The media introduced mofo to my vocabulary in an attempt to get Hone Harawira’s message across without causing offence.
Now Jim Hopkins has added fomo:
You’re a fomo, Hone; a foul mouth.
Hopkins understands Harawira’s motivation:
Because, for you, the best way to show us redneck bigots how angry you really are about those all white mofos “raping our lands and ripping us off for centuries” was to have a weekend in Paris.
Way to go, dude! That’ll teach da man! You’re saying, loud and clear, frank and fomo so no mofo can miss the point, “You stole my land. I’m going to an art gallery.” Whoooa! That’s not so much an eye for an eye as an Eiffel for an Eiffel. Bad history = a good holiday; an equation Voltaire would surely endorse.
“Apre moi le detour”.
He gets Harawira’s pain:
You’re saying, in essence, “Somebody I didn’t know did something awful to somebody else I didn’t know a long time ago when I wasn’t there. And that makes me angry.”
And best of all Hopkins has a solution:
Trouble is . . . All history is dead, Hone. It’s over. The awful thing about history is that you can’t change it. But, the wonderful thing about history is you can invent it. And reinvent it. And keep on inventing it.
There isn’t one history, Hone, there’s a thousand.
Clearly, the history you’ve created is making you a very unhappy Hone. It could even be causing constipation. So make another history, sir. Your ancestors played for both teams, so to speak.
You’re Polypean, Euronesian, whichever you prefer. And, like many others in Outer Roa, proof our predecessors spent as much time in the bedroom as on the battlefield. . .
These extracts don’t do the column justice, you can read it in full here.