I have always enjoyed a ribaldrous expletive thoughtfully slipped into a sentence for maximum effect. I enjoy the complete inappropriateness of lewd language, used creatively, when least expected – it makes me smile.
I know, I know a tad childish but, fuck it!
To be clear I abhor abusive, anger strewn swearing, spat venomously in the face of recipient; whether deservedly or not. I feel that once a person stoops to foul language in an argument they risk losing the moral high-ground, after-all, it can be difficult to respect a screaming fish wife or roaring bull. I am also not so keen on continual swearing in conversation when other words would better serve but I have no issue with colourful language in films or drama especially when used in relevant context. Or an f bomb, or other colourful grenade, dropped nonchalantly for reinforcement.
I am no shy, retiring delicate flower; I know much of life is gritty and choose to not be easily offended by a string of seemingly innocuous letters written or uttered.
Still, truth is words have power, they are energy – the currency of communication. Their use/misuse has ramifications. We have a duty to be discerning so when my father dismisses a film, on the grounds of bad language, well, this kinda fucks me off! I hate hypocrisy and having recently, unprovoked, called my husband “A vile man”, and subsequently chosen not to apologise to him I feel he has no right to then claim bad language to be offensive. This is, in itself, mightily fucking offensive!
In the end all words are just a string of consonants and vowels conceived to create meaning. They have magnificent power. They have none. It simply depends on how we choose to process them.