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Joan, I'm hoping you slept well last night. I've been spending the day
daubing the soars from my overexposure to the extra-strength
depilatory. I'm researching ways to accelerate the generation of my
dermas and I think a combination of human growth hormone and intravenous
bee venom may do the trick. I'll keep you posted since you were the
impetus for my chemical self-flagellation.<br>
<br>
Anyhow, after years of living in Chicago I'm convinced about one thing
for sure. The speed in which I am able to traverse cross-town traffic
is directly proportional my red-faced, sputum splattering, invective
saturated road rage. It usually comforts me upon arrival to my
intended destination. Like the father in the movie A Christmas Story,
I'm sure that I have "spun a string of obscenities that still lingers
over Lake Michigan to this day." <br>
<br>
And yes, I kiss my mother with this mouth.<br>
<br>
Dave Budge<br>
<br>
Joan Opyr wrote:<br>
<blockquote type="cite"
cite="midBAY10-DAV23B60FFF9F1E9C1775866CC5760@phx.gbl">
<div>By way of pejoratives, Dave offers us:</div>
<div><br>
1) Nutbag<br>
2) Blatherskite<br>
3) Pompwheeler<br>
4) As_hat<br>
5) Do__he Bag<br>
6) Nimrod<br>
7) Numbn_t<br>
8) Troll<br>
9) and, frankly, (just don't call me Frank) anything else that uses a
narrow but descriptive brush. (Joan, I need a bit of creative help here
- you better take over.)<br>
</div>
<div> </div>
<div>Surely (but don't call me Shirley), I can't add anything to
this, Dave, without accumulating an inordinate number of FCC fines.
No, wait -- the FCC doesn't regulate the Internet, does it? Ha! So,
let's see what I can find in my late grandfather's bag of tricks.
(Ranny Watkins was a Master of the art of creative invective. Since
his untimely death in 2002, he has been sorely missed by Montana
ranchers, longshoremen, and merchant marines the world over. Now, when
they drop a wrench on their toe, they don't know what to say except,
"Gosh.")</div>
<div> </div>
<div>So here, for your swearing pleasure, is the Ranny Watkins' short
list. This is just off the top of my flat head. Believe me, there's
more:</div>
<div> </div>
<div>1) Fumble-fingered fart</div>
<div>2) Friday fart at a Saturday market</div>
<div>3) Sh-t for brains</div>
<div>4) Turd-tapper</div>
<div>5) P-ss ant</div>
<div>6) P-ck-r neck</div>
<div>7) P-ck-r wood</div>
<div>8) Dried apple fart</div>
<div>9) G-d damn s-n of a b-tch Eisenhower a--faced b-st-rd.</div>
<div> </div>
<div>The key to good swearing, as you'll note from invective number
nine, is to string your rude words together in a higgledy-piggledy
fashion. Just imagine that you're the unholy offspring of Lewis
Carroll and Lenny Bruce, with a little Dr. Seuss thrown in there for
good measure. </div>
<div> </div>
<div>Now, for those of you who are having trouble grasping this
concept (i.e., Mormons, Jehovah's Witnesses, and Missouri Synod
Lutherans), I'd be happy to offer free Southern swearing lessons. Just
meet me in my garage some day when I'm working on my '76 Chevy
Suburban. I'll be trying to do a simple job, like replacing the
exhaust gaskets. This should take, in an ideal world, fifteen or
twenty minutes. But a rusty old bolt will break off, and I'll need
to drill it out. Unfortunately, the drill bit will also break, the
drill will slip, I'll scrape all the skin off my knuckles, drop the
drill, the cord will hit a sharp metal edge, slicing through the
insulating rubber, sparks will fly, and a small fire will break out in
the engine compartment. As I'm trying to extract myself from inside
said engine compartment, my foot will get caught on the exhaust
headers, and I'll fall ass-over-teacup head-first onto the hard
concrete garage floor. As soon as I'm finished seeing stars, a la
Elmer Fudd, I'll search high and low for the fire extinguisher, finally
locating it in its obvious hiding place behind three rolls of carpet
and a spilled bag of cat litter. Then, I'll promptly spray myself in
the face with it. When I finally get it turned around to put out the
blaze, I'll discover that I've melted my new, special-order,
sixty-dollar spark plug wires. And that's when you'll get it: a
complete dissertation's worth of swearing, Southern-style. </div>
<div> </div>
<div>If you don't know shorthand, please bring a tape recorder. I
hate repeating myself, especially when I'm bleeding from the eyeballs,
shins, ankles and knuckles.</div>
<div> </div>
<div>Damn it all to hell,</div>
<div> </div>
<div>Joan Opyr/Auntie Establishment</div>
<div><a href="http://www.auntie-establishment.com">www.auntie-establishment.com</a></div>
<div> </div>
<br clear="all">
<hr>Get more from the Web. FREE MSN Explorer download : <a
href="http://explorer.msn.com">http://explorer.msn.com</a><br>
</blockquote>
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