The Respectable Art of Swearing
By Your Ever-Humble Correspondent
I have been informed—by polite society, no less—that swearing is a vulgar habit unfit for the refined. Which is precisely why I hold it in such high regard. For if the refined wish to abstain from such verbal pleasures, I say, let them. It leaves more colorful expressions for the rest of us.
Now, I am not advocating indiscriminate profanity, like a drunken parrot in a thunderstorm. No! Swearing, like whiskey, must be aged, measured, and deployed with a craftsman’s touch. A good swear word—one that springs forth at the right moment—can soothe the soul, restore justice, and perhaps even stave off murder.
The moralists claim that swearing is a sign of a small vocabulary. This is a lie as bald-faced as any in Congress. I have known people who could conjugate in three languages, recite Shakespeare from memory, and still drop an expletive so perfect it deserved to be etched in marble. In my experience, the inability to swear properly is a sign not of intellect but of a tragic lack of imagination.
Swearing is, at its core, a public service. The right curse can communicate urgency to the oblivious, such as when a mule refuses to move, or when your neighbor’s child is about to discover electricity in the wrong end of a socket. Try explaining the danger with “Please stop” and see how far you get. A crisp “Get your damn hand out of there!” is both swifter and more memorable.
It is also an equalizer. In a world obsessed with hierarchy, nothing will level a room faster than a well-timed oath. A banker in a silk suit and a farmer in overalls may have little in common, but stub their toes on the same plow blade and you will hear them speak in one tongue—the language of shared agony.
Children, of course, must be taught that swearing is an adult privilege. This ensures they will adopt it with all the reverence and discipline that adults display when lighting fireworks after a bottle of bourbon. Until then, let them observe their elders in the wild, and learn that a curse, like a hammer, is dangerous in the wrong hands but indispensable in the right ones.
Some worry that swearing will corrode our moral character. I counter that, on the contrary, it keeps us from greater sins. The fellow who mutters something unprintable under his breath at the post office is far less likely to come back with a shotgun. Swearing vents the steam before the boiler explodes. It is, in this way, both preventative medicine and a small act of civic responsibility.
So I say to you: swear often, swear well, and for heaven’s sake, swear accurately. The English language is a banquet—don’t limit yourself to bread and water. And the next time a moralizer insists that swearing is low and common, give them a polite smile, tip your hat, and invite them to go… improve themselves elsewhere.
I swear,
Julie Bolejack, MBA
