Terms of endearment on Douchebaggery Ranch are somewhat different from what you might be used to. This is partially due to my Turkish upbringing, where calling a child “you little son of a donkey” is equivalent to “mama’s little angel”, and partially due to the sheer amount of assholery that is exchanged among the residents on a daily basis.
Common praises on DR include the following:
1) “Good morning buttheads!” (My standard greeting for the goats during Morning Rounds)
2) “Aren’t you my pretty little birdbrains?” (My show of admiration for the chickens, whom I am really quite proud of)
3) “Who’s my little shithead? Who’s my little piddlestick?” (Frequent exchange of affection with Oscar the cairn terrier, who responds with a furiously wagging tail)
You get the idea. The statements above are not meant to be insults, though a lot of outsiders get mortally offended, thinking I purposely belittle my fellow fur-and-feather companions. This couldn’t be further from the truth. If it was possible to reword the same sentences into “normal world” language, they would roughly read:
1) “Good morning, playful creatures whom I like more than I’d like to admit!”
2) “Aren’t you good-looking, egg-laying, much-appreciated-despite-your-low-intelligence birds?”
3) “Who’s my little tailwaggy dog whom I can’t get mad at no matter how much trouble he gets into and how many times he pisses in the house, because I love him far too much?”
See? It doesn’t quite work the same way- far too much is lost in translation. Besides, mushy doesn’t fit into farm life, unless it’s the kind you step on.
It’s all about communication, after all, and I’m pretty sure the little asshats know exactly what I mean. Sometimes, words are what you make of them.