Tolerance is not my favorite word. Well, actually I don’t like it very much at all. In fact, I detest it! It is eeeviiiiill. I hate it! I hate it! I hate it! If I was in charge (don’t worry, no one would be witless enough to give me any power), I would enact a law that states if anyone is caught using this word (or even if they’re not caught!), he or she can choose one of two penalties for his punishment: 1) immediate public beheading performed by spouse, or, 2) being subjected to the wannabe words ‘yada yada yada’ 4,836 times in a row. Personally I would choose #1. But since I’m remaining objective here I will abstain from saying so.
Why, you may ask, would I choose such extreme penalties as these? To this, I have only one answer: I am an extremely tolera—oops, I mean lenient guy. I mean, if I really wanted to get nasty I would choose to punish the Tolerant Society by secluding myself to some remote island so no one would ever hear from me again; fortunately though, I’m too nice a guy.
I suppose I should explain why I take the position I do about ‘t-word’. I can think of two reasons:
First, the definition of ‘t-word’ carries a negative connotation. It means to put up with; to forbear begrudgingly. Take, for example, the following two sentences regarding two three-year-old friends. One describes ‘t-word,’ one doesn’t:
1) Johnny told Sally he guessed he’d just have to risk the potential for emotional instability being friends with her would cause him, since his best friend, four-year-old Stevie, had said to him, ‘Sally is not exactly a charmer.’
2) Johnny told Sally to go hang herself on his pappy’s hog slaughtering meat hook.”
Can you tell which of these is pro-‘t-word?’ If not, let me explain it to you like I was in 4th grade: The first sentence depicts the amoral rationale of the multifacetudinously exponentiality of the directive proffered in the Conciliatory Conference held in Dwain’s basement when we were tired of playing PlayStation (Dwain is my other best friend). Unlike the first sentence, which was full of PC BS (politically correct fertilizer, for those of you in higher ed.), the second one establishes a clear, if not lucid, description of why just three days later Sally was found firmly ensconced in the air on…oh nevermind.
Here is why the scenario described in sentence two, the anti-‘t-word’ sentence, is preferred. If you were Johnny, would you like to feel pressured to put up with Sally even though you didn’t like her? Or would you prefer to be honest and truthful—in other words, have her killed? Don’t answer that. (Note: Sally’s viewpoint was not represented here due to her untimely passing.)
The second reason I object to ‘t-word’ is because those who spread it—The Almighty I Know What is Best For Society Scholars—would have the rest of us numbnuts’ believe that we should all join hands in a big circle, sing Kumbaya, and whisper sweet nothings into each others’ ears. Frankly, this would be okay with me because I need a vacation. But, unfortunately, since I’ve used up all my vacation time cutting down 900 year old sequoias in the Amazon, I think I’ll just have to wait until next year.