Anyone who ever spent any time as a kid in the city - what they call an Urban Environment these days - knows the fine art of playing the dozens.
It is a verbal art form of sorts, one that developed and was perfected in the African-American community. It’s easy enough to play: All you do is get two or more people together and have them shout an ever-escalating series of insults at each other until everything devolves into a street brawl.
Insults that begin with the words “Yo’ mama...” are popular. Directing insults - especially ones involving sexual derogation - at your opponent’s mother is especially effective at bringing things to a rapid boil.
“Yo’ mama is so ugly, she gotta hang a pork chop around her neck to get the dog to come to her.”
“Yo’ mama got no problem getting the dog to come to her. The dog is the one with the problem.”
Playing the dozens in the suburbs is fun, too, but it seems to be missing something.
“Your mother loses at Bunco.”
“Your mother buys her clothes at T J Maxx and shoves them into a Nordstrom bag so everyone thinks she bought her clothes at Nordstrom.”
“Your mother thinks Jimmy Choo is a kind of bubble gum.”
I got to thinking about the dozens for the sole, completely stupid reason that today is 12-12-12. Which, as we all know, is three dozen.
My suggestion? At twelve minutes and twelve seconds after noon, eat a dozen eggs (or better yet, a dozen doughnuts) and drink a couple of six-packs. That way, you’d be doing 12 and 12 at 12:12:12 on 12-12-12.