When I was growing up my parents almost never cussed. During the entire time I knew my mother she never, ever uttered a single cuss word. EVER! During the entire time I knew my dad he cussed three times. So when I grew up and moved out of the house I began cussing like an inebriated sailor. Then I became a daddy/mommy and I immediately stopped cussing.

My wife, however, who cussed regularly, never stopped cussing. She had no filters. So our daughter, who grew up with one cussing parent and one who didn’t cuss, grew up never cussing until she turned 16. That is when she suddenly decided she needed to revolt against her daddy so she started cussing — though not as much as her mommy. Then she became a mommy and stopped cussing. Now that her daughters are older she has started to cuss again, almost as an homage to her mom — but not in front of her girls. I’m waiting for her girls to turn 16 to see what they do.

I’ve come to the conclusion that no matter how much one cusses, cussing will live on forever. It’s not about how much one cusses but rather how well one cusses. Just one cuss word spoken at just the right time has the power to turn words into art; the power to tweak fundamental conditioned thinking and perhaps the trajectory of human evolution. Cussing speaks to a basic human need for communication that transcends traditional vernacular that keeps us in old stale gestalts.

Or something like that. I can’t believe I’ve written this entire response without a single cuss word! What the fuck is wrong with me?