“Horseshit” was dad’s word. Mom, with her
Enfant-chien-de-merde preferred her own strangely compounded French. My Detroit cousins cursed in Yiddish, and although I didn’t understand a word, it was funny and I wanted in. So, I tuned into The Tonight Show and boned up on Shecky Green and Don Rickles. Finally, over a holiday dinner, I tried my routine on the Goldsteins. Raising my milk while hoisting my own polyglottal pétard, I shouted “Uncle Al, you’re the biggest
schmuck around!!!”
Schtum. So much
schtum. And that’s when I learned that Context and Timing were the two pillars of comedic vulgarity.
Inspired by
Salty in Certain Circumstances. Image by
Chris W. Bissell.
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