Dagnabbit! We Can Do Better

In the immortal rooting tooting words of Yosemite Sam . . . “Dagnabbit!”

Dagnabbit!  Dagnabbit!  Dagnabbit!

 

I recently was two stories about swearing in the United States.  Both dealt with ranking the states by who swore the most on social media posts, thus who swore the most.  One was based on Reddit.  Reddit is a social news aggregator—a mixture of article links and discussion platform.  Basically, topics and headlines are posted that are open to discussion by the readers.  The other was based on what was once known as Twitter and now is simply “X”.  The idea behind “X” is for people to post content to create public conversations.  Apparently swearing is a big part of both platforms.  Counting the number of swear words and the state from which the poster was from gave the pollsters the method to rank the states.  The more words of profanity, the higher the state ranked.

 

According to the poll based on Reddit, Texas was the state that swore the most with an average of seven words of profanity per post.  Texas was followed by Ohio, Florida, Tennessee, Missouri, Iowa, Indiana, Oklahoma, and Idaho.  Of course, this being a poll, it doesn’t always line up with other polls using similar statistics.  Another poll that used Reddit posts came up with a different ranking of the states with the worse potty mouth . . . the top ten states, from top to bottom were: Texas, Connecticut, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Florida, New Jersey, Maine, Ohio, North Carolina, and Iowa.  Montana was way down the list at number 44.

 

The poll based on “X” had Maryland swearing the most (66.3) followed by Louisiana (61.7), Georgia (57.4), Virginia (47.6), Ohio (47.3), Mississippi (45.9), Pennsylvania (45.7), Nevada (45.5), New Jersey (45.5), and Michigan (45.3).  In this poll Montana finished in 39^th place with a 29.2 score.  What the . . . !

 

Dagnabbit!  Montana is better than that!  My experience is that Montanans can swear with the best of them.  I’ve heard it.

 

I noticed that there were some states that were in the top ten in all the polls . . . Texas, Ohio, Florida, New Jersey, and Iowa were all listed more than once in the top ten of swearing states.  I can see Texas, Ohio, Florida, and New Jersey being at the top of the rankings . . . I have been to those states and if I had to live there, I would swear too.  Iowa surprised me.  I have lived there too, but it wasn’t bad enough to make me swear . . . maybe an occasional curse word, but constant swearing that would put it in the top ten . . . naw.  Shoot!  Most of my life, no matter where I lived, Texas has always made me swear, so I imagine if I lived there, I’d be swearing all the time.  You know Texans.  Ohio thinks highly of itself, is opinionated, and now has J.D. Vance as the Orange One’ vice-presidential running mate . . . that alone can make anyone swear . . . a lot.  Florida . . . crowded with lots of us old people, crazy politics, and just a lot of plain old weirdness.  Yup, swearing.  New Jersey, sorry if this is being stereotypical, but it is the land of gangsters, urban dwellers, crime and despite being called the “Garden State” is dismal . . . swear-worthy.

 

I would not disagree that any of those states do not deserve their ranking . . . they earned it.  At the same time, how did Montana rank so low when it comes to swearing.  I have heard a lot of swearing the past couple of weeks as we have been in a gripping heatwave strangling us to death.  I have heard it when we are in the nine months of winter freezing our southern extremities off.  I have heard it whenever the University of Montana plays Montana State University in any sport, but especially football.  I have heard it when the governor blatantly raised property taxes across the state except for him and his rich friends . . . his neighbors were especially swearing.  I have heard it when May rolls around and lasting until the last tourist leaves in late September.  Politics create a lot of swearing in Montana . . . even in years that there is no election.

 

Swearing, in my estimation, is woven into the fabric of who we are as a state and as Montanans.  Hey, this is the “wild west” . . . except when John Wayne is portraying the “west” (no swearing allowed) . . . as rough and violent as the “wild west” was, I am certain that there was swearing.  As I said earlier, I have experienced it, witnessed it, and even taken part in it.  Knowing this, I am floored that Montana ranked so low when it came to swearing.  We are better than the bottom ten.

 

Dagnabbit!  We cannot sit back and allow our reputation as a rough and tumble state for hard living be soiled as being some sort of pious pansies.  We are better (or is it worse) than that.  We can cuss.  We can swear.  We can rant.  We can rave.  And we can do it with the best of them.  Sit down those beers and show America what we can do.  We are Montanans, dagnabbit!  Think about it . . . Texas, Ohio, Florida, New Jersey, and Iowa . . . better than Montana!  That alone should ramp up the swearing.

 

Dagnabbit!  Let’s nip this in the bud and claim our rightful place among the best in the nation.  Montana, we can swear with the best of them.  Let’s show them what we are made with. Dagnabbit!

 

Oh, Shoot!

George Carlin used to say that “shoot” was just “sh*t” spelled with two O’s . . . and, in my experience, when I have used that expression or heard others use that expression, they have lengthen the word to include the letter “o” times two.  When people use the expression . . . such as Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid jumping off a cliff to avoid the advancing posse, they are using George Carlin’s understanding of the phrase more often than not.  I know because I am speaking from personal experience.  If I utter the phrase, “Oh, shoot” . . . it could easily be translated to “Oh, sh*t!”

Recently my seventeen month old granddaughter . . . the purest of all children . . . has begun uttering the phrase, “Oh, shoot!”  Of course, in my opinion, it is the cutest thing in the world.  According to the daughter and son-in-law she just started doing it, and they are not sure where she picked that phrase up from.  I can assure you that it was not me.

Now I am not going to proclaim that because I am a minister that I have a “holier than anyone else” attitude . . . nor will I claim that I would not swear.  I was raised on military bases . . . the bastion of swearing . . . and, I picked up a healthy array of swearing . . . I can swear with the best of them; but, I did not teach my granddaughter how to paraphrase a swear phrase.

Granted, I have taught my granddaughter a lot of things that her parents are not yet sure they appreciate.  I have her how to lick a finger, put it on another person, and go, “Ssssssssssssss.”  Then I tell her she is “hot” . . . she particularly likes to do that to her father and grandpa (me).  I have taught her how to say “whoa” . . . we are working on the “whoa, dude” part now.  But, I have never taught her to say, “Oh, shoot!” 

As a grandparent I have invoked my right to be myself around my granddaughter . . . for the most part.  That is the privilege of being a grandparent . . . you get to be yourself . . . for better or for worse.  At least that is how my daughter and son-in-law see it . . . I think they cringe whenever “grandpa” gets the granddaughter . . . what is he going to teach her this time!  I assure you that I pretty well keep it on the more conservative side.  Because of that, I can assure you that I did not teach my granddaughter, as cute as it is, to say, “Oh, shoot!”  Besides, that is too much work . . . if you are going to say it, say it right!  I guess if she picks up that phrase, I will have to claim that it is my fault.

Thankfully, I have not been blamed for the newly found phrase in my granddaughter’s limited vocabulary.  The daughter and son-in-law are looking at other relatives to blame. As much of a relieve that that is, I am sure that I am going to get more than my fair share of credit for the unsavory vocabulary and habits of my grandchildren through the years . . . that is a grandparent’s pride and joy . . . teaching our grandchildren the things their parents don’t want them to know.  Better a family member than some stranger on the street!

If my granddaughter begins to use sign language—in particular the Hawaiian sign for “good luck”—while in the car . . . that was probably me.  If she starts using sarcasm . . . that was probably me.  If she begins to call Box Elder bugs “democrats” . . . that was probably me.  If she starts rooting for the Nebraska Cornhuskers, yelling, “Go Big Red” . . . that was probably me and a couple of uncles and her mother.  If she starts rolling her eyes while other people are talking . . . me.  As much as I would like to take credit in the future for the phrase of “You betcha” . . . that is most of Montana.  The bottom line is that the little squirt is going to pick up things from her grandpa . . . that is the joy of being related to an old coot! 

So . . . I want to apologize to my daughter and her wonderful husband now.  I want to apologize for anything that I might rub off on my granddaughter that might be embarrassing to them in a public place . . . especially if she learns the actual terms instead of the Carlin versions of the words.  C’est la vie . . . that is what the old folks say.  Such is the circle of life . . . it all goes round and round.  My parents survived it . . . the wife and I survived it . . . and, so will my daughter and son-in-law.  The granddaughter will too.

Bonding with a grandchild takes many forms . . . there are many forms of connecting between a grandchild and a grandparent.  Some are in actions that are imitated, others are in the words that are mimicked . . . all are grounded in love.  Love is the key.  I do not think that any grandparent sets out to corrupt his or her grandchild . . . no, I just think that links are formed in the strangest places between the young and the old.  It is the link that matters . . .

Years from now, I am certain, that my granddaughter will utter the phrase, “Oh, shoot”, and she will remember . . . she will remember the laughter . . . she will remember the smiles . . . and, she will remember the person from which she learned that phrase.  That, my friends, is what matters the most.  I did not teach my granddaughter to paraphrase swearing . . . but, I did teach her to love.  The greatest form of love is imitation . . . oh, shoot . . . I mean, oh sh*t . . . there is a tear in my eyes!  I sure do love that little shoot!

Oh, Bo!

In Bo Pelini’s tenure as the University of Nebraska Cornhusker football coach it doesn’t take a whole lot of imagination to realize that those are not prayers he is screaming on the sidelines.  Any person—including me, with trifocal glasses—can pretty well read his lips.  The man has been known to blow a few gaskets in his time of coaching Big Red . . . easily caught on camera countless times over the years.  Of course, the descriptions used to describe him often mention the word “fiery” and “profane” . . . what can anyone say, he is originally from Ohio . . . a blue collar state.  So, why is there such an uproar being made over an audio tape from two years ago when he was screaming a blue streak to some acquaintances after staging what has been called one of the biggest comeback victories every in Memorial Stadium over Ohio State . . . who had a 21 point lead late in the third quarter?

Was it because he pointed his profanity-filled, f-bomb laced remarks at the Big Red Nation?  The Big Red Nation that has so often been touted as being among college football’s best fans?  The Big Red Nation who claim a sense of loyalty and faithfulness unmatched in college football . . . who stand by their team no matter whether they win or lose?  The same Big Red fans who started streaming out of the stadium—thinking all was lost, while the team was staging one of the greatest comebacks in Cornhusker history?  The faithful leaving the stadium partially filled?  Yep, that is pretty much the foundation of the complaining . .. Bo cussed out the faithful . . . profanely describing them as blankety blank fair weather fans.  That is what he did.

Now, mind you, he also cussed out the sports staff of the Omaha World Herald newspaper, but no one was in disagreement with that part of the rant.  Shoot, you can hear that happening in just about every little town in Nebraska on Monday mornings during the football season.  No one really cared that Bo cursed the Omaha World Herald sports department and writers . . . it was a consensual agreement across the state that they probably deserved it.  No, it was over the fact that Bo swore at the Husker faithful in some mighty fine blue language that made the paint peel.  Big Red Nation got its feelings hurt and cried foul.

Big Red Nation should not have been surprised by Bo’s rant . . . unless they were blind and sitting in the nose-bleed section of section of Memorial Stadium . . . everyone in Big Red Nation knows that Bo is a colorful, feisty, fiery sort of guy who likes to use a lot of profane language during the games.  Ask any Big 12 of Big 10 official.  Just about everyone in Huskerland knows that Bo has a temper that is on a really, really short fuse.  Just about everyone in the land of corn has seen his storming and swearing during a game . . . either in person or on television.  Those are not sweet nothings he is uttering to the officials.  So, why the mock surprise?  Again, because Bo hurt everyone’s feelings.

I don’t agree with Bo’s behavior a lot of the time when he goes off on one of his temper tantrums . . . doesn’t quite fit the image that the legendary coach Tom Osborne spent years building for the University of Nebraska football program.  Yeah, Bo can be a little embarrassing . . . and, to be honest, I have been amazed that he hasn’t had a heart attack while ranting and raving on the sidelines . . . the man does get red!  The man reminds me of Bobby Knight when he used to coach the Hoosiers at Indiana in basketball.  At least Bo hasn’t thrown a bench on the field yet.  Yes, Bo loses it at least once a game, acts like a two-year old throwing a tantrum, and it does get old and embarrassing . . . but . . .

. . . who among us has not blown our caps, cursed, stomped, called names, turned red, and bitten the hand that feeds us?  Who among us has not gone off on some profanity-laced tirade when we have been hurt?  Who among us has not lost it and flipped someone off while driving?  Who among us has not lost it, said things that we regretted as soon as they left our lips, and knew that it was wrong?  Who among us has not pulled a “Bo”—of some degree—in all the years of our lives?  Who among us has been super human . . . walks on water . . . and, is, well . . . perfect?  Been without sin?

I’ll wait while you consider your answer . . . but, I might be waiting a long, long time.  The point is, as human beings, we have all blown it at some point in our lives . . . that we will blow it again . . . that we will pull a “Bo”.  We all do it.  Sometimes it is witnessed by those we wish didn’t see it, other times it is in the privacy of our own little world.  But, the bottom line is that we have all acted just as Bo acted.  And, we have been on both sides of it when it happens.  We have been the perpetrator and the victim.  We have done the hurting, and we have been hurt.  Unfortunately, we just don’t want to admit that we are like Bo . . . that we are frail humans that are prone to get frustrated, angry, and blow up.

The incident happened two years ago . . . it didn’t happen after the whooping UCLA put on the Huskers this past Saturday . . . which it very easily could have.  Bo apologized.  He publicly apologized . . . said he was sorry.  The president and athletic director of the university said that he was sincere in his apology.  God . . . I mean, Tom Osborne . . . said that he believed that he was sincere.  Bo said he was sincere . . . and, that he loved Big Red Nation . . . best gig he has ever had.  But the lament is still going on . . . wah, wah, wah, cry a portion of the faithful.  I think it was the third of the stadium that left early in the third quarter. 

It is done, but there are those cry out for justice . . . who cry out for acts of penitence . . . who want to see Bo pay for hurting their feelings.  I don’t know what else the man can do.  He is already paying a heavy price as the coach of Big Red.  I wouldn’t want his job . . . I would be blowing up every ten minutes.  Think about it . . . in is job he has to please several million fans of Big Red Nation who are among the best armchair quarterbacks in the world who question his every move . . . in his job he has to babysit over a hundred young men—ages 18 to 25ish, who think they know everything there is to know . . . plus, remember, they are all males—ever try to a male anything?  He constantly hears that he is not a good coach despite the fact that he has averaged at least nine victories a year since taking over the Cornhuskers . . . only one of six coaches in the nation to do so in that time period.  I wouldn’t want his job . . . would you?

The man apologized . . . it is over.  It is time to move on.  It is time that the faithful of the Big Red Nation start living up to their reputation . . . a reputation that is demonstrated when the fans stand at the end of a game and cheer for the visiting team—win or lose.  It is time that the faithful start living up to what it is that they project as an image of the Cornhusker faithful.  The history of Big Red football is filled with the faithful giving the fallen a second . . . and, even more . . . chance.  Bo stumbled, admitted his mistake, apologized, and now it is time to move on.  There is still a lot of football left to play.  Oh, Bo . . .

. . . I feel for you.  I know what you feel.  I am a minister . . . but more importantly, I am a human being prone to making mistakes.  Even God, a huge Notre Dame fan I am told, understands.  It is tough being the coach of the beloved Huskers . . .