My campaign to save dirty words

Harness the semantic power

Harness the semantic power of naughty words

All right, this is just the salvo, the launch pad of one of my pet campaigns. I will be writing much more about it if I don’t chicken out.

I happen to be a lover of dirty words. I think they’re great inventions. They’re fun. They’re filled with energy. They pop. They squirt. They jiggle. They sparkle.

Dirty words are especially delicious in the creation of erotic passion. They bring focus, clarity, verve, gusto to the fore. When strewn about in poetic ways, they are music to the ear.


So why do we have to use them to express ugly thoughts? Why can’t we save juicy words for producing good feelings?

That is my cause. Save dirty words for creating joy and wonder. Find other ways to express rage, hostility, displeasure.

I believe that it is semantic insanity for the same words to stand in for both the most delicious, ecstatic thoughts and for language that expresses our worst, most violent thoughts.

Recently as a beautiful female friend of mine described a struggle she was having, she used a torrent of f-word technology. I worked hard to listen compassionately to what she was saying, but my brain kept responding with oohs and ahhs with every eff.

We need to rescue dirty words and restore them to the nuggets of bliss that they are.



Rest in ecstasy

Rest in Ecstasy

Rest in Ecstasy

From so many accounts that I have heard or read, the moment of dying is a piece of cake. It is a release of being cooped up inside the body and sprung into a state of extraordinary freedom. It’s like waking up from a dream. One moment you’re here, the next moment youre there.

Unless you’re steeped in spiritual literature, the idea probably sounds strange that dying can be considered so much fun. In most media it’s usually portrayed with much agony and sadness. In the minds of many it also ends consciousness. Those who cling to life often cling to the idea that flat-lining means oblivion.

Social media has of course given us more opportunities to hear the classic “Rest in Peace” or RIP. Whenever a celebrity dies I’ll often see the phrase copiously repeated in the feeds. When I see the phrase now, my brain overrides it with “Rest in Ecstasy.”

My own mom died 14 months ago and one of the visions I had of her shortly after she passed was of her as a younger woman dancing in the streets of heaven, ecstatic that she was done with her arthritis and her walker. That’s what I mean by Rest in Ecstasy.