FUCK

As a word, I find it to be a thing of absolute beauty. I revel in its simplicity, its versatility, and most importantly, its utter baseness. I doubt the English language will ever create another word like it. Words are continuously being added to our lexicon and dictionaries – yet none will carry the same weight, the same raw emotion, as the “F” bomb. Even the gems provided to us by the rap community.

However, given all that love I have for that word, all the respect I feel that precious combination of four letters rightfully deserves – there is a recurring instance when I downright loath the word. And I do not think I am alone.

Let me set the scene...

You are going about your day, performing the normal and innocuous actions most of us call living and your mind wanders off towards blissful nothingness.

Then, some cognitive spark fires in your noggin – a memory leading into a realization leading towards –

Your skull snapping all the way back as the beginnings of an “F” sound come uttering from your mouth.

Your neck recovers some muscular tension and brings your head back around in a counterclockwise motion as you manage the long “AWWH” that always results in the hard “K” with your eyes staring at the ground.

It’s the FUCK that can mean only one thing. “You just realized/remembered that you did something wrong and you have no one to blame but yourself.”

You forgot your mom’s birthday.

You spent your kid’s college fund on a stripper named Hildy.

You voted for a president that just stated how his Social Security plan alone “will not fix the solution.”

You tried using Noxzema as a sexual lubricant.

Or most appropriately…

You neglected to update your online journal for SIX MONTHS!!

Among my friends, dropping the proverbial ball in such a manner is referred to as “having BRONCED it.” (You pronounce the ‘c’ as a ‘k’.)

So, yeah, I BRONCED IT.

Of course, there were reasons, but let me tell you – I want to tell you about them even less than you want to hear about them. I’ll just let you all know that I will fix the problem. (Because, Mr. President, you can’t fix the DAMN solution. The solution fixes the problem.) There will be updates and there will be a lot of them.

BECAUSE I GOT ME SOME SHIT TO SAY.

BECAUSE Michael touched little boys. Paris is a dirty whore. Johnny Cochrane is now running Hell. Evolution is scientific fact. Nicole Simpson can’t rap. And SKEET is the second best word in the English language.

More text-based skeet to come.

wojr  ¶ 5:34 PM