“In Praise of Profanity”

That’s the title of a new book by Michael Adams.

According to the publisher, The Oxford Press, the book is a “provocative and unapologetic defense of profanity in modern society.”

Personal admission right up front:  I can swear like a sailor.

So his words are music to my ears.

Since moving to the gentle state of South Carolina, I have curbed my language, softened it. But that doesn’t mean that something untoward doesn’t slip out occasionally.  Sometimes it happens under the influence of a glass of wine or two. And when it happens, it feels good, comfortable, passionate.  The word, or words, just come out for all to hear.  And, I normally regret it later.

But now, according to the author of this new book, it’s all okay.

Maybe even better than okay.

It seems a little profanity can create an emotional release, even spur a strong relationship.  Can create trust among friends.

The author also tells us that, when used correctly, profanity is “expressively complicated.”

Let me be clear.  I am wildly against gratuitous profanity.  Comedians who think that pounding four letter words into their routines makes everything better, stronger, funnier. Characters in movies whose every-other-word is profane.  Not my cup of tea.

I was, and I hate to admit this, the mother who didn’t censor her language.  Interestingly, none of my children even think about cursing, swearing.  No, they leave that to me.   And, typically, out of respect for them and their families, I behave myself.  But there are those times……..

So, fair warning:  If I fall and snap an ankle, spill red wine on a friend’s white sofa, find myself plunging to earth in an airplane, there will be profanity.  It’s my way of telling you that I take those things VERY seriously.

And everyone around me will know exactly how I feel.

Clearly.  Passionately.  Honestly.