Common Sense Political Thought

Few outside of the health professions hear or use the word smegma in everyday conversation. It is defined as the cheesy substance that builds up under the foreskin of an uncircumcised male and there is a female occurrence.

I first heard the word when I was in my teens. I was complaining to my wise Uncle George (there was a vile uncle with the same name but that is another tale) about girls who seemed to prefer low-life types to someone with my wonderful attributes. I said that I could understand if they were wealthy or handsome or brilliant or great athletes but why would some appealing young lady prefer a relative bum to me? My uncle opined: “Maybe she has a taste for smegma.” He uttered the word in tones of total disdain. I had never spoken the word but I somehow knew the meaning.

Decades, and many loves later, I found myself in a similar situation. The object of my affection was R. She was both attractive and sweet. Our relationship would deteriorate after some old friend would drift into her life. I gave up and went off with someone else. Our paths crossed again and success seemed possible. Again the old cycle returned. I remembered my Uncle’s words of wisdom and started a bit of a sour grapes jest with the four year old son of mutual friends. His parents were friends of R’s and he referred to us as aunt and uncle. I would ask him the name of Auntie R’s favorite cheese and he would respond ‘Smegma’.

The jest went beyond the household. While the boy was in pre-school, a teacher told his mother that her son had made some strange statements. The first was: “Uncle Art is crazy.” When asked why, he told the teacher: “He says that Auntie R’s favorite cheese is smegma”. It was obvious to the mother that the teacher did not know the meaning of the word. The mother was pregnant at the time and asked me not to teach the next child the word.

I honored the request and substituted the phrase: “Fromage d’amour.” This prompted another report from a pre-school teacher as follows:

Teacher: “What languages are spoken at your home?”

Mom: ”English. My husband sometimes speaks Swedish on the phone to relatives and does joke around with a friend (me) in German. Why did you ask?”

Teacher: “There is a French child in the class and he said that Eric was speaking French.”

Mom figured out the phrase that was used and I was told that future use of the cheesy term in any language or form was verboten.

I began a new game with the word with the mother. I would enter those fake contests under the name of “Dick Smegma” with her address and phone number. The telemarketers would always call. One a mutual friend stopped by and he answered the phone as a courtesy. The caller wanted to speak to a Mister Smegeema and my friend turned the phone over to the lady of the house. After the name was mispronounced a second time, she said: “That’s not how you say the word and both of us have been had.

Both kids are in their teens and they do use the word to express various forms of disdain.

Perhaps my effort to popularize an underutilized word might make me a verbal analog to Johnny Appleseed.

I should note that there are two musical groups that have adopted the name. I was recently sent some links that I will forward upon request if anyone is interested.

A friend who learned the word from me asked a young lady in a wine and cheese store if she had any smegma. When she said that she did not recognize the name, he offered to help her look for it but she showed no interest in making such a search.

In the words of Brian: “Blessed are the Cheesemakers.” Never forget the dairy interests and protect your local mohel.