Vulgarity

Que putas estas haciendo? Estoy tratando dormir. "Hey, what the fuck are you doing? I'm sleeping here."
Baby Dago only knew Spanish: Que putas estas haciendo? Estoy tratando de dormir.

In 3rd grade I told some kid who was upset about a soccer game during recess to, and I quote, “Stop being a bitch.”  I begged him not to tell the teacher.  As I had accurately predicted, this kid was the penultimate “bitch” and told the teacher.  I thought we were friends.  I guess that bond was broken the second I called him out on his bitchiness.  I’m not bitter.

I couldn’t help it though.  At this point of my life, the parents were in the middle of a divorce, and I was feeling the psychological effects of that–lashing out verbally and physically.  It wasn’t a good place.  Also, my cousin Tony, who my best friends know very well, was charged with taking care of me during this tumultuous period.  Tony was a high-school dropout from Chicago (No worries. He grew up to be a model citizen, and has become my favorite family member).  He grew up around gangs and was a pretty tough kid, from what I can remember.  He would drive my single-digit-aged butt around Sharpstown while we listened to Tupac and Biggie.  I picked up a lot from songs such as “Me and My Bitch”, “C.R.E.A.M.” and other classic gangster rap songs of the time.  One of my fondest memories from childhood was watching BET with Tony.  Cypress Hill’s “Insane in the Membrane” was my favorite video.  It was Tony’s too, probably because they were Latinos.  Who knows? Weren’t they beefing with Ice Cube at that time? Off track…

Like most people, I didn’t learn to curse from television or movies.  My mother was the source of my familiarity and comfort with the magical vulgarity of life.  I actually can’t recall a recent conversation with my mother that didn’t involve one of us swearing at someone or something.  She blames it on growing up with seven brothers.  I blame it on her being a bit of a cray-cray.

My favorite mom-ism is her patented hijo de setenta putas which means “son of seventy whores”.  I always tried to throw that one back at my mom with logic, but as I quickly learned, you can’t use such tactics against women, especially Virgos.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to shake the specter of generations of vulgar language in my family.  I can’t go a day without saying a few “fucks”, throwing in a couple of “shits” and maybe topping it off with a “twat” or two.

For a while, I tried to cut back, but I find it really hard to do so.  Swearing just feels right.  One of the few advantages of the English language is the beauty and ease one can relay their dissatisfaction with a professionally strewn tapestry of harsh words.  Sometimes there is no other recourse but to lay into something or someone.  And sometimes, people need to hear how much of a “douchefag” they’re being.

I have the utmost respect for people who do not curse, and double the props for keeping it clean around me (Will, I’m talking to you).

If you can find a better substitute for the word “fuck”, I want to hear it.  I honestly don’t think there’s a better feeling word in our language (double entendre?).

I get some complaints from people about my facebook statuses, tweets and wall postings.  Unfortunately, I’m incredibly comfortable with the way I speak, and if it makes someone uncomfortable, I respect that.  There’s nothing worse than a cockmonger who doesn’t know how to shut his vulgar, sodding mouth.

Flickersticks,

Dago

PS: Send your complaints to me via personal message on facebook or twitter. :)

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4 thoughts on “Vulgarity”

  1. I honestly don’t think there’s a better feeling word in our language.

    LOL. Agreed.

    Thanks for sharing the fucking history of your foul mouth, yo.

  2. god… if i were to think back to the origins of MY vulgarity, that would be quite the story. i was the first kid in a tiny private stuck-up jewsnob school to get in trouble for a) cursing and b) physically lashing out. (I kicked a boy i didnt like.)

    sometimes my parents ask me why i curse so much and i reminded them that they left me alone to watch south park reruns when i was in 4th grade.

    and as i constantly tell them, “fuck” is the perfect way to get your feelings out in a cathartic way that doesnt ACTUALLY hurt ANYBODY.

  3. no joke, you and I, though from different backgrounds have a very similar foundation of cursing. except the latino influence, cuz me no habla espanol. actually the only similarity is the gangsta rap lol. all those songs you grew up listening to were the same ones my brother (7 yrs older) used to play in his room. i remember when i listened to The Chronic when I was 6. good times.

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