By James Hughes
Copyright brisbanetimes
But there it is. Nobody is immune. Even a man as bookish and perennially temperate as the president of the United States lapsed, when he provided a coruscating insight into the Middle East. Israel and Palestine had been at each other for so long, he explained, “They don’t know what the f— they’re doing.” Fancy. And there you were thinking plenty of people in that conflict knew – and still know – exactly what they’re doing.
If nothing else, the aside further fortified the shatterproof bond between profanity and bloodshed. For real cussing, get your hands on a good Vietnam War flick or paperback. I recommend First Blood, by David Morrell. Gangster movies, too, get the job done. But for swearing entertainment in full lawless splendour, try David Mamet’s Glengarry Glen Ross. When the play travelled to London in 1984, it wasn’t uncommon for theatregoers to walk out. After ingesting Glengarry, you’ll agree the question is not, should we be swearing so much, but should we be swearing better? Get inspired. Lift.
Profanity’s evergreen and growing appeal may be rooted in its adaptability. Think about it. We use it to convey anger, despair, disdain, garden-variety drab despondency, mild surprise, volcanic shock, strong agreement, weariness, awe, and intolerable frustration. Is it possible to castigate yourself or catastrophise to a confidante without letting loose? Is it possible to rail against the gravest injustice – another rise in my strata fees? – without turning the air at least baby blue? It’s not impossible that we’ve conditioned ourselves to swear no matter what’s going on. At least Ivan Pavlov’s hounds waited for the bell.
Say what we will about rampant bad language connoting cultural decay and setting a rank example to kids still learning the rudiments of language. Swearing is imbued with a democratic spirit. Like being nice to a dog or disparaging politicians, almost anybody can do it. If somebody is a mendacious, wheedling, swindling semi-sociopath, we call them a prick. If somebody is intractably pusillanimous, they’re a weak prick. Obstinately, wretchedly indolent? Lazy prick. Person of outstanding capability? F—in’ legend. Compact, portable, effortlessly understood, no wonder swearing is a fixture of existence. It’s even a great way to convey empathy. (F—, I wish there was more I could do to help.)
