From an email from cousin Dale.
To the layman, it may seem that swearing is uncalled for, however anyone who has worked with metal realizes that swearing is necessary. Swearing is an effective lubricant that seems to make bound parts free up. It also imbues metal with extraordinary malleable properties that allow the swearer to bend stretch and flex metal in ways that the non-swearer could never hope to attain. Remember though, swearing is like heavy lifting. You donít want to just start out with full force. I would recommend starting gently. Under your breath is the best way to start. Sometimes that is enough to free up a stuck tap. Once you have a feel for the problem, you may begin to exhort more freely, calling into question the offending partís lineage and ultimately calling down the wrath of the Almighty. Should this not work, I recommend threading and weaving your profanity into a rich tapestry with which to wrap the part. Done over a prolonged period it will have some effect Ö not always on the part though.
"Rippin' strippin' dang-fang zarg barg a ding-dong !!"
Repeat as needed, in any order. This string can be muttered or hollered in the presence of small children or tender ladies without necessarily offending their sensibilities.
Disclaimer: it really doesn't work quite as well as authentic profanity or vulgarisms.
A good friend of mine just passed away, 55.My age. He was at one time a welding and fabricating foreman at Advance Mixer, builders of front discharge cement mixers.
The company was bought our. And edict was issued from highest powers that management people could not swear on the shop floor. There was even a list of naughty words. My friend approached me,knowing that I had to tone the brewery vernacular down when I got a sales job. So, we developed a list of words and phrases that would still emphasize frustration, anger, confusion, etc. Even more important, was getting that satisfying feeling in the throat that hurling a 'you stupid m##### f@@@@@*!!across the shop floor would give. Flaming sons of buzzards. Slinking Coyotes, Confounded sons of biscuits.To his mother's great disgust, he had adopted a unit of measure that I still use. This was modified to 'just a frog hair '
I like that a lot, Jim ! Was there still a difference between a "red frog hair" and the regular kind ?
One thing about cussin' - it doesn't matter to your dog or your pony what words you use, it's the TONE that makes 'em snap to attention !
I remember a sign in the boys locker room in junior high school. It has stayed in my mind since. It read; "Profanity is a sign of weakness".
Having spent time in both blue-collar and white collar careers, I was exposed to all manner of disappointments and challenges from shop floor to the governing board. And while you should speak the language of your peers, I don't recall ever succumbing to the weakness.
That's not to say I don't know the words or have thought the words but I do my best not to have them pass my lips in frustration; even when alone. I found that it usually doesn't fix anything but perhaps gives the mind time to reevaluate a solution to a problem. Stepping back and taking a deep breath can serve the same purpose.
As one who has poured thousand's of yards of cement i can only say wonderful things about the builders of front discharge cement mixers!!!!!!!!!!As for swearing i learned in the us army,i have forgotten and now remain silent.Bud in Wheeler,Mi.
Stephen, I admire guys who can keep a civil tongue in their heads. In many ways, cussin' IS a sign of weakness, but sometimes it's not a bad thing to let off a bit of steam.
Personally, I hold by what my daddy told me when I was a lad, "Son, don't swear. It sounds like hell and doesn't do a damn bit of good."
I have to work alone,at least most of the time. I build "helpers to help me do difficult jobs.Even then I sometimes (frequently) bite off more than I and the heat wrench can handle. At those,most frustrating times,I find "Lord,I 'm going to need some help with this one" ,works the best.
"Oh Lord, allow me to recall my knowledge and grant me the craftsmanship to complete this task without incident." is a frequent favorite of mine.
I would rather have the Gunny set me straight with obligatory colorful language
than have some mealy-mouthed worm politely talk in circles.
What I want is personal integrity. Don't care what language a person uses.
Was it Honest Abe who said [When thought a fool it is better to remain silent than speak up and remove all doubt.]
As Grandma said (after I cut my finger on roofing tin) "The only reason people cuss is that their vocabulary isn't large enough to express their views in any other meaningful way"
As a kid I had much fun with the creative ways of cursing without foul language that were written for Captain Haddock by Herge and his translators in the Tintin comic albums: http://www.tintinologist.org/guides/lists/curses.html
Another favorite is the absurd French taunting from Monty Python and the Holy Grail.. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8yjNbcKkNY
Bi-lingual swearing is very effective ...will help to confuse the opposition and catch the object off guard ...always an optimist..gene french
Old Arthur (arthritis) for those that dont get it,
adds to the equation when crawling, stretching, and acquiring pinched fingers when working on a Model T!
W.C. Fields was always a master of almost swearing...."Mother of Pearl" he'd exclaim, or "Godfrey Daniels"...
My grandfather, whom I never knew, emigrated to this country from France. Upon arriving he vowed never to speak his native tongue again. My father and uncle confirmed that he had kept his vow, and that French was never spoken in the home.
When I was nine or ten, my father purchased a very old and decrepit Caterpillar tractor to use on our small farm. As a small boy I was intrigued by this machine so was my father's constant companion during it's refurbishment. During one phase, replacement of rod bearings I think, my father began "communicating" to this Iron demon in the most colorful language I had ever heard... and it was not English! A few years after my father's passing I happened to mention this episode to my uncle, who burst out laughing then explained that somehow my father had learned my grandfather's "words of persuasion". Pardon my French!
In a group this large, people will vary from crudes to prudes. Some would cuss out the pope just to see the reaction and others won't use the word "Hell" even in its correct context. Most of us are probably in the middle. We cuss, but know we shouldn't.
Swearing is like smoking. You have to learn to do it but quitting is very difficult.
I grew up in a family which did not swear, but when I got into my teens, I wanted to talk like the others and began to swear and use dirty language. Later I became a Christian and wanted to stop swearing. It was harder to stop than to start.
We know we shouldn't ???
Why not ? I'll take a colorful character/speaker any day over the bound-down colorless boring dolt !
There IS a difference between someone who is just rude and crude and a colorful character.
I once knew a man of British decent, born in India during the colonial days. He was the stand-tall
shining example of Mr. Clean. Never cussed, spoke with incredible eloquence, but was all-around a
colorful character BECAUSE of his language, comportment, and character. But examples of this are
few and far between, as the usual forces that bind a person to restricted verbiage also bind them to
being utterly dull. This guy was 99 years old, traveled the world for 50 of those years, was humble yet
incredibly experienced in his humble movement through life.
Most of the people I want to spend my time around are straight shooting somb!tches who tell it like
it is and don't mix words in letting you know how they feel about things. I ma never left wondering how
I should "take" what they just said. I have better things to do than try to read the minds of people "too
polite" to just say what they think.
Amen Burger you mother father cocker spaniel
My sweet little southern Grandmother never saw the need to swear. But heaven help you if she prefaced a sentence with "Why, bless your little heart....".
My grandmother was Italian (immigrated in 1907 at age 5). She'd say the same thing as you grandmother and, "heaven help you" doesn't cover it. I guess some things are universal.
I live in the South where you can say anything you want to about somebody as long as you remember to bless their heart.
Yes, Robert, you stirred up a memory that I must verbalize or it will wear a groove in my brain.
I owned a business in Wabash Indiana,at one time. Many, very good, I emphasize, people living there had been recruited from Eastern Kentucky to work in the various industries there.
I would be somewhere sopping up the suds and hear women discussing their friends --those not present, naturally --in graphic and highly derisive terms. I mentioned this to one of them. How could you call your friends sluts, and worse?? She looked at me like I had three heads and said, 'well, we blessed their hearts'.
My mother claims my first sentence was "Godam sonabich" I said it as I was pulling a wagon across the yard. through my young life, I was fluent in blasphemy and vulgarity and as a young adult I was well known for my use of inappropriate language. Shortly after I got married, I was thrown out of a bar for using inappropriate language, as I was playing a video game, I lost and uttered the fateful words and the bartender had never heard me talk like that and he told me "if you are going to use language like that you can get the hell out of my bar!" The offending language language was "oh bother!" The reason for the change in language was because a few years before, I was in a field working on a machine, and things were not going well. I used my full vocabulary on it. As I was catching my breath for another salvo, I looked up and saw my neighbors out in their field working with all their kids. The are church going folk, and I realized that they did not to hear such language. At that point, I took an assessment of how my day was going. I measured a good day by one that nothing went wrong and I realized I was having very few good days. I decided to change my definition of a good day to one that if something went wrong and I could fix it, it was still a good day. I found that nearly every day was a good day, and some were exceptional. I made a concerted effort to change my language and found that it was very easy. I did not use substitute words as they do not do anything to change one's perception of the world, I changed my world from one that caused me to cuss to one that was a pleasant place to be. It still is a great place to be, although I can not claim that I have never used foul language since.
Gustaf, that's wisdom !
Redefining a good day, or more pointedly, what constitutes a real problem, as
opposed to simple annoyances, is true wisdom indeed. 3 years in Afghanistan
helped me seal the deal on what and what is not worth getting my knickers in a
knot over, and thusly, language is dealt out accordingly.
Yesterday I had a back ordered range delivered to a job. I get paid when the
job is done, and appliances are the last thing to go in. This straggler range has
been holding up closure for 2 weeks. Guess what .... it arrived with a big dent
in the control panel ! THEN I learn it is a closeout model, and questionable if it
can be directly replaced. More delays.
I have always enjoyed watching others who have a knack for communicating -
this includes Drill Instructor beratement and colorful language, but it also goes
all the way down to the quiet understatement of a Sergeant Major whose quiet
tone and choice of words let's all ears know this is an acute moment of important
listening and comprehension, and life will not go well if his words are not heeded.
While I did not really lean into the appliance delivery guys, I did make it clear
that much disappointment was at hand, and that I expected them to do whatever
follow-through was in their scope of influence. And that was that.
Where it all came to flower was a few hours later when the mail came and my
overdue box of new cheques had not arrived. A call was made with the usual
on-hold bad music and pressing of numbers to speak with a representative, and
when I finally got a live person on the other end, was told that the cheques I had
so carefully gone over the details of with another representative were never ordered
and that I was at least another two weeks out. This was not going to do.
I am the kind of guy that hates surprises, and ordering cheques LONG before
I need them is in keeping with that kind of thinking ahead that I strive to do to
avoid crisis and "surprises". This bomb blew up in my face and was a perfect
time to uncork the Gunny for a strong run of nuclear-hot verbiage to convey my
displeasure at someone else's failure to do their job.
Instead, I quietly relayed my deep internal sadness and told the woman the back-
story and told her I needed sequenced cheques right now, that did not overlap the
sequencing of my inbound order that was now being sent out a month after being
let to idle.
She got right with the program, put me on hold for another minute or two of
delightful listening, and returned to tell me she spoke with her XO and they would
unf#@k the mess they had made, properly sequence my cheques with some they
have waiting for me at my nearby branch, AND that this was going to be done on
Some times a hail of harsh words at high volume is the right tool for the job. Other
times, the velvet hammer works just as well.
When my daughter was four years old , she ran across Grandma's new marble floor. She fell and sliced her knee open and blood streamed down her leg. She stood up, wiped away the blood (no tears) and said "Damnit!"
Grandma scolded her, and Daughter said "Well, that's what daddy says".
Burger, this is indeed the way to look at life in general. I am over a year into fixing some health issues. One of which just about did me in. This really puts things into perspective.
I grew up on a farm. My father had other irons in the fire, but this is a cattle story.
We raised beef cattle, a good percentage of it sold as 'freezer beef'direct to the consumer. The home place was an 80,the 'other farm'was a 140.Five miles away.
This occurred in the late 70's Late one afternoon, well after chores had been done on both farms, mom approached us at a good clip.When she was up close we were informed that a call from one of the neighbors of the other farm bore the news that the cattle were out. We three kept into the '71 F350 crew cab, dad driving, mom in back. She was filling us in with the details that a boat trailer had come loose from someones vehicle and went through the fence.
By now we were westbound on Old US 30,the 390 in the pickup a roarin',my father and I discussing in graphic terms the ancestry and other details of the as yet unknown damager of the fence. About the same time as we hit a helluva bump sending mom up about hitting her head on the roof she blurted out --"ALL RIGHT, YOU TWO CHARACTERS!!I'VE HAD JUST ABOUT ENOUGH IF THIS GOD DAMNED FOUL LANGUAGE!!
Burger's approach to getting things done when dealing with other people is the only way to go.
You know, going in, those people at the other end have probably not had great days either but when they speak with someone who's not going to ream them a new one things invariably go better.
That said when I'm ALONE and things aren't going well all bets are off........ (*&^%@$%^*((*&^%#$%^%%^&*(