The Pelotão Effect

When I was an exchange student in Brazil, I lived in a town called Franca in which also lived a old crazy man. His name was known by no one that I knew, but he was nicknamed by all the local children as "pelotão" or "big pellet"... which were the size of the rocks he threw as he ran and cursed after any kid daring to call him "pelotão" (which, coincidentally was pretty much every kid in Franca).

The question is, why did the kids call this man "pelotão" when they knew that it meant having a 70-year-old coot chasing after them chucking pebbles? Because it was cruel? No: Because it was entertaining. Pelotão was never mistreated... never abused... just had that one word shouted at him across the Plaza Centrale. He sat in a bar surrounded by other men in town who brought him drinks, consoled him about the mean children, and who all waited patiently for school to get out so that they could laugh at the gangly limbs and shock of gray hair go bolting down the street while they held his beer for him.

Pelotão was fun. He just didn't know it. He was a puppet with a "key word" that the kids played with and the adults enjoyed.

Occasionally a kid would get knocked loopy by a pelotão pellet, and then everyone would say "Well, that's what you get." The kid would go home half crying, half laughing. Pelotão would go back to his bar stool with a grim satisfaction, and the local guys would supply another Cerveca Chopp, and the whole process would begin again.

And that is my take on the whole "Danish Cartoon" brouhaha: Secretly, we all love to see muslims go batshit about some stupid little insult, burning flags and embassies, and turning countries upside down because of something that we perceive as peurile and petty. Secretly, we love the fact that the muslim world is so unsteady that a simple cartoon (!)... 10 minutes of work and 10 milliliters of paint... could upend and enrage a billion people for months on end.

Besides... after we are done laughing at the muslims, we'll be sure to buy them a beer.