It's not something I'm especially proud of, but I am who I am and I make no apologies for it. I grew up on military bases in Europe during the Cold War, and then for college I attended an engineering school. I have, for all intents and purposes, been around Men Who Curse pretty much all of my life, and as a result I have become quite proficient in salting my own vocabulary with profanity. In many ways this is kind of a survival skill, because in those environments I found I was not taken seriously -- or worse, was ignored -- if I didn't curse. Other cases were almost textbook examples of verbal abuse, and the only way I could defend myself was for me to engage in linguistic assault of my own.
But the other day I discovered I had created a new curse word, and it worried me. Have I turned my language skills to the dark side? Am I descending the slippery slope of obscenity in the wake of Lenny Bruce and Andrew "Dice" Clay? Will I one day end up in the fetal position, slowly rocking myself, as streams of filth disgorge themselves from my mouth like a highly literate Linda Blair?
Maybe I'll just go on to write for HBO.
The freshly-minted curse word, for those who are dying to know, is "Fuckity."
- "Sweet fuckity, this dog is heavy."
- "Fuckity Ann and Andy, it's hot out here."