Speaking of Dirty Words...

I’ve been told that I need to clean up my language. There aren’t many four letter words that I won’t use. I don’t know where I learned it, actually. It just happened. I think my affinity for cussing goes way back to my 7^th grade year. What better way to start two years of Confirmation preparation than to swear like a sailor while smacking gum and sneaking a can of Near Beer in a brown paper bag for lunch? It was all very bad girl behavior, or at least as close to bad-ass as I could manage and get away with. Before I knew what had come over me, the F-bombs were dropping all over that Catholic elementary school, along with a slew of other pre-teen obscenities and slang. It just came naturally to me, like breathing, and I never looked back. I should be ashamed of what so many others consider taboo, but I’m not. 

It must have been a subtle evolution, my fondness for swearing, because I know I didn’t wake up one morning planning to ditch my Legion of Mary Rosary beads and the Memorare for salty language more fitting an Irish corner boy. And they certainly weren’t on my Spelling or Vocabulary lists, although I’m sure I’d be the last girl standing in a filthy language Spelling Bee. My parents didn’t swear, at least not in English. They may have sworn in Gaelic, but never with the frequency that I do. Our television viewing was monitored and limited to very benign and dull shows: Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom, The Lawrence Welk Show, re-runs of Gilligan’s Island and The Brady Bunch. I never heard Greg Brady talk about his A$$#@!% teachers at Westdale High School. The very proper Mr. Welk never introduced that cute little singing quartet as The Lennon B#!^%@&$.  I, on the other hand, would have no problem saying either thing.

My father used to complain that my occasional slip up in his presence was evidence that: 

1) He was wasting money on a fine Catholic education, and

2) My vocabulary was inadequate and I was lacking for better, more refined language.

I could not argue the education part of his lecture, but he was most certainly wrong about the vocabulary. I have an excellent and exhaustive English vocabulary. But I also happen to have the gift of being fluent in Filth, and like many bi-and tri-lingual people, I get confused at times. The technical term is code-switching and it’s often unavoidable. Even Pope John Paul II did it, although he often seasoned his Italian with his native Polish, which is quite different than my native English interspersed with Filth. My point (or some would say my rather weak argument) though, is that if it’s good enough for a Pope, well then sorry, Daddy, it’s good enough for me. He has since adopted a new approach: he laughs along with me, ignores it, or does a tsk-tsk and ‘no more, please.’ At least there are no more lectures.

Now, I know plenty of other people who feign shock and displeasure when I describe a bouquet of flowers as ‘f@#$%^&* beautiful,’ or if they hear me tell another driver to get off the ‘mother-f@#$%^& road.’ Listen to her, they whisper to each other…such language…how inappropriate…I would never say that word… Well, to that I say Bullshit. There’s no need for prudish drama. We all have our improprieties. Mine just happen to be in linguistic form, and like it or not, it’s who I am. Could I tone it down? I probably could…but why?

They are words, for the love of God, and just as your polyester pants or hair dye shouldn’t define you, my choice of adjectives and nouns shouldn’t define me. A certain amount of cheeky language is simply delicious to me and can perfectly replace more acceptable words. My mother often called me impudent, but more than once I caught her looking the other direction with a smirk on her face. She understood that sometimes genteel language just doesn’t cut it; it’s vague and when uttered by the likes of me, sounds unnatural. And sorry, I don’t do fake.

I don’t often use euphemisms, and for much the same reason: why use flowery language to try to hide the fact that I already thought the unthinkable?  I know that I am often verbalizing what so many are already thinking but are too ‘refined’ (afraid) to say out loud. Just call a spade a spade and be done with it. Stifle the gasp and pick your jaw up off the floor. It’s not so bad. And as far as I’m concerned, thinking bad thoughts is the same as saying them. 

My friend Kathy who died a couple of years ago would say things like ‘oh, fiddlesticks,’ ‘sugar’ and ‘gosh darn.’ I used to beg and plead with that woman to cuss. She’d make a mistake on paperwork and say, “Oh, shhhh-ugar” and for a split second, with that first shhhh-sound, I thought she had finally given in and learned my Filth language. I heard her swear once, when a mutual friend was fired from her position under questionable circumstances, and she uttered that the person responsible was ‘a piece of s@#%.’ I think Kathy was the only person I have ever known who didn’t have to pause to substitute the dirty little word in her head with a sweeter version, and I think it was a huge effort for her to say the word s@#%.

Many people like to claim that they don’t use vulgar language because it’s not in the Bible. It may surprise you to know that the King James Version of the Bible has a passage in Isaiah (and now I really sound contrived as I quote the Bible)-- Isaiah 36:12 to be exact--and in case you’d like to see for yourself. It includes the word piss. As in I am pissed off, or he needs to take a piss. Who knew? And don’t act offended: I already told you, it’s in the Bible. (The New KJV has substituted the euphemism ‘waste’: to me that’s just plain chickens@#%.)  More Bible evidence to support my filthy cause? During his Sermon on the Mount, Jesus made reference to the word Raca, which was a not so flattering term. He warned that using the word would make one answerable to courts. But the use of the seemingly innocuous word, fool? Use that word and prepare to answer to God. Jesus was one smart guy. Call me a bitch and I won’t flinch; call me a fool or lazy and we’ll have a serious chat.

Of course, I am very well aware that there are times when vulgar language is not appropriate. My limited list includes 1) Church and, 2) Childbirth. Yes, that’s my entire list. I don’t swear in church and I didn’t swear when having three children. Without any painkillers, I might add. My short list is not an indication that I think it’s fine to cuss every minute of the day, but I admit that I rarely hold back. I do try to limit the GD type of phrases, because those are a little too crass for even me. But to say son-of-a-bitch or WTF? They’re only words after all. Besides, I have to do it now. Rumor has it that Filth isn't spoken in Heaven.