My favourite curse word is Jesus F@*#. I'm not sure why. Perhaps it grew out of those blasphemous, wiccan friendly urban fantasies I read as a teenager. Mercedes Lackey's characters in her Diana Tregarde series liked the phrase "Jesus H. Frog on a pogo stick". I tried that one for a while but it's so bulky. It's not very useful for stubbing toes, twisting joints or breaking bones (and I do all three a lot). More likely it's because when I was a starry-eyed wiccan I refused to say "god damn", so over time I morphed from "gods damn it" to "gods f@*# it" (incidentally, if you are wondering what is censored, you probably aren't old enough to read this so kindly go find Scott Adams blog...at least for a few years). And, after renouncing all religion (I'll talk about that in a later post) and even over time renouncing atheism (and I'll talk about that in an even later post) I think I might have reincorporated the worst of the phrases I could think of. When I curse, I want -everyone- to turn and find out if I've stepped in nuclear goo...or maybe I just tore my teeshirt.
Which causes strife.
Really.
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