Flimsy Whimsy: Holy

“Holy smokes!” is the only ‘holy’ idiom that indicates knowledge to me. And I don’t mean incense. I am not a religious man. Please don’t infer that I hate religion or devout people by this. I do not want to infuriate or cause emotional disturbance of any kind in my human brethren. You are welcome to your sects, utterances of devotion, and congregations of brotherhood. If it works wear it. On your sleeve if you must. The others just don’t move my brain, even a smidgen. Admittedly my brain may be stubborn, resistant to change by anything other than seduction promises. Even that’s becoming rarer with age.

A cow is holy for the Hindus. So are a lot of other things, but you don’t express amazement with “Holy mountain!” or “Holy river!” I would venture to guess that Hindus don’t ever use ‘Holy cow!”

“Holy mackerel!” and “Holy mackinaw!” come out of that quaint Newfoundland language, and together are debated akin to the overdone chicken and egg argument over which came first. It would seem some lucky fisherman was celebrating his haul and got slurry with speech. Nearby, another was slurry with hearing and one or the other slogan was born. Somehow it lasted. But a fish and a coat don’t seem particularly teeming with religiosity. Not to me.

Then there’s “Holy Moses!” But why Moses? There are several more biblical persons that could easily be introduced by that sanctified adjective. Why not “Holy Paul!”, for instance?

So, being a simple man, I’ll just stick to “smokes”. When I feel the need to sense the divine I’ll just step outside, have a visit with Nic, the backyard cousin of Paddy O’Deck, and calm myself all down so Boss can tolerate my ranting without throwing more sharp stuff that stings.