Of Cleavage and Crass Language

The Anchoress cuts Hillary some slack about her lovely cleavage. I agree. She looks nice. That doesn't mean that I agree with her about let's see......anything much at all.

Lot's of snickering and moralizing have surrounded the President's use of the expletive "shit". Who gives a shit? Frankly I don't. Actually, it bothered me more that the man didn't chew his food first and swallow it before blabbing to Blair. As an aside, this snafu reminds me of my red-neck uncle (and this will be the only time I quote the man, ever, in this blog) saying "people want me to say chicken poop, but there's no such thing. Ever smelled it? It's shit. Chicken shit."

Colorful language doesn't bother me. I know. As a "good" girl I should be more worried. But you know what? Sometimes cussing just fits where "civilized" language seems well, uncivilized in context.

For example, when I called my dear friend to tell him that my husband had cancer, his response was a vehement, "SON OF A BITCH!" He didn't say, "Oh that's really too bad. I feel soo sad." Thank God! (And I mean it. I'm not taking His name in vain.)

Which leads me to my cussing compass: swear words, in context are okay . Even a F-bomb well-placed for emphasis doesn't bother me. I know, I have lots to repent for. You have no idea. Some words are so bad they should not be used: C**t, N*****r, etc.

And taking God's name in vain, using it in conversational language like some pea-brained Valley-girl is wrong. When I call on God's name, I want him to listen. When I need him most, I want Him to pay attention not ignore me because I've been crying wolf over and over for ages.