Search This Blog

Monday, March 19, 2012

Nothing Lovelier Than Words

Watch this guy scream at his cat.  It's kind of cute ... and really crazy.

 Ma'am, come through the metal detector, please.  And then bend over in your wheelchair and spread your ass for the Transportation Security Administration.  It's for your safety.

Some people never curse.  They hate profanity, and they wouldn't even say "damn" if someone dropped a brick on the little piggies in their open-toed hippie Jesus-freak sandals.  Other people don't curse because they think it makes them look less intelligent (and believe me, if you think intelligence is a "look," then you couldn't possibly be less intelligent than you are:  you're at rock-fuckin'-bottom, baby, because Albert Einstein rarely -- indeed, if ever-- looked intelligent).

But I enjoy profanity, vulgarity, obscenity, coarse language -- whatever you judgmental motherfuckers want to call it.  Profanity and vulgar slang have a long and distinguished history, since the earliest forms of writing were developed.  Cavemen hadn't invented the word fuck, so they painted a bull bison fucking a cow bison on the side of their cave and they laughed uncontrollably for several minutes before one of them had a heart attack ... and the mood got suddenly frigid.  "Maybe we shouldn't curse," one caveman said over the corpse.  "Glepgla laughed so hard from the bison-fucking picture that he bought the farm."  Thus was formed the almost pre-natal version of the War on Words.  I made this bullshit caveman story up to illustrate how ridiculous is our conception of what words are acceptable.  I've probably totally fucked up my point, but I've always thought the idea of cavemen painting porno scenes on the walls of their caves in France is too hysterical to pass up using it as an awkward illustration of the ridiculousness of our fears about writing or speaking in coarse, vulgar, common, indecent or profane language.

I'm sure most will disagree with me on this.  You'll think I have Tourette's or some other psychological disorder.  Probably I do.  But let's face it, you sanctimonious pricks, you're all just not cursing when you're in front of your mothers or your preachers.  When you're bungholing your neighborhood prostitute or letting her suck your pud for twenty bucks, you're not quoting her love sonnets.  You're telling her, "Back that big ass up, bitch," or "Madam, you are a totally exquisite fuck!"  Depending on your cultural proclivities.

I say, embrace your obscenity.  They're just words.

God bless.

No comments:

Post a Comment