Expl***ve De**ted!

Well, I had this week’s topic all lined up and ready to go (in my head, at least) and in comes an email from left field that requires immediate attention. It seems that a reader took exception to my use of the “F-bomb” (her term, not mine) in my latest column. The dreaded f-word and its associated nefarious reputation had reared its ugly head yet again. You see, there was much internal debate over the usage of expletives in my book. Granted, there were only a few terms that one might consider offensive, but nevertheless the debate raged. (I won that debate because, after all, the words are mine and I am to be held exclusively accountable for anything with my name upon it.)

The aforementioned expletives have appeared rarely in my columns to date because the topics have been reasonably serious and, as such, I attempted to maintain a serious tone while illuminating the angle as it appeared to me. But last week, in defining “wreckreation”, I used that damned f-word. So let’s spend the rest of today’s time together in exploring style and substance.

Many of us swear while others do not. Some try to limit their cursing with varying degrees of success. Most of us hear words that we may not use in our daily vernacular and find ways of abiding those instances. Literature also provides the opportunity to read words never thought of being uttered, yet we read on. My point is that, while we may try to maintain a level of decorum in our own speaking habits, we seem less averse to hearing or reading the same words.

But don’t try to tell me that there is a living, breathing adult that doesn’t “think” many of these same words when the proverbial shit hits the proverbial fan. (Oh, god: the s-word!) And to prove my point, I will provide five conversations with the expletives suitably deleted:

1. The two hooligans sauntered onto the crosstown bus and slouched into the
   “Seniors Only” seats across from an elderly couple. “Take a look at those old f**ks”, said one to his friend. “They’re older than my grandparents and my grandparents are the oldest f**ks I know!”
2. He sat next to the attractive lady on a park bench. It was his lunch hour (and hers). “You look like you could use a good f**k”, he said. She smiled and replied, “As a matter of fact, a good f**k is exactly what I need right now. Can you help me out?” “As a matter of fact, I can”, he said as he reached into his pants pocket.
3. “Perhaps we could take a stroll outside and you could sit on my d**k. I’ve been told             it’s the longest d**k in the neighborhood.” “Oooh”, she purred. “Nothing beats a nice,    long d**k.”
4. “Let’s cut to the chase”, she said. “Word is that you’ve got the biggest d**k anyone has ever seen. True?” “Well, yes it is”, he replied, “but we’ll have to go outside for you to see it.” “My god! That is the biggest d**k I’ve ever seen! How in the hell did you end up with a d**k that big?”
5. “You are such a s**t!”, she cried as her brother pushed her into the mud. “I’ve never seen such a pile of s**t in my entire life and pray that you will eat s**t for the rest of your days!”

So, dear reader, are you properly aghast at such language in a supposedly intellectual discussion? I know, it is shocking that I could conjure up such filth. Bear with me one more moment, though, and allow me to add one more sentence to each of the above passages: 

1. “Yeah, but one day we’ll be old folks, too.”
2. “You would think that the deli would have provided you a fork when you bought your salad.”
3. “Yes, a long dock takes you farther out into the bay and provides a much better view.”
4. “Well, he flew into my yard one day and I’ve been feeding him ever since. He is one, big, happy duck.”
5. “Fine with me, sis; I love snot!”

Confused? “Folks”, “fork”, “dock”, “duck”, and “snot” are not expletives, are they? No, but I’d bet a dime to a doughnut that you read other words into those asterisked blanks regardless of whether such words ever escaped your lips. So, should I substitute asterisks for letters, my meaning may be widely misconstrued. The same applies to “friggin”, “freakin”, “screwin”, or “fookin”. Regardless of what I write, the reader generally sees the word I’m dancing around.

The words I write represent my best attempt at what might be called an artistic endeavor. As such, my mind directs my fingertips and the few expletives that appear on the page are not “added” for effect. They are there to complete the point I am trying to make and, much like spices in a recipe, combine in an attempt to render an end product both pleasing and thought-provoking. An expletive may cause a bump in your literary highway, but perhaps I am seeking such a bump to cause you to react and reflect on a specific passage. It is time to rate substance over style and take the time to delve into the message with less regard for the wrapping. While I attempt to avoid bombarding your senses with gratuitous profanity, I ask for your indulgence in hearing me out before discarding my thoughts out of hand.

My emailing reader also suggested that the use of such words separates me from more established, mainstream columnists and, should I wish to be included in such company, I should refrain from such verbiage. Well, I only know one established, mainstream columnist who told me that, if it were not for his editor and the Victorian mentality of newspaper vocabularies, an occasional expletive would, indeed, be found in his pieces. So, with a nod to Norman Mailer, gimme a friggin’ break!