Monday, May 03, 2010

Trailer-trash Shakespeare dude

A few of my gentle readers don't like it so much when I go on one of my f-word tangents (that would be "fuck," not "faith") or when I say "shit" or "cunt" or whatever the fuck else I like to say occasionally. But, by damn, it's just got to be said that way sometimes. Certain low people, certain low things, certain low occasions demand it!

Besides, I was born a poor black child. Oh ... no, that was Steve Martin. I was born a poor bloody white child. I was born in a trailer. Well, not exactly IN a trailer. My family lived in a tiny trailer in San Diego until I was 4, but I was born at a hospital -- a 10-pound baby in a roomful of tiny girl babies. Maybe that's why I like women so much!

My parents and half my relatives were pretty much trailer trash without a high-school education (a good thing) and pretty damned independent and salty. My dad was a Marine when I was born and we lived near the military base in 29 Palms. He was only in the service for 4 years but didn't stop being a Marine-dad to my brother, Mike, and I until we grew lots of muscles and could kick his ass, around the age of 18. Then he got nice -- as nice as a Marine ever gets.

The f-word for dad was a language staple. He used it as an adjective ("fucking Cowboys!) or a noun ("that Nixon's a slimy fuck") or a verb ("fuck you, you son-of-a-bitch"). I emulated little of what my dad was (except for his fierce independence and honesty), but his colorful language stuck, which makes for sometimes odd bed partners with my, well, learning. I was the odd kid in the family who was into books and ideas and thinking and contemplating and graduating and asking "why" a billion times and shit like that.

None of my "intellectual" friends cussed like a pirate, and when they tried, it just sound silly. ("I think we fucking need the fucking quadratic equation to fucking figure out the fucking slope shit, you know?") In fact, I also hung around with the pot-smokers occasionally in high school and I was pretty damn good at sports, too, so the jocks and the cheerleaders knew me pretty well (though I couldn't give a shit about them, except for Jamie Williams, who was HOT AS HELL and very very nice and sweet -- and, oh yes, she had big boobs that made any conversation with her lovely face virtually impossible).

Some of my gentle readers think I lose readers or compromise my gravitas when I "go trailer." Well, yep to the former but nope to the latter. A good argument is a good argument, and sometimes one simply can't replace a well-placed expletive. You can't do it all the time, but when it comes time to call the Pope a shit-head pedophile-loving fuck, well, you just gotta call him a shit-head pedophile-loving fuck. He is base, so base language is fucking necessary. (Oops, maybe that last expletive was a bit much. Oh well, what the fuck.)

Anyway, I love Shakespeare and can quote the sublime dude endlessly, so I can cuss whenever I like, right?

Fuckin'-A right! (I love to answer my own questions)

Hey nonny nonny!

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