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| Gorgeous George |
D#@*!
M#@#$% F#$$%!
I've got a problem with you.
You just read that blog title and then four words...umm scratch that...you just read a blog title and four jumbled-up, character-filled pieces of nothing. $h*# is not a word.
But what word did you say in your head when you read it? Did you say "bleep"? Did you say "shoot"? Did you say "S-word"?
I've got news for you, folks. You either said "shit" or you're full of it. You, dear reader, are a vulgarian.
But I either type the word or I censor myself with $$ symbols and you infer the word, right? Who the h#!! are we kidding?
Here's my problem:
By the time you're 13, you've heard pretty much every vulgarity in the book. We cross our fingers as your parents that you haven't used them in practical speech. But that's what they are...vulgarities, pure and simple. Vulgar being defined as distasteful. Distasteful being defined by the mores and standards of society at any given time. Remember that for the first twenty years of primetime television, married couples slept in separate beds. Have you ever watched Desperate Housewives? Golly, even the title of the show is vulgar compared to Ward and June hopping into detached bunk beds.
So we create words to describe things. We add words to the dictionary every year to keep up with the evolution of the English language. We label them. Some words are harmonious and peaceful. Some words are technical and necessary. We have verbs and abverbs, pronouns and participles. In the end, they're just letters strung together and pronounced in such a fashion as to evoke an understanding of the meaning from the speaker or reader. A meaning. That's really the issue, isn't it?
Walk up to your dog and get in her ear. In the meanest, most thunderous voice you can muster I want you to scream, "I love the daylights out of you, you beautiful wonderful dog! Can I please take you to the park later and buy you an expensive bone?!" I want you to channel the voice you used the day your dog ate your favorite pair of shoes. You should almost be throwing up.
Lassie should cower, tuck and run. If not, get her hearing and eyesight checked.
Conversely, compose yourself and turn on "sweetie" voice. Get all cuddled up with her and whisper, "I'm going to hack your f#*%* nose off with a rusty tin can, pretty girl!"
~As a side note, I'm reasonably sure that if we all sweet-talked our dogs at the same time and could somehow harness the energy in their tails, we'd never have to worry about Chilean miners hunting the world's necessary resources. (next blog idea...Dog tail wind energy saves trapped miners. Gold.)~
Back to Lassie...she doesn't speak English. She speaks inflection and body language. So do babies, interestingly. If you conduct the same experiment on your neighbor's five month old son, it will go pretty close to the same way. There are a few differences. For starters, you can count on a little jail time and some counseling, but not until you have your jaw re-attached.
So lets take the inflection and body language out of things for a minute and discuss something. As adults, we can agree that saying the word "shit" in the title of a television show would be classified as "vulgar" by the FCC, pretty much every parenting coalition in the world, religious and political leaders and anybody with a 20th century background in right and wrong. But...
CBS Executive #1: "We need this show. It's an Internet sensation. Shatner signed on. It's funny as heck."
Executive #2: "He's right. But we need to change the title. You can't call something 'Shit My Dad Says' on network television. HBO doesn't even swear in the title of their shows. Although Zach Galifinakis is pitching a show where he takes a crap every week and talks to a live audience during. There's gotta be a vulgarity in that title."
#1: "Let's call it "Stuff my Dad says"?
#2: "Meh, it doesn't have the punch. It sounds like your following your Dad with a tape recorder while he attempts to convince you he was in the Sharks or the Jets."
#1: "I got it!! We can call it '$h*# My Dad Says' in writing, and have the announcers call it "Bleep My Dad Says!!!"
#2: "Brilliant! Anyone with an IQ above the temperature in Arctic Circle will understand that $h*# means SHIT and we won't offend a soul because we haven't used a societally-named vulgarity in writing or in speech! It's code! And we've got the Right covered by casting Shatner, so even Christine O'Donnell will endorse the show."
#1: "Not so quick. Don't forget the Arctic Circle caveat."
#2: "Ah, shit. Good point. Palin, maybe?"
If 13 is the magic age we've all heard the vulgarities, then when is the age we've used them out loud? I remember swearing around my friends with some regularity in high school. It comes slowly, you learn to filter. You learn what sounds cool one day sounds silly and desperate the next. You learn not to swear in front of Granny and Pastor Bill. You get a filter. But you don't forget them, and if you are intending to be vulgar to be funny, you take the chance you'll offend someone.
My point? Intent is everything. Tell a homeless guy bumming a quarter off you that he's a worthless pile of $h*# with venom in your voice and you're gonna sound vulgar. Inform your neighbor that his dog just took a shit in your yard, and would he mind coming to clean it up...well you're being neighborly.
Name a television show "Bleep My Dad Says" and even Lassie is gonna be insulted.
