F Bombs Away
There is an excess amount of fuck bombs on Medium. I complain and yet I love the work “fuck.” Doing it is the best. Duh. But this discussion ain’t about doing it, the act of, but, rather, saying it or writing it; the uttering or penning it. The elements of the style of the exquisitely nasty, but quite handy, word “fuck” in language and lore.
I have been a “gutter mouth” cussing mutha fucka since very early on. I started smoking cigarettes at ten years old and cussing came naturally with puffing.
“Fuck you,” accompanied by the middle finger is the most popular and vulgar use of the word. And it always works. Someone beats you up, and a “fuck you” at the bully walking away, screamed through the tears and bloody nose, is the final end to your asskicking that somehow bails you out of total domination.
Of course, the bully says, “fuck you,” and then kicks the shit out of you. Fuck you works before, during, and after every fight or altercation.
Because fuck can be used as a noun, verb, adjective, adverb and every which way it gets overused and wrongly used.
I’m clearly an overuser and abuser of the word when speaking. I’m a fuckspeak abuser. Google it — one who uses the word fuck more than one should.
As a trial attorney, I have had many clients grow concerned during trials that I would fuck up the case by uttering fuckspeak at a witness, attorney or judge in open court.
During trial breaks, I’m a fuckspeakaholic, but maintain a fuckless language in open court.
Well, once I did call the opposing lawyer a “fucking liar,” to the judge, but when the judge dropped his jaw and peered over his reading glasses at me in disbelief, I said,
“I withdraw the adjective, your honor, but add another liar followed by a pants on fire.”
My personal favorite fuck in language moment came early one morning. I woke up and got dressed for court in the predawn darkness.
I stopped for gas on the way to the courthouse. Coming out from buying coffee, I stopped to hold the door for a woman coming in. An old black man was standing there smoking. He looked down at my feet and started laughing slowly and deeply. He shook his head and laughed out, “mutha fucka.”
I looked down and had one black and one brown shoe on my feet, “fuck,” I replied.
“I hear you, man, fuckin a.”