Freudian Faux Pas

“Hello. My name is Marty. And your name is. . .”

I leaned forward and squinted to see the name on her identification badge.

“Angus. Nice to meet you, Angus.”

“It’s Agnus, you insulting twit!” she barked as she spun around and walked away.

In my defense, she was a rather large person.

But let’s talk about parapraxis, more commonly known as the Freudian Slip.

Sigmund Freud, known as the father of psychoanalysis, lived from 1855 to 1939 and was born in Freiberg, Austria. He is known for his theories of id, ego, super-ego, repression, and the Oedipus complex (which has nothing in common with the Odeon Theater complex).

Basically, Freud’s theories are far beyond what my mind can comprehend so I would be foolish to try to explain any of them, but his Freudian Slip, or as we call it today, the slip of the tongue, refers to accidentally speaking a word out of context which may be what you are subconsciously thinking in the background.

In other words, what you are thinking in your inner being somehow gets past all the mind filters and blurts out at the most inappropriate moment.

Chevy Chase illustrated this in his National Lampoon Vacation movies. Every time he would speak to a beautiful woman, inappropriate words would pop out replacing what the love-struck buffoon was actually trying to say.

Another current classic example is seen on YouTube called, Pitch his Tent. A church Pastor was using an illustration of the Old Testament story of Lot, and Sodom and Gomorrah. He means to say, “Lot pitched his tents.” What came out of his mouth and made him a YouTube phenomenon was, “Lot pinched his t*ts.”

Actors and orators have the same problems. They know the dialog, they may even be reading the dialog, and when they get to a certain word, their brains won’t allow them to say it, so some inaudible word pops out.

I once got my grandkids together in the kitchen. I asked them to say the words: Papa Yah. Then I asked them to say it again and again, each time faster. After about the eighth time, I held up a store-bought jar with Papaya written across the label.

“What’s in this jar?” I asked.

“Papa yah.” they said. Even though they knew that wasn’t what it was called, their brains wouldn’t allow them to say, papaya.

I have found that for me, there is a definite mind to mouth disconnect. I know what I want to say, but by the time it exits my mouth, it comes out completely different and might possibly be an awkward comment which I would never purposely say.

One time in high school I was joking with a female friend. This young lady had a large nose. My intention was to jokingly say, “Wipe that smile off your face.” What shockingly came out of my mouth was, “Wipe that face off your nose.”

Cheryl always reminds me to think, process, then speak.

She was at a church auction where I was the auctioneer. Sometime during one of the biddings, which I was driving up, I apparently let out a profane word which caught the attention of the audience. I flatly denied using any profanity in the heat of the bidding and until someone produces a clip of me on YouTube saying it, I’m innocent until proven guilty. It could be though, that one of those little varmints slipped through my filter and escaped in the stampede of words.

My final example of the Freudian Slip, which I am most ashamed of, took place at the Salvation Army camp on Lummi Island. Each day, I would drive my 40 passenger Bluebird bus filled with elementary school kids from Bellingham to the ferry and across to the camp.

One day, as the bus pulled to a stop at the camp, we were met by the high school age counselors. One of the boys was extremely overweight. He wore a tee shirt from a 70s rock band. Printed across the front was their logo saying, FOGHAT.

I walked up and complimented him by saying, “Cool shirt. Hogfat.”

What? My eyes saw FOGHAT, but my subconscious brain translated it to hogfat.

Unlike Agnus, I was able to quickly correct my mistake with the boy with no hard feelings.

My mantra for each day is, think, process, then speak. Cheryl even has it written on the refrigerator door. Oh yes, and my goal in life is to repair the holes in my filters.

Sigmund would have his hands full analyzing this old boy.

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