A crisis of relevance??????? Poppycosh she said!

Poppycosh is one of those words.  You know the one’s that joyfully roll off the tongue (like spatula) and make you wrinkle your nose (like balaclava) and chuckle just a little. Poppycosh??????? Then I say, makes me want to write a whole post on Poppycosh.

Turns out you really can’t write a whole post on poppycosh (now downgraded to all lower case) because basically it’s chicken and dumplings with paprika.  And I think we’re even saying it wrong. Isn’t it supposed to be Paprikash?

It sounds like one of those words my mother-in-law would use.  I’m thinking of her today as I’m writing this as it’s her birthday.  She would have been 92 if she were still with us.  If she were still with us would I be where I am…let’s not go there. She was a love but she had a few words she used for things that…I’m not sure were words. Or they were some mash up of Polish and something. But I digress.

Anyway, Urban Dictionary defines poppycosh as a random shout of joy.  Like actually shouting the word poppycosh, I don’t think so.  Is that what they do at Urban Dictionary?

So far my best research on the word brought me here:

So I think what my summer sister was trying to tell me was:

In other words, bullshit…

While I love the plethora of synonyms for poppycock, bullshit seems to be the one that I can most get my head around.  What the hell does that say about me?

It says a lot actually.  In the scheme of evaluating one’s relevance (which is where this whole thing started) are we really just bullshitting ourselves?  Is it up to us to decide where we fall on the relevance scale or does each person we interact with have the honor of deciding that for themselves?  As Wayne Dyer says, what other people think of us is none of our business.  With that in mind, and with my mantra of living my life the way I want my story told in tow, I’m butting out of the relevance thing.

I’m pretty sure you’ll decide.  POPPYCOSH!!!!! she shouted with joy…