Macs have this cool feature, the so-called “force-touch” touchpads. You double-press the touchpad and it brings up definitions, translations, obscenities and so forth. I was messing around and eventually force-touched the word “Berti”; the surname of a longtime abstract platonic love.
A definition appeared, from Wikipedia, no less. Coat-of-arms; names, successful people.
Foreknowing the result, I tried the same with “Gutz,” which returned me:
No definition found.
Unbeknown, my “Gutz” is socially insignificant, a label of anonymous, invisible people.
Which might be a good thing: we could use “Gutz” to ascribe names to anonymous, dead people.
For instance. A 40-year-old fellow, who used to gather paper box for 2 cents a pound, killed by Covid-19. Family devoid, he’s deceased in a random hallway; no one knew his name; some called him a “catador,” the one who harvests trash in exchange for a couple of smokes.
Such a nameless fellow, now nameless and lifeless, is to be called “Gutz.”
To distinguish one nameless lifeless fellow from another, we would add a code related to the causa mortis, accompanied by a number specifying what he was laboring for to avoid demise in the first place.
Thus, The Nameless Lifeless Trash Plucker becomes “Gutz-Covid-2020.08.16b112,” in which “2020.08.16” appoints the supposed date of death and “b112” the act of gathering and selling trash in exchange for a couple of smokes.
As expected, there would be a code list with historically insignificant, socially invisible human activities, such as picking up trash or selling poetry in crossings. The same way Canadian authorities attribute a “NOC” code to potential new Vancouverites.
So there we have,
Gutz.
• A globally recognized definition for the anonymously deceased;
• A methodology for classifying anonymous dead people, especially under catastrophic circumstances.
Force-touch me into History, Apple.
