The Greatest Word of All Time

Freedom
Originally uploaded by kafkas_undies.

English is a Germanic language. It's a fact. Yet in spite of its elite linguistic tutelage, English has proven itself a pupil sub par. It is the posterchild for video game addicted after school detention specimen who skips class NOT to attend museum exhibitions or foreign films or to explore the land. English skips class because he forgot to set the alarm. (And yes, English is a male. His middle name is Patriarchy, after all.)

You look well funded in the time department so how about a quick trip in my time machine? Its German engineering renders safety concerns unnecessary, so you can forego the whining and hop in. I promise I'll have you back before you're eligible for AARP membership. Ok. We are traveling back to a time when careers were a thing of lineage. Trade genetics, if you will. Your father was a deserted battle field scavenger? The future looks grim, eh? Eh. Or maybe daddy was a chamber pot scrubber who did a little bountyhunting on the side. Someone's got to do it and after him, it'll be you. Now imagine that in this time of assured squalor and indentured servitude, you are lucky enough to be born into a household headed by one of History's greatest languages. You call him Papa. Everyone else uses Most Honorable Germanic Excellence, I Am Not Worthy. Or some such.

Yes, your father's loins produced little brother Russian and now you, little red-faced English, are the newest edition to the family. You're with me, right? This is better than royalty, for you avoid all that others-plotting-against-you crap, you can marry anyone you want, and there's no pressure to produce male heirs. But the coup de grace is that you, little baby English, have far more influence than anyone who's ever worn a crown. Power is the backbone of your double helixes. Exercise that power wisely and you'll make Papa proud. Exercise it haphazardly or not at all and you, sonny, are out of the will. Oh. You. Tee. Out. You become the token black sheep relative whose name is avoided in all family get-together conversation.

So you're born into this life of luxury. Smart infant languages would not squander such a sacred opportunity. But what do you do? Follow in Daddy's linguistically nuanced tradition? Incorporate the best parts of his identity and then spritz with a little l'eau du you? No. You decide the whole learning-from-a-master thing isn't your style. You decide instead to habitually stay out late, "boozing and using ¹." Why not when you can just push through subsequent morning hell by feigning consciousness during Papa's lessons? Why not? I'll tell you why not. Because you are an embarrassment to your father, to ambition, and to Spanglish. You even make Piglatin blush. Thanks to your academic laxity and your fondness for mead, you neglected to absorb the greatest word of all time. As a result, your vernacular lineage is marked by a giant hole that sits precisely where the greatest word of all time could have been. And when I say greatest word of all time, I mean like best ever and stuff times infinity. Like totally.

That word is schadenfreude. English has no equivalent. It is a noun and it means pleasure derived from someone else's misfortune and like I said before, it is the greatest word of all time.

And I know I promised you a ride back, but the tank looks empty. I hope you brought gas money.

¹ Thanks, Amy Sedaris.