Holnap és hónap Nagy iX

What did the orange say to the apple at bedtime?
Sweet dreams.
Maybe it could work as a joke. Perhaps it should be a sour cherry talking to a normal cherry, or even the other way around for a piss-take. Am I making any sense?
Let's go back to the beginning.
Fábry: Ferihegy! Ki a Feri és hol van a hegy?
It was the first Hungarian joke I got and while Fábry may have his detractors, he remains for me the bridge to Hungarian humor. Again, I imagine, many Hungarians clambering to assure me that this is not the quintessence of Hungarian wit and while I'm sure it's not, as a foreigner getting a joke in the target language (however basic and unsophisticated…yawn) is the greater achievement. And listen maybe I am a paraszt in the Hungarian derogatory sense. Yokel, slack-jaw, redneck…you choose. I don't quite get the Little Aggressive Pig jokes. I'm merely of the opinion that that tool is a twat and he reminds too much of somebody unpleasant. Maybe this is the point… Maybe I'm still in the dark.
Anyway, why I brought up the original orange and apple “joke” was because years ago after drinking cider with my brother-in-common-law, I later texted him Szép alma-kat. He got it, and I had achieved a result, an originally coined joke in the target language. As for Fábry, feck* that bunkó ember 😁.
Now, trying the joke in Hungarian I might have said:
Mit mondott a narancs az almának a lefekvés ideje előtt (Google translate helped me)?
Szép almákat.
If you are Hungarian and you're not laughing, you're humourless, or worse you're racist! (Didn't say I was going to box fair now, did I?😁)
Conclusion: As a teacher, going the road of teaching jokes is dark and dangerous and only few of your charges will ever understand, or worse, pretend to.
As a student, be prepared for the fact that your joke is only funny to other target language as a foreign language learners. The native may be forever left flummoxed. Don't try to over-explain it. That just leads to embarrassment, or worse, anger and murderous rage. Well, hopefully that last part is an example of exaggeration.
Conclusion on the conclusion: As a teacher stick to the slapstick and if people insist on its base essence remind them of the comic genius of Charlie Chaplin, and be prepared to throw them an Andy Kauffman curveball (or Andy's equivalent in your native tongue).
And remember, teach like you want to not like you have to.

20180220_113712

Holnap és hónap to the nines

“I'm off to the Skyshop*” he announced.
Well, he could have said he was off to burn some shop too, but I was left none the wiser with that unconsoling thought.
“Okay” I replied meekly, afraid of being too non-committal. Maybe this was a desperate admission by a man who needed help from his friends, but this time at least he was going to have to get by without my little contribution.
He paused.
Shit
“ Aren't you even a little curious?” he asked.
I met his searching gaze with an attempt at a blasé expression.
He laughed.
I was undone.
“Well, I'm off then.”
“Alright then” trying to muster up some feigned notion of courage.
Again he laughed, rather bellowed actually.
“See you some day then…and don't let them catch you hanging around…or they'll crucify you upside down.”
The smile washed from his face as he uttered these last words.
Always prophetic, I now took his words to heart.
“You'll be alright” and with that he was gone.
“Jesus” I ventured into the void but he was gone, back to his father's kingdom I suppose.
Sons of God, huh. Contrary folk at the best of times.
“Peter!” a voice beckoning from the nearby taverna.
“Alright Mary.”
Mothers of God. Impatient at the best of times.
*Égbolt

20180220_113712

Trudell’s* Therapy

In the dappled moment deranged
The orange glow growing
Cancer chosen again.
The despair spelled out in Circus
The cold brought in from the spy
Douma denounced, despaired over, denied.
Sabre rattling no more
Giants braving the brawl
Borders inundated, shattered -
No divisions in blood.
A child's nightmare comforted
While one’s own sleep deprived
Fists pummelling the shadows, haunted again,
The dark days returned.
And the people despair
Or delight or don't care
And the people morphed out again:
No men in no man's land.

 

 *John Trudell

The Black Fume

Degree drops from

The digital display.

Once as hot as hell

Now unbearably less.

There is a coolness

For the damned.

In the soft yellow-orange of sunset,

There may yet be respite.

For the meek there

Is nothing, not till

The very end.

They don’t shelter

In the glory of shadows

And the rising and the setting

of all things celestial.

Their wait is longer –

Bound in time,

If legitimate,

But maybe not their lifetime,

And therefore,

They may never know.

“If I die into nothing

I will forever remain ignorant,

Unknowing as to

My own fate.”

Amen

 

©TheHairyTeacher2013

2013-01-31 21.18.06
About Me

If asked I’d say I’m:

a teacher, a philosopher, a father, and a writer but only a fool, I believe, would dare give this order a significance.

I believe in the day to day, and that “Men make their own importance”.

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