It's Rothschild's circle of friends that offend me

     Commissioner Richard Rothschild, in a momentary (?) lapse of propriety, used a term that -- well, it means collective masturbatory activity -- on live television. It has, of course, become viral, spinning now through the ethernet, playing on a laptop (excuse that choice of words) near you (yoiks!).
     I for one would not make too much of it.
     For one thing, we all know that any reference to collective activity is anathema to our resident Mountain Man; he scorns any hint of overly social collaboration, is the champion of the rugged individualist, espousing that one should achieve nervana by one's own wits and deft skills.
     Secondly, it would be the ultimate hypocrisy for me, of all people, to chastise another for a salty vocabulary. I can show you a blistered portion of wall in a booth at Harry's resulting from a dab of ketchup that defied my best hand-mouth coordination and landed on my brand-new, first-day-off-the-shelf yellow power tie. My former assistant, Dave Humbert, still has bad dreams from all the images I conjured up for him.
      And, yes, while you can make the case that someone who has achieved a position of high office should show more respect for the time and place of colorful expression, Mr. Rothschild maintains a certain innocence; he did not realize the meaning of the term, he says. I wonder if he ever heard a compound word beginning with "cluster," used by some to describe, perhaps, the first weeks of this board of commissioners?
     Frankly, it strains reasonable credibility to ask us to believe that Mr. Rothschild never knew the meaning of the term. This is the man who has predicated almost every contribution he has made to the public dialog with, "I have some knowledge of that," or, "I have had a great deal of experience in that area."
     You don't have to be a man of the world to know something about locker-room language. My Aunt Minnie might be clueless, but I doubt she has spent much time lately in the company of middle school boys, or the military, where they run off copies of the vocabulary list needed to survive out there among man/boys, whether it is the field of battle, golf course, or board room.
     Maybe Rothschild has led a more sheltered life that we thought. In any case, I don't fret the words. I worry about the company he keeps, the ideas he serves, the rants he goes on, and the influence he has on processes that affect really important facets of life for people he has essentially dismissed.
     It also bothers me that when there was a quick negative reaction to his public comments, he had Steve Powell, chief of staff, in what has to be a low point in his career,  issue a disclaimer -- not exactly an apology, but an excuse: Mr. Rothschild did not know what the term meant, and he was truly amazed and embarrassed when it was explained to him.
     No one but Mr. Rothschild should have to carry that bucket.