That billboard in Altoona, PA. is “ruffling some feathers,” according to a small article in today’s Arizona Republic. Yeah, probably right along with Dominos’ BFD promotion.
But I’d guess not a lot of them. Profanity has become commonplace. The “f” word that shocked my parents now flows from the mouths of their precious grandkids as easily as water runs downhill. As a writer, I’m torn. Part of me, the part that says I ought to be able to come up with another adjective, noun, verb, adverb, whatever, wants to drag out my thesaurus and find THE word. The other part, the part that wants readers, says, “Hey, P.T., readers just want to read. They don’t want an English lesson!”
Hmm. A quandary. Does dialogue ring true if you don’t use today’s vernacular? Can you grab a reader’s attention using words that require a dictionary close at hand? Probably not. So, yes, I’m rated R, and you’ll find a smattering of “f” bombs in my work. Right along with some other words that would have resulted in a healthy dose of mouth washing had my youthful self uttered them. For those who grew up in an age where parental discipline is confined to time-outs, I’m talking soap, not Listerine.
But, now I have grandkids, and honestly, I’d prefer they didn’t spout off in the middle of the store, “Hey, Grandma, can we order Dominos’ BFD for lunch? With pepperoni? Or get some of that crispy frickin’ chicken?” (We all know what that acronym means, even if Dominos did label it a Big Fantastic Deal.)
What galls me most I guess is that profanity has always been rampant. It’s no more “new” than cheating, child abuse, addiction. Some uttered the words outright, others just cloaked it in acceptability by creating acronyms or cutesy phrases like “oh my heck” to express their displeasure and disgust. And those are the people upset with “frickin’ chicken.” Hey, here’s an idea. If you don’t want people swearing, then don’t make up anymore ways for them to do so!
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