privatesnafu1 F-bombs. Such a kindly way to describe what used to be the ultimate curse word.  Now the modern landscape is littered with them.

I recently caught the end of a news piece about a new computer device that inserts “QUACK” in place of foul words (pun intended).  I tried searching the Internet for more information, but using “quack” and “cursing” just lead me to things about bad doctors and University of Oregon alumni. I can’t imagine this device providing much competition for tech dollars headed toward the Wii or the iPad. I would be just as annoyed by seeing “QUACK” all over the page as I am with needless swear words. Both lack any sort of creativity or enhancement of the subject at hand. If I had to see something, I’d prefer the cartoon method of adding $#!@!!**! when necessary. Substituting the word “freaking” is a copout.

For the past couple years a Southern California teenager has been promoting a “No Cussing Club”—at www.nocussing.com you can join, get a cuss jar, a certificate, and name your own chapter (as long as it’s a nice name)—and he tried to get the state legislature to pass a “No Cussing Week” proclamation. The Assembly passed it, but the Senate felt it had bigger issues to deal with, like getting re-elected. Can something like this really catch on? Probably not for the 18-29 year-old demographic. I’ve been there myself.

Personally, I’ve come full circle on the darned old habit. When I was in my late teens I was trying out my new maturity by tossing out an occasional “damn” or “hell” around the house. My dad was never one to lecture, so I actually listened to his rare advice: “People will judge you by the way you talk. Is that how you want to be thought of? As a woman with a foul mouth?” Well, no. I respected him in spite of the fact that when called upon he could turn one swear word into a memorable and colorful phrase (often involving “tap dancing”).  He gave a similar lecture on chewing gum with my mouth open, and to this day I’m not a gum-chewer.

So I reformed, and my pure life proceeded for years—until I landed a job at the Press-Telegram. From the moment I entered the newsroom my vocabulary went to you-know-where in a hand basket. I got so used to hearing one editor refer to another by his full name, with his middle name being F—ing, that I became numb to the shock value.

All bets were off in those days; we smoked at our desks, we swore like sailors, we drank at lunch (well, that “we” is used loosely of course). Nothing good came of all this—emphysema, visits to rehab, divorce(s) and much, much more.

The years pass. Now I’m working at an agency that provides early childhood education (preschool) to local families. I don’t work directly with the children, but they are nearby. I was quickly brought into reality when I punctuated a sentence in a colorful way. From the office across the hall I heard the director gently say, “We don’t say damn, Louise.”  She’s had to say something similar a couple more times, but I’m doing better.  I’ve adopted an alternative set of curses, though “shazbot” doesn’t really feel as satisfying when I’m startled or injured.

A good curse used to be “a pox upon you,” or some other terrible fate. They served a purpose. Check out www.trevorstone.org the Elizabethan Curse Generator, and the next time somebody cuts you off in traffic, try spitting out “Thou lewd, lean-witted bladder!”

Today’s version of cursing is just a lazy way of punctuating sentences for lack of adjectives and adverbs. Blue language doesn’t make comedy routines more humorous, and it certainly doesn’t make watching television more enjoyable when the continual beeping makes the conversation impossible to interpret. Although I do admit I laugh when Craig Ferguson swears and they block out his mouth and add some incomprehensible gibberish.

Something else that bothers me is the overuse of the word “like” in conversation. But, you know, so many world issues, so little time … eff-it.