Anyone who has read even the small sample of writings here has likely noticed some colorful language. I feel it necessary at this early stage to provide an illustration to explain at least one reason why.
A few times a month I stop by a local breakfast place after dropping off the kids at school (Here, I mean this more literally and not figuratively. The figurative might indicate that I just sat on the toilet – a variation of “dropping the kids off at the pool.” Just felt I had to clarify this for some of you people – you know who you are). As usual, the owner was working the counter and he asked one of the servers, as he went to refill a carafe, “is that coffee already grounded?” Then he wrinkled his brow and asked, rhetorically and to no one in particular, “is ‘grounded’ even a word?” It was my lucky day because the rhetorical question is the only way I know how to join a conversation.
And to make this opportunity even sweeter, his question was about language, about which I fantasize being the next Strunk or E. B. White, even though I don’t even know my colon from a participle in the ground.
So I whispered to him, as he passed by again, “hey, whenever I don’t know the right word, I just use ‘fuck.'” He looked at me but didn’t say a thing. And then my brain told me that I’d just suggested to a successful businessman that he ask one of his employees, in front of a dozen or so customers, “is that coffee already fucked?”
Maybe he didn’t hear me, but I never did get that hot cup of freshly fucked coffee to go.
The Childish Man 