I remember an adolescent/off-color joke. The Young Bull and the Old Bull are looking down from a hilltop onto the pasture, below. Young Bull opines: "Let's run down and hump that Cow." The Old Bull slowly gets moving, looks back and corrects: "Let's walk down and hump them all."
I know, I know. Bovine sexism is no better than any other type. And I am against sexism, age-ism, racism and and the acting-out of all other forms of nastiness to those who have done no harm ... those individuals, that is, that have chosen to do me or others gratuitous harm. I have, however, been uncomfortable with policing language and, I suppose, tried to teach my children to measure the damage done rather than words, themselves. I admit it: I grew up in a religious home but on the streets of working-class neighborhoods and feel quite comfortable peppering my language with so-called curse words. Let me elaborate with examples ...
When my older kids were three and four in 1970, we lived in Nova Scotia and would travel to visit family in Rhode Island ... about a dozen hours away. These were the days when kids would lurk freely and untethered through the back area of station wagons and it was our habit to leave Nova Scotia around midnight with the kids sleeping in back and drive until the sun rose ... about half-way to Grandma and Grandpa's home in Maine. Sun-up? We'd stop at a truck-stop and have breakfast. So, there we were, surrounded by truckers ... and our younger child sits up in our booth -- rising to all three years of his height -- and announces:
When I get to Grandma's house, I'm not gonna say ... "Fuck, Shit, Forni-cake, ... "
Little kid went on with a list of the forbidden words to the roar of the beefy truckers ... Yeah! I think the little one got to "Motha-trucka," as well. I cannot recall feeling the least-bit uncomfortable. Words are words and even some actions are devoid of nastiness or aggression. I suspect it wasn't M who taught our kids that if you pulled off part of a straw's wrapper and blew on the exposed end, the wrapper could fly for "the whole nine yards" and that, damn-it, that was fun!
And a quick second story. Our third child, born about a decade later, never cursed in front of Mom and Dad. After a while, it was beginning to be a bit annoying, continually hearing the word "shoot," when we damn-well knew "shit!" was intended. We finally took action:
"Next time you use the word "shoot," we're gonna wash your mouth out with soap."
We were successful, it would appear, as that child's kids feel quite comfortable speaking the King's English like the drivers who back their Lorreys up to the loading docks at Buckingham Palace and, chances are, like the Queen huh-self does when her Princely kids and grandkids get caught with their royal pants down.
On my way to my point: All this talk about not cow-towing to Political Correctness among the Republican candidates for the American Presidency is, indeed, a bunch of Young or Old Bull Shit -- you choose. For me, it's not about the words. I don't give Two-You-Name-Its about what you call me ... but, dammit, treat me kindly ... with respect ... with decency ... as a person in my own right. I have no difficulty with T-Rump using foul words ... but ridiculing McCain, Mexicans, Moslems, Fiorina, Jeb or W. Bush, Rubio, Cruz, Meghan Kelly, anyone's spouse, Women, in general, the President of the United States, ... and inciting others to ridicule or attack these same folk? That shit doesn't flush.
But now back to the Young Bull and the Old Bull. The media pundits are full of regret that they got it all wrong about this bombastic demagogue who keeps saying:
"I wouldn't say this person's a shit but some might ..."
and things of that ilk that are typical of school-yard bullies. But what makes any of these Young Media Types think that they did get it wrong when they predicted that T-Rump might be able to Get It Up and Keep It Up for quite some time ... maybe he Tweets every "Four Hours" to tell his Doctor that he's even surprising himself. But what makes anyone think that he could win the election. Even if 60% of the US of A thinks of themselves as Republicans, there are only roughly 40% of those who support this Clown and his Beastly Bravado. 40% of 60% is 24% ...
No. I suspect the pundits got it right. A solid majority of Americans don't want decisions about their and their children and grandchildren's futures decided by this Fool with -- maybe, just maybe -- a goodly amount of Street Smarts and/or Business Savvy.
So ... Au Nom du GrandPere ... in the name of all those who are old enough to be called Grandma or Grandpa ... "Chill ... and let's walk down the hill and hump'em all!"
********************
In the name of full-disclosure ... I think a lot of Bernie and of the wise Bird who landed on his Lectern ... like the Dove that showed up at the Ark's window to tell Ole Man Noah that the waters were receding. Keep the Faith, Baby!
