The cold shoulder, and other acts of farte.
Motör: Gossip is the practice of saying nothing
in such a way as practically nothing's left unsaid."
No, neither the title nor its relationship to faith is going to be explained in the foregoing body of the article (or corpus articulorum as it's called in Divines), art fate and fart(s) notwithstanding.
Instead, let us focus our attention on the expression "giving the cold shoulder", a self-evidently meaningful construction elaborately misinterpreted by deplorably literate others.
Firstly, let's deal with the incorrectly dubbed "folksy" etymology nevertheless correctly deemed incorrect which proposes some nonsense about how serving a cold shoulder of mutton to unwanted guests is now or ever was at any point in the past sufficiently popular a passive-aggressive approach to not-really-saying-it-nor-really-shutting-the-fuck-up (also spelled "Massachusetts" in American English, in recognition of that state's principal export article throughout its history) as to remain enshrined in the language. This isn't so. Done.
We move on to the incorrectly dubbed "correct" etymology needlessly involving the name of Walter Scott in the messi, whereby the quote
Ye may mind that the Countess's dislike did na gang farther at first than just shewing o' the cauld shouther—at least it wasna seen farther; but at the lang run it brak out into such downright violence that Miss Neville was even fain to seek refuge at Knockwinnock castle with Sir Arthur's leddy.
is retrofitted in English boughs such that "cauld" becomes cold and "shouther" becomes shoulder and the whole thing wraps further down in dederunt umerum recedentem not to mention ἔδωκαν νῶτον ἀπειθοῦντα all "borrowed" from an old Nehemiah report on something to do with backs, rather in the vein of "turning their backs". Needless to say there's nothing needed to be said on this nonsense.
The could cold sholder shoulder -- boy is English spelling an accountant's opioid dream -- is neither a religious nor a culinary experience, nor does it discuss either epiphenomena or paraphenalia of neither activity. Perhaps I should have said "[...] is not either a religious or a culinary experience, nor does it discuss neither epiphenomena or paraphenalia of either activity" ? Or wait, it could've been "[...] is not a religious or a culinary experience, neither does it discuss either epiphenomena or paraphenalia of neither activity" just as well. Which is it, does anyone even know how this absurd pile of an alleged language is even supposed to work, at all ? Or do you all just throw some words at the spinning machine and hope for the BarBarBarbest ? Maybe it rolls three cherries, maybe it's all bedecked in 7s, buncha barbarians...
Anyways, the forever and abiding mode of sexual, not to mention elementarily social human relation's the man joining the sleeping woman in her bed. Because women nunt and men behest or whatever the fuck it is in Scottlish. Bedding in human society has for a long time now consisted of sheets and covers, and there's from that ontology necessarily following exactly two manners of using the latter : the girlish style of the cover over the shoulder, reaching to the ears (which I for myself prefer) and the womanly style of cover under the arm, reaching just above the teats. Why women sleep like this I do not know, but it may be perhaps supposed. Be all that as it may, a woman turning her back on her bed's invader's very much a sexual invitation, in a specific way, which is why and wherefore the Vulgaterian "etymologists" with spurious pretenses to cavorting with a science that stubbornly eludes them are stuck explaining how and wherefore the Latin's back's become a shoulder.
The fact of the matter is that men very much enjoy a woman's body's warmth, and that may not be entirely unrelated to the very invention of beds in the first place, so she may better cultivate that most delightful quality of hers which starts in her slumber right underneath her teats and spreads to belly and to thighs and all about her. Who knows, perhaps the invention of the bed doubles and undergirths the discovery of warm water, both "technological advances" spurred by and dedicated as intended for sexual enhancement of the enslaved sex.
If she sleeps like women sleep, there's exactly one part of her that won't be what you like to feel : the one (of two) shoulders that were above the covers. That's the only material, worldly, unintimately disinjoyable part of her.
So let her give it to other people then, what.
PS. I started writing a book, yesterday morning. With any luck it'll be done by tomorrow sometime. For the first time in many years I have help writing it, which is rather a sort of fun I didn't know I missed.
PPS. In 1913, Elda became the fifth wife of DeWolf Hopper, whose previous wives were named Ella, Ida, Edna and Nella. As he would sometimes call her by the name of one of his former wives, she paid a numerologist $10 to come up with a new name for her. The result was "Hedda".
———- Just because all sorts of wayward little girls enjoy saying "sir" so very much (exactly as they should, being specifically made to) yet can't quite bring themselves to saying it to the right people at the right times is very poor cause for involving random Scotts in general affairs. Let the kirkweirdos masturbate in peace, it's eminently a private act, meaning it doesn't matter to anyone else, alrite ? [↩]
