Showing posts with label bitch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bitch. Show all posts

Friday, April 18, 2014

A Word on Cussing

To cuss is to say "bad words." That assumes there are bad words. Or perhaps to cuss is to curse, which would mean to curse someone or something.

If we say that the word (the sound and letters of a word) is the bad thing, then we come across some problems. In Spanish the word "puta" is very very "bad." It'd be as bad as "fuck" or "bitch" in English. So if you're in the desert somewhere and you just spontaneously say "puta" then you said a bad word, because we are granting that just saying a bad word is the bad thing. The problem is that some words, like "puta," are in other words. In Spanish, you spell computer "computadora." See? ComPUTAdora. So by saying computer in Spanish you have said a bad word. Of course no one will agree that saying comPUTAdora is a bad thing, so it can't be the case that just sounding out a "bad word" is a bad thing. There are other "bad words"—and I assume in all languages—that are embedded in other words.

So what about intention? If someone says, "You're a bitch," to a respectable woman? Was the "bitch" part the bad part? It seems like it would be equally bad or worse to say to the respectable woman, "You're a nasty, ugly, promiscuous dog. You're such a disgusting dog. You're a dog." So it seems the bad thing in both of those was the intention and meaning behind the word and not the word itself. I could tell the woman, "Hello. When I say "tum tum" I mean whore. You're a tum tum!" You can make any word mean anything, just by making it clear what you mean by it. And you can contrast this with this: When you're buddy hits a home run, you might say, "Hell ya, bitch!" And you're not insulting anyone, and your intention is one of motivation and encouragement, a good thing. Again, the word itself is not the bad thing.

What about the joy of just saying a bad word because it's bad? Again it's not that simple. Yes, some people (maybe me) enjoy cussing because it's cool because it's bad because bad things are cool for some reason. We won't go into that here. So I go around in fourth grade saying, "Fuck ya bitch. This is bitchin'. What the fuck do you guys wanna do? Let's go fuck around. This shit is stupid. School is fucking stupid. My teacher is a cunt," and I would simply be reveling in the fact that I'm being bad, which equals cool. I would say that this here is an instance of bad words being bad, because they are tools that are being used for evil—perhaps to offend or whatever. That would tie in to intention as well. If you're intention is to offend, then it is bad, but the tools themselves (the cuss words, the bad words) aren't necessarily the bad things. It's what's in my rotten black heart bitch! And even just wanting to offend people isn't necessarily a bad thing. Offending can be used to make people laugh or learn, and sometimes an "offensive" thing is a good thing that is simply offensive to confused people. It's okay to want to offend Satan worshipers by telling them they are insane, or you know... some sort of good example like that.

But to want to offend someone just for the sake of offending them would be bad.

But, before we move on, it must be said that many people grow up simply using "bad words" without trying to be cool or bad. To some people the are normal words, and sometimes if they begin as words that are used to try to be cool or bad, sometimes they turn into normal, everyday words that are just being used to work the language and not to try to be cool or bad.

So I suppose simply saying bad words to be bad would be a bad thing, and it would be making letters and sounds into tool of evil. But the real bad part is that there is revelry in being cool and bad, not the words themselves. Because us bad folk would say "goat cheese" all day, if it was considered bad.

What about a real curse that doesn't even include standard "bad words?" Well there you have it. Cursing doesn't need bad words. I can say "fuck you," "go to hell," "fuck off and die," or I can say, "I hope you die a horrible death." All of these are curses of sorts, but again it's the sentiment that matters and not the letters and sounds. The fact is that the bad thing is your ill will toward someone.

And finally, what is vulgar? Our culture has deemed certain things vulgar, so vulgar indeed that movies are deemed too vulgar to watch for underage folks simply because they say "fuck" or some such word a certain amount of times (probably an arbitrary amount of times). So what is vulgar? Obviously "vulgar" means "of the common folk." That's kind of an insulting term then. Vulgar is bad because it is of the common folk? And who are the "common" folk? Poor people! Hooray! The things that poor people do are bad because it's poor people that are doing them, and the things that rich, royal people do are good because they're rich and royal. Those things are "proper" and good. So it would be vulgar to say "dude" or common terms like that at a dinner with the king of Saudi Arabia. Equally, it would be bad to go to your ugly girlfriend's house to meet her religious parents and start flinging "fucks" all over the goddam place...

BUT WHY?

Because society says so? The Bible doesn't say so. God doesn't say so. So, why? Society? All citizens of a country didn't get together and deem a word "bad" in general. These words simply evolved and turned bad when some people started using them in a negative (evil?) way. "Fag" used to mean cigarette. Now if you say "faggot" it's offensive, because people used it to do evil. That's why words are "bad." They're not really bad, but society (the evolution and succession of every new age) frowns on them. Society (ideas passed on to all of us that we all agree on passively) says certain things are offensive because of where they came from; they have a bad history. I suppose a word like "fuck" became bad when it was overly used to speak coarsely about sex. There you have it.

I wrote this on a whim, so if my philosophy is a bit weak you can just fuck off. And by "fuck off" I mean "take it easy."

Sunday, October 21, 2012

But I Love You So Much: Who Am I? Madness.

"But... but... but I love you so much."

I cringed hard.  What the fuck could I say back to her?  There was that ever so familiar silence over the damned phone.  Fuck me this sucks.

Fuck it, I thought.

"Well, you won't love me so much very soon," I said.  Well that kind of felt good, I thought.

"You're an ASSHOLE!  You know that?  Why don't you love me back?  What's wrong with me?  I'm pretty, and I'm smart."

She sounded so desperate, and that made me kind of like her.  She was like a wounded little bird that you just want to take care of and love.

Silence.

"I never said I wasn't an asshole.  I'm sorry."

"Listen.  Listen for a second," her voice was kind of shaking.

I listened.

"Are you still there?"  Her voice was still shaking, and she might have been crying.  She was probably crying.  For sure she was crying.  She was probably crying.  I wondered if she was crying.

"Ya."

"Listen... just please... please love me back.  Please?  What can I do?  I'll do anything... you know there's always going to be other women, no matter who you're with... prettier women.  Why not me?  No one will ever love you like I love you.  I'll love you forever, Danny,"  The desperation was seeping through her voice, but toward the end there... there was some resignation.

"I'm sorry..." and, well, she hung up the damned phone just like that.

I put the phone down.  I took my stupid glasses off and rubbed my face hard with my palms, "Fuck me.  Fuck me for sure."  I glanced at my haggard face in a mirror.  I sat down somewhere.

I just sat there.

"Fuck man.  What a bitch."

A thought flashed into my head: I wondered if I would call her sometime in the near future.  As fast as that thought flashed into my head, it was gone, and I was thinking about something else.

A couple months later, she popped into my head.  One millisecond later, she popped out of my head.

Years later, she might have popped into my head, but I couldn't be sure.  How can one be sure about such things?

Some time later--probably years--I stared into my mirror (I had bought it with money earned, so it was mine).  I looked at my face.  I took off my glasses.  I rubbed my face hard, and it felt good.  I leaned closer into the mirror.  I admired my full head of hair.  I was thirty-five years old.  I was handsome, as I'd always be.

"Who am I?"

"Honey!  We have to go!  We're going to be late!"  My beautiful wife's breathtaking voice joyfully bounced off the tall walls of our massive and massively elegant mansion and reached and soothed and massaged my thirty-five year old ears.  Her face flashed in my mind--my wife's face that is.

Leaning closer to the mirror, "Who am I?"

She floated into our bright, fresh, airy room, like a good wind, "We're going to be late, and you're the guest of honor?"

"Showing up late is showing up early.  You know that," I smiled at her.

"Let's go," she kissed onto my lips.

"Let's stay here and have sex," I countered.

"After.  Let's do that after.  The limo is waiting, and the champagne is on ice," she was so happy, and she loved me perfectly and as much as is humanly possible (that is she loved me maximally), and my love for her was equal in measure.  This was the truth.  Let no man or woman doubt it.  We loved no others, as we loved each other, and we never would; and neither could we either; nor would we ever want to.  EVER.

"Okay, I'll be right down.  Wait for me in the car.  I'll lock up."

"Hurry," she hugged me hard and kissed my left cheek.  She floated away.  She looked perfect, as all heaven.  I waited until I bet myself that she was in the car.

I stared at the mirror, without expression on my face, "Who am I?"

 Madness.

 I knew she would always love me.