Author Topic: earquake


« on: June 20, 2008 »
My wife knows how to swear. Which is to say, she only does it in extremis, and it always gets my attention. I don't need to wait for special occasions. I slid into the gutter long before The Sopranos, where Tony's mother was more worried about "that kind of language" than she was about people getting whacked. (My experience with the refuse business is limited to stomping it down to make it fit in the bin.)

There wasn't much swearing in my house growing up. Certainly no Fwords. 'Goddamnit' was almost unthinkable, and even 'Damn' meant the earth was quaking. Needless to say it was a Kodak moment when the first Fcuk escaped my lips in my post-watershed years while chauffeuring my parents through NYC traffic. I still remember that stunned look on their faces in the rearview mirror almost a quarter century later. How nice it is to be able to write in a way which makes me feel old.

Recently down in a Hastings park I saw a kid fall off his bike in front of his mother and hit the ground with expletive intact. Naturally she was more worried about his knee than she was his mouth, but it still reminded me of how far we've come.

Now where did I put my fucking keys.