Friday, October 30, 2009

The Gift of Swearing

"You're a monkey fuck," I casually retorted to friend (I'll call her Happier)recently. I had a big smile on my face when I said it, and my tone contained no rancor, bile, meanness, or spite. And obviously, it isn't true. Or I'm fairly certain of that, but I can't be totally sure. Happier is very nice and has an unassuming demeanor, so I can rule out with reasonable confidence that I wasn't stating a fact when I called her a "monkey fucker". Happier was around when I threw out another favorite of mine; fuck-stick. Happier even said she wanted to work that into her own lexicon. I took that as the highest of praise. Happier thinks a I swear good. Or well, for you grammar ass-lickers out there.

Perhaps my gift for artful language construction is a product of a strict upbringing. When I was a kid growing up in the 70's, I would get grounded for saying "suck", even if I was helping my Mom vacuum. So "suck nut" just feels liberating to me now. I was a generally nice and happy kid, so it wasn't like I had a lot to swear about, but if I said "shit", I just started running for my life. We were so square (quadrangle?), that I remember the first time my Dad said "shit" in my presence. Dallas Cowboys on t.v., in the basement, Dad sitting in a highback lounge chair. It was maroon. Not my Dad, the chair, you fuck-stick.

One great irony was I ran around, as a kid, yelling with glee that my bike was the "balls!", and my new dog was the "balls!", and Mr. B. my English teacher was the "balls!" That is, until a kid who grew up in Manhattan embarrassingly asked me if I knew that "balls" was a synonym for testicles. My parents loved that things were the "balls!" but if I uttered "crap" I was grounded for two weeks before I could say "Sorry, sorry!"

It was the 70's, so it was fine to call my brother a "retard", but if I called him "stupid" I got ... well, grounded, of course. My sister, who was a bitch -- and can still channel her inner-bitch like a pro -- could not be called a "bitch." Jerk was fine. Bitch, grounded. Terd, dung, scat, poop, "B.M." (short for bowel movement I learned years later) all on the approved list. But "shit" was verboten. Go figure.

So here's my tip for swearing like a mad sailor. Take any general-use curse word (fuck, shit, ass, dick, etc.) and add it to a totally benign term. For example, "fuck" plus "wad" makes "fuckwad." Dick plus the verb dangle plus -er becomes "dick dangler." I don't know what it means, but it sounds good. "Ass" plus "rope" plus -ing? "What, are you ass-roping?" Again, I don't know what it means, but it sounds better than plain "You ass." Go practice with a loved-one and let me know how it works out, would you?

When you are ready for the next level, add two nice words to make a new swear that makes people go, "Ewwww!" The advantages here are many-fold, not least of which is you gain plausible deniability for later, especially if you rip one at work or when fighting with your spouse. Or if the kids hear it, heaven forbid. An example would be mixing "pillow" with "pounder" for the very gross "pillow pounder." (Not mine originally) Hair and glue? "She's got hairglue!" It implies bad things, so don't use it if you don't want the responsibility. These aren't safe for rookies, so don't blame me if you get dumped, punched, slapped or sued, you fucktard.

Actually, the best use of forbidden words / inappropriate phrasing I've ever heard came from my wife's grandmother, of all people. I'd like to think she knew what she was doing, but I'll never be sure, as she passed away a few years back. At ninety-four, she had been picked up from her retirement community for a visit with the kids, grand kids, great-grand kids, and our very large, friendly dog. As our house-cow nuzzled her and laid his monster-sized head in her lap, she gently petted his head and scratched his ears. The room grew quiet as she travelled back in time to her youth. She spoke lovingly of her time on the family farm, and how she used to drive a horse and buggy. But her favorite pet was her cat. Oh, how she loved her cat. She came back to present and looked lovingly at her many family members gathered around, and said, "Oh, how I used to love rubbing my pussy."

Boy, did she HAVE the gift.

1 comment:

  1. That last bit is so bad, but I am totally laughing anyway.

    Fucktard is one I've been throwing around a lot lately. I like monkey fuck, too though. I'll have to work that one in.


Please don't take me too seriously.