A truth for a blackmail

trigger warning: wicked, vile, mean-spirited characters. Thank God they are incompetent.

In the English tradition, a favor is something "attractive, beautiful, and charming." The English word originated from Old French favor "a favor; approval, praise; applause; partiality." Modern French took on a different spelling, faveur. ˆBoth derived from Latin favorem (nominative favor) "good will, inclination, partiality, support."

Cicero, the ancient Roman orator, coined favere (a verb-form of favorem), meaning "to show kindness to." Cicero's meaning stuck throughout the Middle Ages and into the Modern sense of the word. Meaning "good will, kind regard" is from mid-14c. in English; sense of "act of kindness, a kindness done" is from late 14c. Meaning "bias, partiality" is from late 14c. Meaning "thing given as a mark of favor" is from late 15c. Phrase in favor of recorded from 1560s.

Favor has its roots in the good. It was once attractive and beautiful and charming.

Now, it is unfair and iniquitous; favoritism, that is. Favor is a word with a mostly positive connotation. We know that a bad act can be made with good intent. We also know that a good act does not always give rise to positive consequence. An act of kindness can happen at the wrong time in the wrong place to the wrong person. An act of kindness can be futile and unpragmatic. An act of kindness can be made by a wicked person. Are you like the 14th century? Do you consider a favor an act of kindness? Not all favors turn out to be attractive or beautiful or charming. Japan agrees. The Japanese language has a word that adds shadow to the concept of favor. Rigatameiwaku means a favor, made in good faith, that turns out to be a nuisance for its recipient.

My question, what is a favor made in bad faith, a favor that is supposed to become a nuisance for its recipient? Is it something other than favor?

“Want another beer?” A seedy little fellow named Jason had spent most of two weeks scheming up a proper moment to ask that seemly little question. “If I just prod him the right way, he will react exactly how I want him to,” he thought. 

“Eh, why not,” Gerard, a mostly blunt fool and coworker to Jason, loved beer. Most of all, he loved easy pleasure. Least of all, he loved making decisions. 

Jason left his couch and walked toward his refrigerator. He had invited Gerard over for a fraternal sharing of the twenty-four case, his treat. What appeared like a warm gesture had really trudged its way out of a darkly cavern, favorite occult haven for goons and fiends and demons. “Got five to go, you just let me know when you want another.”

“Aye aye captain.” Gerard flicked the can open. A burst of compressed air exited with flair, sizzle and pop, “Hey thanks again for the beers. I owe ya a real thick case of…” There was a pause that lasted one second too long than Jason would have preferred. “A case of elephant jizz,” he interjected. So long as Jason could be funny, he could kill any awkward silence. So long as he was the funniest in the room, he could rule over the room. Charm. Cunning debonair. Humor was Jason's best weapon, though most of the time it was outdated as a musket. 

Gerard laughed and took three big gulps that emptied the can, “a case of that” and the slurring of words began as suddenly as a traffic jam, “a caaase of thwat real fine shiot, you know?” He belched as loud as an elephant trumpet. 

“Not a problem man. I won’t hold you to it, but I definitely wouldn’t mind another case another night, after work.” Jason spoke with utmost politeness. The first part of his plan was complete. 

“Weee never really talk muych outside work.” 

“I know, but we have been talking about grabbing a beer or two for a month or two.” 

“Trueeeee shiiiit. And here we are. Here we we we are. Drinking like a couple of...”   

“Monkeys in a tree.”

“Yessireyyy.” 

“Say, how long have we been working together?” 

“How lowngyou bewn ath Cyclone Mechanics again?”

“As long as you.” 

“Hpow long I bewn there?”

“Since the beginning…” Jason smirked.

“Dnag right, thasjusthowit hass been.”

“In the beginning, God made machine and then mechanic…” 

“You knowit you know it you knowit.” Gerard said in a frenzy of excitement. 

“And then he made woman…”

“and den manachanic killed himself.” They both laughed. And so, the seed had been planted. 

“Speaking of. I’m trying to get with this girl, but she has been sending me mixed signals. I need a better way. You have any tips?” 

“Youu know just bee as honest as youuuu can.” Not the answer Jason was looking for. Not to worry.

“Yea I don’t want to embarrass myself though. I need something more effective, more forceful. A way to pacify that fear of hers that is holding her back from my bed. A sure-fire way, you know what I mean. How can I get her? I’m not saying coercion or manipulation of course, I just mean...” He had rehearsed this hook: a sordid though crafty prompt; a leading provocative question; an unfinished sentence to guarantee...

“Wha isss smore forceful than the truth?” Again, not Jason's desired outcome. He wanted vile advice, ill, entrapping words that could be smeared verbatim across Gerard's face. “That’s about theee best Ican give.” 

“How about another beer," he asked with slight unease, fearing that another beer might turn Gerard into a pile of vomit.

“Yeaa maan oneamore.” 

“Okay I have to grab my phone charger from my room first. Then beer” He grinned and gave two thumbs up, walked to his room, opened the door and closed it. Jeremy, another seedy little fellow, was sitting in his room in an office chair.  

“You listening?” Jason whispered. 

“You promised hard evidence. You promised poison. This is not enough. We can't threaten with this.” Jeremy removed a pair of headphones.

“I’ll get it out of him. Just keep monitoring the mic.” 

“I wasted my own time installing my own gear in your cheap walls. ”

“You scratched my back. I will scratch..." Jason glared at him. "This is a sustainable business model, you know it. I’ll get us results. You'll get your return. Patience. Believe.” 

“It’s a scheme.” 

“All business is scheme. You want legitimacy? We have a brand, blackmailbeer. We have a tagline, the walls have ears. We have a huge market. I know people who want in. We can patent our method, we just need a good lawyer. Private investigation, that's out trade and it requires technical skill, interrogative skill, business planning, research, and a touch of genius."

"A touch of criminal guile. You sold me on something else."

“I sold you on what I am doing right now. It’s a simple business process. Find the right person, befriend them, gain their trust, invite them over, promise beer. Press record. Let the alcohol push them into our trap. Then some editing magic. Make the audio contextless. Cut it. Chop it up. And for the money-maker," Jason raised his arms "...extortion. Threaten to use their own words to cancel them, unless they pay up. The environment is poised for this. The technology is here. The people want retribution as much as they fear it. So, we exploit their fear to give them what they want. Then, we get out of dodge, or more properly put, we move on to a new segment in our market."

Jason walked out of the room without his phone charger and went to the fridge.

A favor is a snare and the word is a liar, whose word?

Be wary of favor handed out like gift

lest it bound your ankles and your wrists

in a thick silver-wound rubberized cord.