The bad words are in my books, too - even in my young adult books because I probably cursed more when I was a teenager than I do now, and while I recognize that not all teens are foul-mouthed little shit-birds, a good number of them are or they’ve at least heard the words used by peers. I use profanity here at this site pretty frequently, and most folks seem happy about that or at least cautiously comfortable. ![]() (I did not respond strongly to Andrew Dice Clay, curiously - I always thought his profanity was in service of being dirty, not in service of being funny or making a point.) (Though people are often surprised I don’t ladle heaping helpings of shit and fuck on every conversation, podcast or interview I have - hey, I do try to maintain a level of politeness, particularly with people who may not be super-comfortable with me spraying that kind of naughty-juice all over them.) I responded strongly to George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Denis Leary. It’s part of my schtick, here, but it’s also part of who I am and how I really talk. That was the day, I think, that I learned to truly love me some profanity. Not exactly a bunker-buster of a bad word, but bad enough for a 12-year-old at that time and I was afraid as soon as the word fell out of my mouth that with such an utterance I would earn his rather significant ire, but the opposite happened: We were standing out there one day for whatever reason or another and I was about 12 at the time and I let slip with a so-called “bad word.” I said this word by way of an accident - not that I let this vulgarity slip out but rather I meant to say one word and I said this word instead. (About ten yards south of the building was a shooting bench and about 200 yards off, a backstop.) ![]() Some engine work and some reloading and gunsmithing. A big building in which you could stack a couple tractors on top of one another. I was standing out back of my father’s - well, I don’t know what the fuck it was, but it was a building of indeterminate function.
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