#%@&!

Let's talk about the F word. I could almost say it's my favorite word of all, but I think that maybe that's not very imaginative. But it is by far my favorite expletive, especially when combined with its own different forms, as in: fuck you, you fucking fucker. Or, as a senseless interjection: oh, fuckety-fuck.

I don't use it much here, partly because it rarely has a place, unless I'm talking about Pablo Fucking Picasso, and partly because I never know (career-wise) who might read this blog now or down the road. (Guess I've fucked myself now, eh?)

I could argue George Carlin's point that: "There are no bad words. [only] Bad thoughts. Bad Intentions." But I believe that the F word has such a ubiquitous reputation that there isn't much else for a person to consider when saying it or hearing it. True, it is just a word, a collection of letters in a certain order. But it's not neutral, like chair or hat. We can't help but get some kind of sensation when we're confronted with it. Even with the sexual connotation removed.

It has the power to unsettle the timid, which, although it's not very nice, I do sometimes enjoy inserting it into otherwise polite conversation just to see a reaction. And, of course, under circumstances when having an impolite conversation is the goal, it's the word that always scores the most points.

There's aren't many words that can do this much. So, really, what's not to love?

Indeed.