Clusterfub

By Jeff Hendershott

The first thing I did when I sat down to compose another one of my masterpieces for JonahWorld was, as one would guess, go to the dictionary to look up the formal definition of the word "Clusterfub" (OK, OK, you know what I'm talking about, but I must use "Clusterfub" because it wouldn't be couth to use R. Lee Ermey's pronunciation of the word.  And besides, my curious 8-year old is always looking over my shoulder when I'm on the computer). [And also, I wouldn’t print it on my site. – Jonah]

I found nothing in the dictionary.  So, since this is the Information Age (my definition of the Information Age:  An era where everyone has email and cell phones, but you STILL can't reach people when you need to!), I did an Internet search which also proved futile.  What I found were blogs of people discussing what they think the word clusterfub means, or what it means to them.

None were worth quoting, in my humble opinion.  However, a consensus among bloggers seems to be that the word originated with the Marine Corps, something about too many chiefs leading too few Indians (translation mine).  That's kind of how I view a clusterfub in my little corner of the world.

At work (were if I didn't know better would be clusterfub defined), we simply refer to a situation as "a cluster" when in polite company (rare), "a clusterfub" when we feel a little more risky, and the pure pronunciation of "clusterfub" 90% of the time (a gentleman's word in the world in which I work!).

Clusterfubs are becoming more and more commonplace.  I don't want to take this little essay beyond the point of logic and start having to go into detail because, the fact of the matter is, I'm a little worn out after 8 hours of another clusterfub.  Yet in looking back upon my illustrious career as a burger-flipper, janitor, security officer, and teacher, I can see where to one extent or another I've earned my hard-earned pay typically in the midst of one clusterfub or another.

Since money, in my worldview, aside from sex, is one of the prime motivators of human nature, and times being what they are, this is how I conclude that living and working in the midst of clusterfubs is becoming a distinctly American culture phenomenon (and I concede that other countries also have their own versions of clusterfubs).  The diminishing quality of the work ethic is another contributing factor as well.  Again, based on my opinion and observations.

You students of American history, and the Civil War, see a pattern of clusterfubs when you read your beloved battle monographs.  Pickett's Charge had to be classified (if they had the word back then), a clusterfub!  The Crater?  Man, there's a MAJOR clusterfub!  Professor Hendershott assigns you the following:  See how many Civil War battles you can list that would fall under the category of a clusterfub!  Test next week!

OK, no test.  BUT, if any of you do know the origin of the word, please let me know.  I'm not going to go blind doing a keyword search and again, there's that 8-year old little girl hovering around my shoulder!  historynut@bright.net is my email address.

To close, let me leave you with a lyric penned by my friend "Farby" off of his tape "Horizontal Refershments" (1993).  It's written to a Civil War era tune, the name of which I don't know.  But I think "Farby" was pretty accurate when he penned these words about the common Civil War soldier caught in the midst of another "clusterfub."

The Foot Soldier's Lament

Seems there's a limit on whatever I want
Whatever I think
Whatever I do
Seems this army don't ever issue
A ration of common sense

This here soldier's been marched to the front
Then ordered to the rear
To sit like a stump
Strategy veers while the General's drunk
And the enemy's pullin' up tents

Our Commander's lookin' so damn well groomed
You'd swear he's preppin' for a future tomb
While my feet scream "Help!" in oversized shoes
The War Department is a bunch of boobs

And the grub, yeah the grub, is the worst dang crud
It moves in the belly and it taste like mud
Chow's a mystery and the cook's on drugs
Supply wagon's run by thugs

Seems a shortage of Federal brains
Federal nerve
Federal gains
Seems like everyone's pickin' on Abe
And nothing's really getting done

Give me a Corps and I'll show my stuff
Sweep the valleys, take the bluffs
Put away the pomp and roll up the cuffs
Pressure 'em till it's won

I'll deem respect when I mount my horse
Turn these boys to a fighting force
Read maps proper and set the right course
Keep old Johnny on the run

Get this massacre over and fast
Maybe go home for peace and laughs
Maybe even get a chance to take a bath
How's that sound to you son?

Seems there's a limit on whatever I want
Whatever I think
Whatever I do
Seems this army don't even issue
A ration of pure good sense

This here private has seen retreat
From West Point boys who fought like (beep)
Men drop dead from Little Bo Peeps
Who kept them in suspense

Well some say a war is a war is a war
You get a little good and a whole lot of poor
This soldier ain't gonna fight no more
If we’re gonna mimic the French

I'm going home to the farm, to the farm
So arrest me then, sound the alarm!
Captain's in the tent starin' at charms
From a local Gypsy wench

Seems there's a limit on whatever I want
Whatever I think
Whatever I do
Seems this army don't even review
The book of common sense

This here soldier's been marched to the front
Then ordered to the rear
To sit like a stump
Strategy veers while the General's drunk
And the enemy's pullin' up tents

Our Commander's lookin' so damn well groomed
You'd swear he's preppin' for a future tomb
While my feet scream "Help!" in oversized shoes
The War Department is a bunch of boobs

And the grub, yea the grub, is the worst dang crud
It moves in the belly and it taste like mud
Chow's a mystery and the cook's on drugs
Supply wagon's run by thugs

I'm headin' home to mama...

Note from Jonah Begone - The Clusterfub was known in antiquity. Here’s a suggestive quote from Petronius, a Roman satirist, in 66 AD: "We train hard...but every time we were beginning to form up into teams, we would be reorganized. I was to learn later in life we would meet any new situation by reorganizing...and a wonderful method it can be for creating the illusion of progress while producing inefficiency and demoralization."

Also, I strongly suggest the reader find a copy of John West Haley’s The Rebel Yell and the Yankee Hurrah. A better identifier of Civil War Clusterfubs never lived.

 

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