Asshole of the Year

There are stories that arrive like weather.
You do not summon them.
They roll in, unexpected, a little wild, and then linger in the room long after the laughter fades.

This is one of those stories.

It begins with talent and timing.
With music crossing borders.
With language doing that slippery, beautiful thing it does when it forgets to carry a small mark over a single letter.

Terry once told it this way, and it has become one of those stories you carry with you, like a smooth stone in your pocket.

Most of you already know, and the rest have probably guessed, so this will not come as any surprise…

Of all the awards and accolades I was lucky enough to achieve, my most cherished is this: yes, I won the ‘ASSHOLE OF THE YEAR’ award.

Let me explain…

I wrote a song that won a Billboard award. A group in Mexico decided to record it. They used my music tracks but removed the English vocals and overdubbed them in Spanish. I was surprised to see my name on the actual cover of the CD. It was supposed to say, ‘Featuring Terry Scott’s “Song of the Year.”’

Apparently, the word “year” in Spanish is “año,” with a little tilde (~) over the letter “n.” “Ano” without the tilde is “anus,” or, more funny, “asshole.” So, as you can see, they left the tilde off of “año”. A typo that has haunted me for years.

Now, instead of ‘Featuring Terry Scott’s Song of the Year,’ it says… ‘Featuring Terry Scott, “Asshole of the Year.”’ Well, it technically translates more to “Song of the Asshole,” but “Asshole of the Year” gives me a little more edge.
Sorry for the long story and the bad words. But now you know, and it’s official.

There is something quietly generous about a person who can carry a story like this with humor.
To let a mistake become a small piece of joy instead of a bruise.
To laugh at the strange ways language slips on its own shoelaces.

We spend so much of our lives trying to be precise.
Trying to land on the right word.
Trying not to miss the tiny marks that change meaning entirely.

And still, sometimes the tilde falls away.

Maybe that is the point.
Maybe the universe leaves room for laughter on purpose.
A soft reminder not to hold our titles too tightly, or our reputations too close to the chest.

Some stories are not meant to polish our image.
They are meant to warm the room.