Curses! Swearing! Unexpurgated ejaculations of emotional outrage! All of this is required for speaking, writing and art expression as Ai sanitises us with its en-bland-ishments.
When even the word ‘Swearing’ has been reduced to a cloying infantilism (a swear), you know that language is in severe danger of death by sanitisation. The word ‘swearing’, the act of Swearing is being been taken from us. From adults and adolescents. Reduced from its once proud natural place in the everyday (“she swore!”) it now resembles some aberrant behaviour requiring a thickly barred adult crèche (“he did a swear”). Fullblown, healthy Swearing is now nothing more than an act worth of head-tapping and hair-tousling
The act of swearing is now stripped of its glorious power to explode a room in shards of gasps; to warm, to bring others closer.
“He did a swear”, expresses nothing more than fear of natural acts. Fear of upsetting a market demographic. Fear of physicality: Fuck, Cunts, Twats, Pricks, Balls, Shit, Blood, Turds, Arseholes! Wonderful physical, human stuff!
Of course, you should never swear in front of the ladies else the shock is so profound that their uteri fall out, and they ceased to be able to function as a lady should. That’s how it feels at least. Back to those days.
Back to Victorian bloody table leg covering while the father of the house is catching syphilis from prostitutes. Syphilis that he would pass to his wife. Syphilis that would send them both and their children dangerously insane.
“Miss! Timmy did a swear!”, “Sir! Sir, Charlie wrote some swears on the wall!”, “Janey don’t do a swear, lovely”.
Why on earth has a richly, beautifully human act of expression – not even the fucking words themselves (I will get to them) but the actual Christ-given act – been denatured like this? What does the infantilising censorship hope achieve?
It used to be that curbing one’s language was a signifier of youth in the face of adulthood. You knew you were all growed up when you could say, “This beer’s bloody foul” in front of your father or mother or grandfolks, and all they did was laugh and say, “My but don’t the little twats grow up fast?”.
Then, of course, there is upper-case ‘C’ Class-stratified swearing. This is where or when using a swearing at, or even in the presence of, your betters is a social sin that shakes the foundations of decency. Swearing at you Betters is not on. At least not without the correct context or the explicit assent of the ‘Better’ person.
In the following example, the butler and the Lord are in the same predicament following the sinking of their ocean liner. It is night. It is cold. They are literally in the same boat.
“Cor blimey, it’s fucking cold in this lifeboat, sir, pardon my French.”
“Yes, it is, Jarvis, yes… it is”
“I hope the fucking Royal Navy will be here soon, the lazy cunts!”
“That’s going too far Jarvis! Enough of that.”
Jarvis went too fucking far it seems but let us move-the-shite on. He is back in his box. His power has been clearly delineated based on what language he can and he can’t be allowed to use.
Wouldn’t you just love it for Jarvis to yell from his end of the flimsy lifeboat, surrounded by oil-drenched corpses or the nearly drowned, with the stern of the ocean liner disappearing like the arse of a drunk into the sea. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to hear his rough, working voice intoning and top volume, “Fuck right off your Lordshit!”?
I bet you would.
The rules I’ve outlined are fantastically liberating once you break them. Launching a swearing infused tirade at your father or mother or carer of Manospheric boyfriend for not treating you like an adult is so invigorating that it surely lifts you out of the day-to-day grind.
Fuck, Cunts, Twats, Pricks, Balls, Shit, Blood, Turds, Arseholes! Wonderful physical, human stuff!
However, an across-the-board blandification of expression is being enforced by AI on behalf of its ‘Thought Leaders’ in order to maximise markets. A diminution of language, of our quotidian lexicons is reflected in the flattening of the arts into generic expressions of acceptable emotions too. AI ‘art’, AI music, AI writing, all flat, all expressionless, clean like bathrooms of the insanely germaphobic. In this case the germs are swearwords. Let them fucking well abide, live on, be beautiful!
“AI now saves me hours every week without diluting a single opinion.
But not in the way most people assume…
I use AI to structure my thinking.”
Viva Fuck, Cunts, Twats, Pricks, Balls, Shit, Blood, Turds, Arseholes!
