Friday, March 30, 2007
True story: 'Who's F--k Johnson?'
By The Erudite Redneck
It was 1972 or '73, which means I was 8 or 9, and I was ridin' around with my Big Brudder, who was 20 or 21 or so.
We were in one of the cool cars he had just out of high school in the early '70s -- maybe the metallic golden-brown '72 Chevelle, maybe the red '68(?) Chevelle, or it could've been the '71 Ford pickup, one of the farm trucks, colored like a Dreamsicle, white-over-orange. Not sure.
We were in what passes for my hometown, two miles west of the house down a two-lane, bepastured and becowed state highway, and were circling the carwash. It was back when there was only one car wash, a four-holer at most, just thin aluminum walls and a roof over drains set in concrete and high-power hoses. Nothin' fancy. Seems like it had wide horizontal stripes, white and light blue, or teal, or something like that.
Big Brudder whipped into the car wash, and drove around back and I looked out the window and on one of those wide-striped outside walls I saw -- new to eyeglasses, I was still new to seeing and reading words on signs and billboards and buildings and such -- I saw and read a name I'd never heard of.
"Big Brudder," I said, "Who's F--k Johnson?"
Sounded it right out. I'd had phonics.
Big Brudder slammed on the brake, I bounced off the dash in those freedom-loving days before seatbelts were such a Big Deal, he turned to me and said, "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"
"I, I said 'Who's F-f-f--k Johnson? I know Jim Johnson, your friend. And I know he has a big brother, John -- John Johnson. Who's F--k? Who's F--ck Johnson??' "
Mirth ensued, on Big Brudder's part anyway. I don't remember exactly when I understood the rest of the story myself.
The deal was: Big Brudder's friend Jim Johnson (not his real last name) was a cop in our little town and he apparently had pissed somebody off, so in big block letters somebody spray-painted:
"F--k Johnson."
Isn't that a fun story? It's the Gospel truth -- and the Gospel is partly why I bring it up. Some eyeballs got scalded around here the other day when I quoted Dr. ER F-bombing the president, so now's the time to talk about it.
Me and the F-word go way back, OK? I learned it that day at the car wash.
I learned what it meant later, sometime after My Little Nephew, who is three or four years older than me, like to seriously injured himself flying across the house to pull Harry Nilsson's notorious "Son of Schmilsson" album, in 8-track form, out of my Loud Mouth when the bawdy and fun "You're Breakin' My Heart" was just about to spill out the immortal lines, "You're Breakin' my heart, you're tearin' it apart, so f--k you" with Mama ER and others all sitting around unawares.
My Little Nephew got there in the nick of time; the soft "F" sound had started but he yanked the tape just as the "uh" sound started, so it made for a fading "fuh ... " kind of sound.
But the word stuck back at the car wash. Been using it ever since. That and just about every other "bad" word you can think of.
I was raised on Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Cheech y Chong, et al. As the former atheist in the great but now disgraced Christian comedian Mike Warnke's story said after serving in Nam for a couple of weeks, then donning a Cross, a Star of David and a small Buddha around his neck, "I, I, I believe!" (Correction: Mike Warnke has officially been regraced! Click on "Tribunal Board Hearing." Cool. -- ER)
I'm a Christian -- although I prefer the term "Jesusian" nowadays because of the direction most of what passes for Christianity has gone in this country in my lifetime, rewriting American history to depict this secular republic as a Christian nation in some other sense besides rhetorical, stooping to the lowest lows of the worst of the worst of two-bit retail politics, yet claiming to have the high moral ground, all along leaving the poor and marginalized to waste away in their poverty and disaffection, yet getting bent out of shape about stupid s--t like cussing.
They can keep that kind of Christianity.
"F--k" that kind of religion, I might say, because it's not the faith of our Christian fathers, not the earliest, earliest ones anyway. I don't want to be associated with it.
From time to time, I see people in the Real World who I know read this blog, and I drop an F-bomb or something, all casual like, and I always think, "Boy, I keep the language clean on Erudite Redneck on purpose, because I know there are some sensitive eyes out there. I hope I didn't just singe their ears." I sense the disconnect.
I cuss. Sometimes creatively. Between being raised on the bawdy humor of George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Cheech & Chong and Redd Foxx (who Mama ER even liked, bawdiness and all), and spending 20 years in newspaper newsrooms, which are nothing like "normal" office environments and where, since we work with words every day, we tend to use every damn one of them once in awhile, I can't help it. Nor do I especially want to, any more, as long as I retain the ability to judge the ears, and sensibilities, of those around me.
Out of respect for others, I'll continue to try to keep the language under control on this blog, more or less -- for the same reason I didn't cuss in front of Mama ER, or Mama Jim (Dr. ER's mama), or others.
But I'm relaxing the hard, fast ban on the use of "bad" words.
Sometimes nothing says it like "F--k." I will retain the quaint use of dashes. Maybe that'll help keep me from scalding some eyeballs.
--ER
It was 1972 or '73, which means I was 8 or 9, and I was ridin' around with my Big Brudder, who was 20 or 21 or so.
We were in one of the cool cars he had just out of high school in the early '70s -- maybe the metallic golden-brown '72 Chevelle, maybe the red '68(?) Chevelle, or it could've been the '71 Ford pickup, one of the farm trucks, colored like a Dreamsicle, white-over-orange. Not sure.
We were in what passes for my hometown, two miles west of the house down a two-lane, bepastured and becowed state highway, and were circling the carwash. It was back when there was only one car wash, a four-holer at most, just thin aluminum walls and a roof over drains set in concrete and high-power hoses. Nothin' fancy. Seems like it had wide horizontal stripes, white and light blue, or teal, or something like that.
Big Brudder whipped into the car wash, and drove around back and I looked out the window and on one of those wide-striped outside walls I saw -- new to eyeglasses, I was still new to seeing and reading words on signs and billboards and buildings and such -- I saw and read a name I'd never heard of.
"Big Brudder," I said, "Who's F--k Johnson?"
Sounded it right out. I'd had phonics.
Big Brudder slammed on the brake, I bounced off the dash in those freedom-loving days before seatbelts were such a Big Deal, he turned to me and said, "WHAT DID YOU SAY?"
"I, I said 'Who's F-f-f--k Johnson? I know Jim Johnson, your friend. And I know he has a big brother, John -- John Johnson. Who's F--k? Who's F--ck Johnson??' "
Mirth ensued, on Big Brudder's part anyway. I don't remember exactly when I understood the rest of the story myself.
The deal was: Big Brudder's friend Jim Johnson (not his real last name) was a cop in our little town and he apparently had pissed somebody off, so in big block letters somebody spray-painted:
"F--k Johnson."
Isn't that a fun story? It's the Gospel truth -- and the Gospel is partly why I bring it up. Some eyeballs got scalded around here the other day when I quoted Dr. ER F-bombing the president, so now's the time to talk about it.
Me and the F-word go way back, OK? I learned it that day at the car wash.
I learned what it meant later, sometime after My Little Nephew, who is three or four years older than me, like to seriously injured himself flying across the house to pull Harry Nilsson's notorious "Son of Schmilsson" album, in 8-track form, out of my Loud Mouth when the bawdy and fun "You're Breakin' My Heart" was just about to spill out the immortal lines, "You're Breakin' my heart, you're tearin' it apart, so f--k you" with Mama ER and others all sitting around unawares.
My Little Nephew got there in the nick of time; the soft "F" sound had started but he yanked the tape just as the "uh" sound started, so it made for a fading "fuh ... " kind of sound.
But the word stuck back at the car wash. Been using it ever since. That and just about every other "bad" word you can think of.
I was raised on Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Cheech y Chong, et al. As the former atheist in the great but now disgraced Christian comedian Mike Warnke's story said after serving in Nam for a couple of weeks, then donning a Cross, a Star of David and a small Buddha around his neck, "I, I, I believe!" (Correction: Mike Warnke has officially been regraced! Click on "Tribunal Board Hearing." Cool. -- ER)
I'm a Christian -- although I prefer the term "Jesusian" nowadays because of the direction most of what passes for Christianity has gone in this country in my lifetime, rewriting American history to depict this secular republic as a Christian nation in some other sense besides rhetorical, stooping to the lowest lows of the worst of the worst of two-bit retail politics, yet claiming to have the high moral ground, all along leaving the poor and marginalized to waste away in their poverty and disaffection, yet getting bent out of shape about stupid s--t like cussing.
They can keep that kind of Christianity.
"F--k" that kind of religion, I might say, because it's not the faith of our Christian fathers, not the earliest, earliest ones anyway. I don't want to be associated with it.
From time to time, I see people in the Real World who I know read this blog, and I drop an F-bomb or something, all casual like, and I always think, "Boy, I keep the language clean on Erudite Redneck on purpose, because I know there are some sensitive eyes out there. I hope I didn't just singe their ears." I sense the disconnect.
I cuss. Sometimes creatively. Between being raised on the bawdy humor of George Carlin, Richard Pryor, Cheech & Chong and Redd Foxx (who Mama ER even liked, bawdiness and all), and spending 20 years in newspaper newsrooms, which are nothing like "normal" office environments and where, since we work with words every day, we tend to use every damn one of them once in awhile, I can't help it. Nor do I especially want to, any more, as long as I retain the ability to judge the ears, and sensibilities, of those around me.
Out of respect for others, I'll continue to try to keep the language under control on this blog, more or less -- for the same reason I didn't cuss in front of Mama ER, or Mama Jim (Dr. ER's mama), or others.
But I'm relaxing the hard, fast ban on the use of "bad" words.
Sometimes nothing says it like "F--k." I will retain the quaint use of dashes. Maybe that'll help keep me from scalding some eyeballs.
--ER
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Reminds me of the time one of my older cousins cussed in front of me, and our straight-laced uncle got onto him for it. At twelve years old, my reply of "I don't have virgin ears, ya know" probably shocked that uncle far more than the original cussing!
I have been taken to the woodshed because I, too, have occasionally typed the full word into blog posts of mine. "You say you are Christian, yet such language!"
My reply is simple. First, I do not blaspheme on my blog. Ever. Second, the word is a great way of grabbing people's attention, showing them you are serious, or seriously p. o.'d. Finally, it's my blog and no one is forcing you to read it. If your eyes and sensibilities are so delicate that they erupt in to little flaming balls should they encounter foul language, go somewhere else. I tend to agree with my wife that overuse can turn people off; judicious, pointed use, however, is a good way to drive home a point.
My reply is simple. First, I do not blaspheme on my blog. Ever. Second, the word is a great way of grabbing people's attention, showing them you are serious, or seriously p. o.'d. Finally, it's my blog and no one is forcing you to read it. If your eyes and sensibilities are so delicate that they erupt in to little flaming balls should they encounter foul language, go somewhere else. I tend to agree with my wife that overuse can turn people off; judicious, pointed use, however, is a good way to drive home a point.
Now I know who taught me that bad
word. hheee. I Now when I hear a
women say it. I just kringe. Thinking that how often it used to
cross my lips. Here is my story.
I was out of high school. Maybe 19
I was once again having to work on
my Mustang. (my dad had 3 girls
so he worked with what he had)
I was under the car. The emergency
brake cable, had broken loose and
wrapped around the drive shaft.
I was unwinding. All the greasy
crap was falling into my eyes.
As a very loud long line of
very bad words came out. At the
exact time I saw it. The very small shoe of my sweet little
momma. It landed on the bottom
step. Turned and went right back
up the steps, and in the house
Later in the house. She told me I
needed my mouth washed out with
soap.
My kids have been pretty sheltered.
They do how ever know about those
words. The kids on the school bus
were quick to educate them.
word. hheee. I Now when I hear a
women say it. I just kringe. Thinking that how often it used to
cross my lips. Here is my story.
I was out of high school. Maybe 19
I was once again having to work on
my Mustang. (my dad had 3 girls
so he worked with what he had)
I was under the car. The emergency
brake cable, had broken loose and
wrapped around the drive shaft.
I was unwinding. All the greasy
crap was falling into my eyes.
As a very loud long line of
very bad words came out. At the
exact time I saw it. The very small shoe of my sweet little
momma. It landed on the bottom
step. Turned and went right back
up the steps, and in the house
Later in the house. She told me I
needed my mouth washed out with
soap.
My kids have been pretty sheltered.
They do how ever know about those
words. The kids on the school bus
were quick to educate them.
At work one day one of the "Christian" secretaries was telling how she walked out of the theater because of the profanity being used in the movie "Platoon". It was a few years ago you see.
So knowing that I was a Nam-Vet asked me what I though about the use of such language. Did "they" really talk like that.
I said, well they really were not using profanity it was more like "Punctuation", You know, like saying, f..k as a comma or using f.. ing as an exclamation point, or maybe even just a period.
Jesus was used in the same way. Although JFC, was a more powerful exclaimation. C... S.....was similary useful. She was green by the time I was through explaining that it was so prevalent that you didn't even hear it anymore. So I didn't delve into the use of c..t, d..k h..d, etc.
Imagine being so offended by a films language that you would have to leave. I guess the murders, killings, rapes, betrayals, mayhem, and body parts in the movie didn't offend.
Bad lanuage is offensive, but it does have its uses. Imagine how could you otherwise express disgust from being hit by the back splatter from a close shooting. Or finding tiny bits of gore from a guy disinegrated by a 20 mm rocket that landed at his feet. Or how can you appropriately describe the m..... f.....r c... s..... who is targeting you from the tree line.
Now that was my war and my use of the f/c/j/etc. words. I wonder what the guys and gals will bring back from Iraq and other places of interesting close contact. Will the ultra-sensitives not hear their pain and needs and frustrations because they may use these words to describe them? It is a good excuse. Use the bad language as a ploy to ignore the misery, the dis-alusionment, the hate.
While I was in Vietnam I had a helmet cover that had F..K THE ARMY on it in 23 languages. ( I worked around lots of different linguist). When I left, my buddies, drew names to see who got to inherit that cover.
What will the new guys bring back?
So knowing that I was a Nam-Vet asked me what I though about the use of such language. Did "they" really talk like that.
I said, well they really were not using profanity it was more like "Punctuation", You know, like saying, f..k as a comma or using f.. ing as an exclamation point, or maybe even just a period.
Jesus was used in the same way. Although JFC, was a more powerful exclaimation. C... S.....was similary useful. She was green by the time I was through explaining that it was so prevalent that you didn't even hear it anymore. So I didn't delve into the use of c..t, d..k h..d, etc.
Imagine being so offended by a films language that you would have to leave. I guess the murders, killings, rapes, betrayals, mayhem, and body parts in the movie didn't offend.
Bad lanuage is offensive, but it does have its uses. Imagine how could you otherwise express disgust from being hit by the back splatter from a close shooting. Or finding tiny bits of gore from a guy disinegrated by a 20 mm rocket that landed at his feet. Or how can you appropriately describe the m..... f.....r c... s..... who is targeting you from the tree line.
Now that was my war and my use of the f/c/j/etc. words. I wonder what the guys and gals will bring back from Iraq and other places of interesting close contact. Will the ultra-sensitives not hear their pain and needs and frustrations because they may use these words to describe them? It is a good excuse. Use the bad language as a ploy to ignore the misery, the dis-alusionment, the hate.
While I was in Vietnam I had a helmet cover that had F..K THE ARMY on it in 23 languages. ( I worked around lots of different linguist). When I left, my buddies, drew names to see who got to inherit that cover.
What will the new guys bring back?
# posted by 
: 10:23 PM
: 10:23 PM
People suck. I wrote a news story once about a railroad bum who got murdered in Texas. I was young and thought nothing of quoting some of his road dogs directly, in their grief, with "goddamn" this and "goddamn" that, without dashes.
I got 13 letters-to-the-editor bitching, which the editorial page editor saved up to run on on a whole half-page devoted to my reprobate self.
Well, they, and he, can still kiss my ass, lo, these 17 years later. Self-righteous f---ks.
I got ONE letter from a lil ol' lady Baptist gal who knew the score:
Somebody had been MURDERED, and all these assholes could think about was their ears ringing because somebody used bad language around them.
F--k 'em then. F--k 'em now -- and all like 'em.
I got 13 letters-to-the-editor bitching, which the editorial page editor saved up to run on on a whole half-page devoted to my reprobate self.
Well, they, and he, can still kiss my ass, lo, these 17 years later. Self-righteous f---ks.
I got ONE letter from a lil ol' lady Baptist gal who knew the score:
Somebody had been MURDERED, and all these assholes could think about was their ears ringing because somebody used bad language around them.
F--k 'em then. F--k 'em now -- and all like 'em.
In one of those synchronic moments that can only be believed because it's true, a right wing blogger to whom I link has written an entire post about this very topic. I thought it amusing that he couldn't even type the word "hell", but rendered it "he77". At the same time, I respect his refusal to use foul language, and said so, even as I wrote a comment similar to the one I wrote here yesterday, and will try to be a bit more conscious of the language I use in the future.
I have to admit, however, that there is something a bit, well, scary about an adult who types "he77", or who gets all bent out of shape over the use of profanity (often confusing it with actually taking the name of the LORD in vain). I mean, it is one thing to refuse to use such language, out of whatever moral commitments one might have. It is another, however, to be so sensitive that one loses the perspective that other people think and speak differently. Again, I have no moral qualms about the use of such language as it has its uses; I do think, however, that we need to be aware of others' sensitivities on these matters, because it can be distracting to some.
PS: A childish part of me wanted to run a post entitled "F--kety F--kers and their F--king F--king of F--king America", but common sense prevailed. Still, it might be worth a go when I've not had enough sleep . . .
I have to admit, however, that there is something a bit, well, scary about an adult who types "he77", or who gets all bent out of shape over the use of profanity (often confusing it with actually taking the name of the LORD in vain). I mean, it is one thing to refuse to use such language, out of whatever moral commitments one might have. It is another, however, to be so sensitive that one loses the perspective that other people think and speak differently. Again, I have no moral qualms about the use of such language as it has its uses; I do think, however, that we need to be aware of others' sensitivities on these matters, because it can be distracting to some.
PS: A childish part of me wanted to run a post entitled "F--kety F--kers and their F--king F--king of F--king America", but common sense prevailed. Still, it might be worth a go when I've not had enough sleep . . .
Never mind. Found it.
For anyojne interested, it's Conservative Wisconsin Turtle Lover.
Here's the link:
http://twoturtlelovers.blogspot.com/2007/03/is-it-sin-to-cuss-swear-curse.html
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For anyojne interested, it's Conservative Wisconsin Turtle Lover.
Here's the link:
http://twoturtlelovers.blogspot.com/2007/03/is-it-sin-to-cuss-swear-curse.html
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