I swear a lot, y’all.

I swear around most everyone. I swear less around some and more around others. It just depends on the ears that hear me.
I’m not sure why that is. I’m kinda tough on the outside, but soft in the middle.
I’ve heard all along my timeline that using swear words shows a lack of vocabulary.
But does this truly apply to me?
I know some big, meaningful words. I know some small, meaningless ones, too.
Obsequious, for example. I love using this big word to describe some of my, ahem…co-workers.
Asshat, too. A small but powerful word used to describe any of my pal Eh-net’s adversaries.
But what about the words that make me cringe? Make me shiver?

There are a few.

The “N” word is most euphemistically dominant in my head now. I hear that when listening to uncensored hip-hop music. I hear it on the job from sources that I’ll leave nameless. I’m not sure why anyone would feel a comfort level using this word. Black or white. I can’t tolerate it. It’s a word that if used in my growing-up life, woulda got me slapped. Funny, isn’t it, how my parents had no tolerance for racism, yet could make their own kids feel like worthless pieces of crap.
No matter, that’s another story. I took the good and left the rest. As we all do, I imagine.
I can hear some words that slam folks and not bat an eye. Okay. But there are some that I cannot deal with.
I ponder this. Words are words, right?
No. Words are daggers sometimes. Words are spears and barbs and hate-filled lobs sometimes.
And I can’t stand this.
Don’t tell me that your words are simply words and they mean nothing.
Fuck that.
Words are words that mean everything.
So I must use caution as I fling them around with seeming impunity.
Words hate. Words hurt.
But words are glorious and splendid, too.
I wanna find my words and keep them handy.
My tools. My arsenal.
I’m an army of one.

I swear.

What IS wrong with us? What’s wrong with the collective “you?”
Here’s what’s jacked-up my brain lately:
Question 1) What size breasts did Anna Nicole Smith have?
Question 2) How many soldiers died in Iraq last week?
Answer honestly to both.
This is what chaps my ass. I would wager that most people know the answer to the first question over the second. Not purposely, I hope.
The answer to number one is; huge. The more relevant answer to number two is; ask Doe-Doe.
I’m not blaming every American here. Actually, if I polled my friends I’d bet they would rather hear about our kids overseas than where they’re gonna fucking bury some dead woman who leaves behind a couple of silicone implants. No disrespect meant to any fans of the late pseudo-blonde. It’s just that I can’t put a grasp on why it is of such paramount importance to know whether she died of a methadone overdose or her boyfriend whacked her. Thank heaven for PBS. That’s where my money is. Thank you to WJCT for your daily and silent vigilance. Your knowing of things important. Like a family from a small town in Idaho is now childless thanks to an insane war. A mother grieves in Waycross, Georgia because her daughter won’t be coming home for Sunday dinner. A boy will never hear his father’s voice in Denver, Colorado because “The few, the proud, the Marines,” lied to his dad. Iraqi’s are dying by the hundreds, too. Did we forget about them? The civilian population?
We rage inside every day because no one is hearing. We have our own war to contend with right here, folks. The war against the media, the war against hatred, the war against standing behind what we think everyone else may be standing behind. The Dixie Chicks won a grammy. The wave is coming. We need to stand together and silence the bullshit. We do not care as much about Ms. Smith as we do John/Jane Doe over “there.” Let’s get pissed off. We know in our hearts what to fight for, don’t we? Or am I just out on a limb here?