Oh, Who Gives a Flying... ?

Saw a Facebook repost by a good friend (Katie) that referred to an article about the art of "not giving a fuck."  This was followed by another response, a picture of a rodent, with text indicating that the person ran out of shit to give, so there was a rat's ass...

Peter has told me that one of the things he liked about me was the ease with which I use the word "fuck."  I've heard comedians' great skits (particularly the first one I ever saw, by George Carlin, whose humor, intelligence, and sense of decency I loved while he was alive and appreciate even more now, when I watch him on Youtube).

As a term, I remember when I first noticed people, mainly teenagers, using the word as a "swear" word.

I was in Germany, in 1988, as part of an exchange program at my high school.  I spent a few weeks in the city of Frankfurt, with a family whose name I no longer remember.  The family I stayed with had Romanisch roots;  their ancestors might have been considered "gypsies."  It appeared that all the German high school students regularly used the word when something happened that was not to their liking, much like the way that many Americans will say Oh, shit! upon closing the car door with the keys in the ignition.  It's been over twenty years since then (just missed my 25th high school reunion this year).  I think it was George Carlin who said at one point that an entire sentence can be made, only using the word fuck, with different inflections, for each part of the sentence.  Without using "fuckity-fuck-fuck," we don't even need that!

I remember shocking the guidance counselor at K's middle school when I went in for a conference about a year and a half ago.  She was concerned that K was not interacting with other pupils quite as much or quite in the same manner as the other kids (I hesitate to use the word "children" because she's 12 at the time).  The counselor'd said something about K not responding to the other kids in a typical manner for someone her age (I forget the exact wording now), and I said to her, "Well, if she doesn't like them, they can go to hell."  My friend, Joe, who'd accompanied me to the meeting, told me later how the shock showed on her face (I must have been either oblivious to, or had blocked out, her physical appearance at the time).  Oh, well.  Words are words.

There are better essays out in cyberspace about fuck:
http://inoveryourhead.net/the-complete-guide-to-not-giving-a-fuck/
... (can't find the other one;  it's disappeared from my facebook feed).

But anyhow, following my stream of consciousness, I'm now thinking about tonight.  I will take K with me to Barbara's Bunch, which will be held at a shop called At Ease Games, located on Miramar Road, not far from where we live.  Afterward, we'll meet Peter back home (he's spending the night) and Peter and I will dive the Cove in the morning.  We'll bring our snorkeling gear, too, for use later, in the afternoon, with K.