It’s not like I didn’t ever not say it. But I always used it sparingly, a master chef sprinkling pepper on a gourmet dish for taste. Too many f words spoil the broth and all that. When it’s used as noun, verb, adjective and adverb in a single sentence. It becomes, well, fucking monotonous and suggests a rather limited vocabulary. Overuse dilutes the power it wields and becomes cartoonish, much like, well, the word ‘like.’
And then November 8 happened and I began to say “Fuck!” a lot more. And so did my friends. When asked to weigh in, their responses were, “Fuck, yeah,” “Fuckin-A!!!!” “Fuck, I’m so guilty of this!” “I’ve been saying it a lot more since a certain election.” “Fuck, yes!"
In other words, we’re not just overseasoning; we’ve unscrewed the container and poured all the pepper contents out. Burn.
All I have to do is see a certain orange buffoon and it spews out, the verbal complement to the knee jerk response elicited by a reflex hammer. Even if I don’t watch the news, it’s there, blustering in social media, bloviating in videos, and yes, I refer to the buffoon as “it” because to assign a pronoun like ‘him’ would suggest human qualities to some degree, which all evidence indicates it lacks. I largely refer to those who voted for it as “it” too because that vote said all I need to know about their lacking qualities of decency and open mindedness and kindness. They blew it. And we, as individuals, as a nation, are suffering mightily daily. Hourly even.