THE COLOR OF LANGUAGE

I presume a lot of my old friends and familiar friends know it full well why I don’t comment anything about anyone who loves to speak a foul word or profanity.    Okay, before they could disseminate this information to my enemy, if any, I’d like to divulge it here that yesterday cursing belonged to my daily vocabulary.  Yes, I admit it like what Prophet Isaiah did quip:  “Woe is me…. because I am a man of unclean lips” (Isaiah 6:5).

I used to start and end my sentence with vulgar words when I talked before my fellow “istambay” at Minyang’s store.  I had loved to be the “bangka” always in our gathering early in the morning and late afternoon, alternating with Tibor.  

Of course, we were not encouraged at home to swear, I got them elsewhere even if I was listening to others with half an ear.  But most people are entertained by colorful language as they probably think a speaker has to make a stink to make them hear.

When I saw it on TV how the Donald was caught on tape recklessly talking about his thoughts on women, I guessed the incident would be the final nail in his coffin regarding his dream to become president.  But I know I must not underestimate the thinking of American voters because of their obsession of this liberty thing, no one can persuade them to vote for this or that no matter how good you are in any argument. 

Americans know they are always totally free.  They know it more during their election day.

Many conservatives have observed cursing is now as normal as breathing even if someone speaks of it in a formal gathering.  Enough for us to surmise expletive is unofficially considered the ninth part of speech, more so in public speaking.  But language evolves, what denotes as compassion today might mean tomorrow as rage.  Take the word “ass,” it used to mean a donkey but today it turns into a gutter language.

 

And as I have noticed, those who are fond of speaking it are those who can get away with murder, so to speak, because they are so good at it.  They could captivate the crowd with various tales using colorful speeches with half-truths by just being gay at one moment and fierce at the next.

Today, I’m sure it’s harder now to tell my five-year-old daughter Rahabelle that professing profanities is something bad.  I know I’d to find better explanations that wouldn’t confuse her young mind each time she hears other people doing that.

For she sees we’re now tickled to hear them.  For today those words make a president.