I heart cursing

I love to curse.

Most people associate cursing with being angry. While I can certainly let the four letter words fly in the car with the best of them, most of the time when I swear, I feel little joy bubbles bouncing around in my chest. 

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. See right there? Imagine Maria with her arms stretched wide, singing about the sound of music. Happy. I have to remind myself when I'm out in public that some people are offended by cursing. That parents don't like their children to hear it.

If I had a kid his nursery would be painted with "Nantucket" limericks. Which is probably why I don't have a kid.

I know this glee stems from the fact that at the POS church, cursing was strictly forbidden. Unwholesome talk. You could talk about hell, but you could never SAY "oh hell". The "curse" words of choice were "stinkin'", "cotton pickin'" and maybe if you were really on the edge "freaking", although that would probably get you in trouble.

So when I say real 100% full octane curse words now, some little voice in the back of my head pipes up "Free at last! Free at last! Motherfucking free at last!" (quote may have been changed slightly from the original).

I've also had some realizations about "unwholesome talk". You don't need curse words to terrorize someone, to show up in their nightmares for years. To leave scars on their soul, to destroy their concept of God.

I think about some of these preachers out there. I'd much rather hear salty language than words that give parents the license to beat their children to death, words that send gay kids to commit suicide, words that make women feel inferior in the sight of God.

Isn't THAT unwholesome talk?