof of that. Certainly, guests on that show, which was one of the most popular daytime talk shows during the 1990s, used the phrase a lot and helped to popularize it.

Wherever it began, “Talk to the hand” has earned a distinction as one of the rudest hand gestures. Author Lynne Truss even wrote a book about rudeness in popular culture and titled it
Talk to the Hand
. She wrote in the book:

When you raise your index and middle fingers and face your palm out, you’re either making a peace sign or a “V” for victory sign. If that palm is facing back at you, you’re doing the British equivalent of flipping the bird.

The origin of the rude “V” sign is unknown, but it, too, is often thought to have originated at the Battle of Agincourt. Not true, say scholars. Its first recorded use is somewhere around 80 years after that battle. It probably began along with the bird and evolved separately. At least that’s the current theory.

More than a few Americans don’t know about this little cultural difference or that it extends beyond England to Ireland, Australia, and New Zealand. President George H. W. Bush didn’t know when he traveled to Canberra, Australia, in January 1992. From his limo, he gave people on the street the “V” sign, but he faced his palm the wrong way. Oops!

He’s not the only one. The rude “V” sign’s close relationship to the positive peace and victory signs has spelled trouble for quite a few politicians several times. During World War II, Winston
Churchill made the incorrect gesture at cheering crowds. Rumor has it that aides told him that he was doing the victory sign wrong and he corrected himself from then on. A picture of Margaret Thatcher flicking the “V” circulated back in the 1980s as well.

So there you have it. There are more than a few ways to say something rude with your hands, and they are usually different from culture to culture. So when in doubt, keep your hands to yourself.

“All hockey players are bilingual. They know English and profanity.”

“Profanity is the common crutch of the conversational cripple.”

“If profanity had an influence on the flight of the ball, the game of golf would be played far better than it is.”

“In certain trying circumstances, urgent circumstances, desperate circumstances, profanity furnishes a relief denied even to prayer.”

“Grant me some wild expressions, heavens, or I shall burst.”

“Many a man’s profanity has saved him from a nervous breakdown.”

“I knew the profanity used up and down my street would not go over the air...So I trained myself to say ‘Holy Cow’ instead.”

Science’s Ducky Helpers

In January 1992, a storm tossed a cargo ship in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. On its deck, a crate of children’s bath toys was journeying from China, where they were manufactured, to the United States, home of the company that sells them—plastic turtles, frogs, but mostly rubber ducks.

The cargo ship survived the storm not too much the worse for wear, bit it lost about 29,000 passengers. The storm tossed the giant steel containers holding the plastic toys overboard, smashing open their doors on the high seas. The ducks and fellow fauna survived the fall and made their way into the ocean, where they began a long journey around the globe.

The amazing thing about their trip is how many of them ended up in so many different places. If so many items of like weight, shape, and size were set adrift in one spot in the ocean, why didn’t they all wind up in the same place?

By October 1992, the first ducks had washed up on the shores of Alaska. Within years, others appeared as far away as Hawaii and Massachusetts. Some of the ducks traveled along the Bering Strait, got ensconced in ice, and wound up in Iceland. And in the summer of 2007, more than 15 years after they first hit the waves, more plastic ducks came ashore in Great Britain. They had lost their distinctive yellow coloring, but otherwise were in perfect working order.

More than just a fun story, the ducks proved invaluable to science thanks to Curtis Ebbesmeyer, a former oceanographer for Mobil Oil (tracking icebergs so tankers could avoid accidents). In 1991, just a year before the ducks were set adrift, Ebbesmeyer read a news story about shoes washing ashore from Oregon up to the Canadian coast. The shoes came from 21 containers that had fallen off of a ship during a storm in the Alaskan peninsula a year earlier; some 61,000 had gone overboard. When he read about their reemergence, Ebbesmeyer was intrigued. When the ducks went overboard in 1992, he knew he was on to something with great potential for scientific study.

In 1996, Ebbesmeyer formed the Beachcombers’ and Oceanographers’ International Association and set up a Web site called
beachcombersalert.org
to ask for help from people worldwide in tracking the movements of the rubber ducks and other objects lost at sea. With the help of his global team and other scientists, Ebbesmeyer made many discoveries about the oceans and the way they move, which led to even more information about shipping and transportation, our understanding of weather and climate, and biology.

Cargo getting washed overboard from ships is not a rare occurrence. It’s estimated that about 10,000 containers are lost each year. As of 2007, only about 1,000 of the 29,000 ducks, turtles, and other plastic toys from the 1992 spill had been recovered. Many of the ones that are unaccounted for probably disintegrated over the years, but the ones that have been found have appeared all over the world: on both coasts of North America, Japan, Scotland, Hawaii’s Lanai Island, and many other places. Based on the data he’s collected, Ebbesmeyer has been able to predict the toys’ journeys with remarkable accuracy, but he says there’s still much to be learned from them about ocean currents and movements. For now, though, we’re proud of how much our rubber duck friends have helped with scientific discovery.

Military-Inspired Fashions

The “military look” in fashion comes and goes—epaulets, braid, and gold buttons adorn everything from evening dresses to T-shirts. And khakis are always in style. But people sporting military-inspired attire may not be aware of the practical military and battlefield origins of some of their favorite fashions. For example, thick loops of fancy braid weren’t put on coats to make them look pretty—the braids were there to protect a soldier’s shoulders from sword thrusts. And rows of silver buttons might be stylish today, but their original purpose was to act as spare ammunition.

Even though military style comes and goes, there are quite a few items of clothing with military origins that have become standard issue . . . er, attire.

Cardigans—sweaters that typically button down the front—are a fashion staple and wardrobe basic for men and women. For this legacy, we can thank 19th-century British military officer James Brudenell, who was famous (or infamous) for leading the bloody Charge of the Light Brigade at the Battle of Balaclava during the Crimean War. During the battle, Cardigan and his men charged their Russian adversaries, made some headway, but took many casualties and eventually had to retreat. For his efforts, Brudenell was named “the Hero of Balaclava” (despite some allegations that he hadn’t properly supplied his troops) and was celebrated throughout England. The knitted
waistcoat he wore became a fashion staple called the “cardigan,” because he was also the 7th Earl of Cardigan.

Look around any college campus and you’ll see a lot of “peacoats”: short, double-breasted navy blue woolen jackets with slash pockets and large, simple lapels. They’re warm, flatter a variety of figures, easy to get on and off, and long lasting.

The British Navy originally developed this jacket for its sailors in the early 1700s. The coat’s length allowed sailors to move quickly and easily around decks, and the double-button closure kept the coats from flying open in a gale or while climbing a mast. The pockets made it easy to quickly warm frozen hands, and the lapels could be flipped up for extra warmth. The U.S. Navy officially adopted peacoats in the early 1900s.

But why are they called “peacoats”? (They’re also sometimes known as “pea jackets” and “reefer coats.”) The name comes from a Dutch–West Frisian word for the heavy woolen cloth used to make them:
pij
. But have no fear—they’re heavy no longer. Originally 30 ounces in weight, today’s peacoat can be anywhere from 22 to 32 ounces.

One of most enduring fashions for both men and women is the trench coat. The traditional trench, a rather severe shade of olive brown called khaki, usually comes to the mid-calf. It had fringed shoulder decorations (called epaulets), a buckled belt with several metal loops along the bottom, straps at both wrists, and a button-in liner.

High-end designer Burberry makes coveted trench coats, and with good reason—Thomas Burberry invented the coat. He invented a fabric called gabardine, which is tightly woven wool. In 1901, he submitted a gabardine coat design to the British War Office. The Brits latched onto it immediately: Burberry’s fabric was lighter and more serviceable than the heavy wool typically used for officers’ greatcoats. By World War I, gabardine coats were common among British (and French) officers. The coat’s D rings were handy for hanging canteens, utility knives, and more, and
the epaulets allowed everyone to see an officer’s rank while he remained dry and warm. (Too bad for the lower ranks, who weren’t allowed to wear—or even purchase—them.) The coats got their name from their appearance in this war, too: officers wore them in the trenches all over Europe.