If we weren't meant to cuss and cuss out loud,
why were we gifted with some of the best cuss words on Earth?
So expressive, so imaginative especially in the way they can be used together.
A linguistic, even poetic, near Tourret's tirade can be a thing of beauty in the proper circles.
It may as well take on literary or at least legendary status.
That sort of eloquence will not be soon forgotten.
You may win the Nobel Peace Prize, but folks will remember that day you cussed like a Pirate.
I pinched my finger on a rusty bolt yesterday -
You know... Shock, torn skin, blood, pain...
In a millisecond, I wanted to scream the loudest, crudest, foulest curse words ever uttered through a human mouth. The bile of verbiage boiled up from deep within...
SON-OF-A-...
Then, the editor-social filter walked in and shut down the production.
Damn.
He deftly replace teh script with the Yosemite Sam version...
Dang.
Brac-a-frackin', stak-a-fraca, bac-sac-fackin' stana-frana-back-fa-flarfa-farca-fraca...
But ooohhh would the alternate have felt better.
The kind of cussin' that makes mothers scowl at you while they cover little children's ears.
The kind of cussin' that makes dogs take note and back away from you.
the kind of cussin' that makes law enforcement officers check their side arm and the charge on their tazers.
The kind of cussin' better unleashed on the open plain.
The kind of cussin' that makes horses bray - like when they called Frau Bloo-ker in Young Frankenstein.
The kind of cussin' that makes coyotes howl.
A George Carlin - Rest In Peace, you genius -string of expletives.
The kind of cussin' YOU wouldn't kiss your mother afterward.
The kind of cussin' that shakes your faith so deeply that you make a visit to the church for confession.
The kind of cussin' that makes you believe in demonic possession. Yours.
The kind ofcussin' that would make even you believe you are irredeemably damned for.
The kind of cussin' that is followed by night visits from your guardian Angel who asks you, "Y'aight?"
The kind of cussin' that will make you believe you need to go on an epic pilgrimage to remedy.
I just hit my pinched finger on the corner of a table in a crowded cafe on the 1700 block of Capital Avenue in this Golden State, Capital City of Sacra-fracken-mento. And, as tears and flashing spots of color filled my eyes, the bile began boiling again.
I thought of Yosemite...
I'm feeling the need for wide open plains and colorful metaphors...
why were we gifted with some of the best cuss words on Earth?
So expressive, so imaginative especially in the way they can be used together.
A linguistic, even poetic, near Tourret's tirade can be a thing of beauty in the proper circles.
It may as well take on literary or at least legendary status.
That sort of eloquence will not be soon forgotten.
You may win the Nobel Peace Prize, but folks will remember that day you cussed like a Pirate.
I pinched my finger on a rusty bolt yesterday -
You know... Shock, torn skin, blood, pain...
In a millisecond, I wanted to scream the loudest, crudest, foulest curse words ever uttered through a human mouth. The bile of verbiage boiled up from deep within...
SON-OF-A-...
Then, the editor-social filter walked in and shut down the production.
Damn.
He deftly replace teh script with the Yosemite Sam version...
Dang.
Brac-a-frackin', stak-a-fraca, bac-sac-fackin' stana-frana-back-fa-flarfa-farca-fraca...
But ooohhh would the alternate have felt better.
The kind of cussin' that makes mothers scowl at you while they cover little children's ears.
The kind of cussin' that makes dogs take note and back away from you.
the kind of cussin' that makes law enforcement officers check their side arm and the charge on their tazers.
The kind of cussin' better unleashed on the open plain.
The kind of cussin' that makes horses bray - like when they called Frau Bloo-ker in Young Frankenstein.
The kind of cussin' that makes coyotes howl.
A George Carlin - Rest In Peace, you genius -string of expletives.
The kind of cussin' YOU wouldn't kiss your mother afterward.
The kind of cussin' that shakes your faith so deeply that you make a visit to the church for confession.
The kind of cussin' that makes you believe in demonic possession. Yours.
The kind ofcussin' that would make even you believe you are irredeemably damned for.
The kind of cussin' that is followed by night visits from your guardian Angel who asks you, "Y'aight?"
The kind of cussin' that will make you believe you need to go on an epic pilgrimage to remedy.
I just hit my pinched finger on the corner of a table in a crowded cafe on the 1700 block of Capital Avenue in this Golden State, Capital City of Sacra-fracken-mento. And, as tears and flashing spots of color filled my eyes, the bile began boiling again.
I thought of Yosemite...
3 comments:
You know what an Oh Shee is, right?
It's what you call that measurement of time between when you stub your toe, and when you feel it.
No, Wanderer, you got it wrong.
LET THAT %^%&#@### fly to the winds!
hitting your thumb with a hammer, ripping a piece of skin on a nail, dropping a frozen roast on your bare foot (i did that once, and you wanna talk pain?)...these are all what true creative word combo cussin' is for....
you DO feel much better afterwards.
In no way will "dang" ever come close...
No, Wanderer, you got it wrong.
LET THAT %^%&#@### fly to the winds!
hitting your thumb with a hammer, ripping a piece of skin on a nail, dropping a frozen roast on your bare foot (i did that once, and you wanna talk pain?)...these are all what true creative word combo cussin' is for....
you DO feel much better afterwards.
In no way will "dang" ever come close...
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