Now I proudly thought I had said all there was to say about sneezing in a poem years ago, but pondering that "nothing to sneeze about" phrase, I find that there's more, much more. Think about it, is there anything more uncontrollable, more of-a-mind-of-its-own, more totally involuntary, more inarguably and unequivocally inevitable than a simple sneeze? Hell, in comparison death and taxes are mere nuisances relatively procrasinatable (to coin a word I've meaning to for some time now). I mean, every other bodily function/annoyance (burps, farts, coughs, giggles, nature's calls, indelicate itches, even [outside the group shower scenario] arousals) can be somewhat diverted, delayed, suppressed, hidden, squelched, tempered, muted, etc., but a sneeze knows no brooking. Yes, shit does happen, but usually, hopefully, on one's own terms, but sneezes are wholly immediate; the phrase should be sneeze happens, shouldn't it?
And what an experience a sneeze is. There's the instant, oh God here it comes feeling (and is there any incident in life that is more limbo-inducing than waiting for that sneeze to arrive if it doesn't immediately follow the here-it-comes feeling?), the wind-up (the bracing yourself and the searching frantically for something to sneeze into), the skull-rattling explosion (and, if it isn't true I can't confirm it and don't wanna try, the fact/myth that it's impossible to sneeze with your eyes open or you'll blow them out along with all your phlegm [I just sneezed, btw, looking up phlegm to make sure of it's spelling--Good God, can I be allergic to the dictionary?], which makes me think what if Malcolm McDowell had to sneeze when they were filming that part of A Clockwork Orange where his eyes are kept open--did he get extra pay for risking his eyes like that?),
But then, with all of its inevitability and uncontrollability, I cannot think of one famous real-life (as opposed to Woody Allen's cocaine-induced sneeze in Annie Hall) sneeze. Ever. Can you? Think of all the live, real-life action that's been caught on tape/film for more than a hundred years. Can you remember any famous/infamous sneeze? Kind of hard to believe, isn't it? I wasn't around at the time, but JFK's inauguration looked pretty cold--is it that hard to imagine "Ask not what your AAAACCCCHHHHHOOOOO country can do ... "? (and while we're on the subject, I know there's a strange fetish out there for everybody, but really, is a sneeze ever sexy? Don't think so. I mean if Marilyn Monroe had sneezed during her "Happy Birthday, Mr. President" sultry rendition, would it still be so devastatingly hot nearly fifty years later? Nah.) Lincoln's Gettysburg Address took place on November 19--wouldn't it be great to discover some crude recording of it where Lincoln, on a probably chilly, here-comes-winter-folks day sneezes right in the middle? Tell me Walter Cronkite, Regis Philbin, or even Sally Jesse Raphael, in all their TV time, never had the sniffles that resulted in an on-air sneeze. I don't believe it. And yet, where's the evidence? Fascinating.
But back to the "sneeze at" phrase. Beyond it's how-in-the-hell-did-that-phrase-come-about nature, doesn't it imply that one can sneeze at will? Now we all know (or least did know in sixth grade) those gross magicians who could burp and fart on demand, but have you ever known anybody who could sneeze on demand (ignoring the existential question of whether anybody would so desire)? It seems that as inevitable as a sneeze is, it is just as impossible to conjure one without some olfactory or tactile stimulus. Could there be anything scarier than someone pointing a gun at you and saying, "I'll give you five seconds to sneeze or I'll blow you away"? Outside of Chaz Bono tapping you on the shoulder asking for this dance, I think not. Sneezes, thus, are the ultimate ineffable currency--you can't get them when you want them or avoid them when you've got them (which might be why they provoke a "God bless you" like nothing else; sneezes are godlike like nothing else [incidentally, it seems people used to believe the soul left the body during sneezes, thus the blessing to safeguard people at such a vulnerable time]).
And so, I did some research. Boiled down, it seems that a few hundred years ago (interestingly, the 17th century, when Reason was all the vogue) people believed that a sneeze was a sound way to clear the mind. So the elites took to all means and manners to induce sneezes in themselves (hello, snuff!; so, in effect, sneezers were the original 1%), and sneezing in public became a sort of social status thing. Which then, overuse being what it is, evolved into conjuring a sneeze only to show boredom or derision. So, you sneezed at something you didn't like or at the least didn't interest you. Thus, something that was important, or at least interesting, was "nothing to be sneezed at." God I love language.
And so, cuddle your cats, sniff some pepper, or pull a nosehair out--there's plenty to sneeze at in this day and age, and it seems to me about time we start full-scale sneeze assaults on those things, if only to revivify that great phrase and give some much needed value to those things in life (there are still some, I truly believe) which are not to be sneezed at. Beyond the present plights of Cher, Steven Tyler, and Denise Richards (in Denise's case, her regret only; do your best, boys, to squelch all sneezes in the presence [real or imagined] of those implants),
may I suggest a rather spontaneous, off-the-top-of-my-head-and-by-no-means-exhaustive list of some things that should be sneezed at with full gusto:
- political debates for at least the next 12 months
- any member of the media talking about the media
- talk of the revamping of the Boston Red Sox
- Tony Romo
- anything about hipsters
- anything involving the phrase "Steve Jobs would have..."
- anything negative about bacon
- LeBron James on anything except the joys of a manicure
- Mitch McConnell
- anything using the word "buzz" that doesn't involve astronauts or apiaries
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