I was visiting with my aunt Olga Bawdynova in Chelyabinsk, when the meteor hit…
Wow! You should have heard what the Russians said when that happened. It made it obligatory for every literate person to learn how to swear in Russian. As a public service towards that end, I offer this video clip. Enjoy.
Reporting from Washington
Joe Schmutz Jr, Fist Master and President of the APA (American Penis association) today warned Congress, the President, and the American People to halt their efforts to set controls on the use of penises in America. “The right of every man to full use of his penis is guaranteed under the constitution,” he argued. “The penis is as American as apple pie. Any effort to restrain its use is nothing short of treason.” If you want to curb, indiscriminate use of the penis, start with Hollywood or porn on the internet. But hands off my penis!”
Proponents of penis control disputed the assertion. As Emily Castrato, President of “A World free of Penises” noted, “We are not talking about banning penises completely, but putting in place some reasonable restrictions that would provide a line of defense against gang bangs, rapes, and men making unreasonable demands on women—what goes beyond what most people consider reasonable use of the organ.”
“From time immemorial the single shot penis has been traditional. Women have long accepted this as the norm. The semi-automatic penis has no place in the world of relationships. Penises that don’t need reloading aren’t meant for loving or sport. They are specifically designed to do as much damage as possible to the human body. No one really needs or wants an erection that last more than four hours.”
The agenda of the penis control lobby also insists that every penis be registered and careful records kept, arguing how there are certain people, namely felons and those with mental illness, who should not be allowed access to their penis, and should not be allowed to purchase performance enhancing drugs.
The case was cogently set forth by Carolyn Clitoriski, Chairwoman of “Penis Propriety:” “We require people to take three tests to get a driver’s license, so I’m not sure why increased scrutiny for use of one’s penis is so controversial. Don’t we want to keep penises out of the hands of the mentally ill and those with criminal records? Don’t we want a system that makes it as easy as possible for pharmacists to identify these classes of individuals to deny them semi-automatic capability by outlawing or placing curbs on sales of testosterone and drugs such as Viagara?. Pumped up men and penises have no place in this world, said she. Look at what they have brought in their wake.”
This was disputed by Schmutz, who stood at the mike screaming at a recent press conference, brandishing a bouquet of dildos in his fist: “It’s nothing but penis envy. Sissies and women—that’s who are arrayed against us. Remember, we are more than just a bunch of random pricks.. We truly stand for something. We are America’s manhood. Without us there would be no Iraqs, no Afghanistans—no Monday night football. The penis is at the heart of our nation’s greatness. Do not forget that for a moment.
“Taking my penis is the first step to taking away my freedom. Just try! “You can have my penis, but you’ll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands.”
Republicans like to say that “government” is a dirty word. Closer examination, however, reveals that it’s just not the word, but the whole freaking enterprise that’s obscene.
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in our capitol Washington, D.C. that we lay our scene), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty lamps that struggled against the darkness.
It was on that night that legislators surreptitiously crept through the back doors of the Capitol, far from the public eye to engage in — what else? — an orgy of government spending.
In ill-lit corners of the hallowed chamber, legal suits came undone and beltway manners, loosened as members shed their reservations, openly exposed themselves for who they truly were. Acts of naked aggression were commonplace. People of both parties were jumping all over one another. It was not a pretty sight.
For Democrats, the situation was all too inviting — treasury teats, firm, inviting, perky, pebbled, and plentiful, revealed themselves, all ripe for the taking. And take to them they did, passionately sucking on the pulsating orbs of Mother Liberty, whilst encouraging their mooching minions to join in. Tea Party Republicans protested, “Unhand them, Sir!”
A lone Democrat from the Longhorn State stood firm. Slowly but ever-so-methodically he began making his case, only to find the entrance to the silken love-cave, which held the treasured cache, blocked. He would not take no for an answer. Republicans voted “no, no,” but there was yes, yes in their eyes — those languid pools of deep blue splendor in which lovers find hints of encouragement. Our fair warrior pressed our fair nation on, stimulating her economy in slow but firm strokes.
A Republican maiden interjected, protesting his advance, invoking instead the guiding hand of the invisible marketplace. Indignantly, she grabbed his entitlement, flinging it furiously it to the floor. What do you take me for,” she cried out with indignation. “What kind of a girl do you think I am? “
“That is how ordinary people make ends meet,” the Democrat countered, “And you, my dear, are not above it.”
Elsewhere a throbbing (as well as pulsating and quivering) Republican member pressed his case against the nubile young Democrat. “No cover-ups here,” he screamed, ripping her dainty bodice from her trembling body. His hands moved downward, running through her briefs, in a blind search for the nub of the matter.
“Stop right there, you…you… dishonorable member!” she cried out.
“Assume the position,” he demanded, not missing a beat.
“Never,” said she. Their eyes locked. Slowly he advanced on his trembling prey. His lips pursed in anticipation as drops of warm moisture coalesced in the corners of his mouth.
Her torn outer garment at her feet, she stood before him, as her maker had created her. His eyes darted downward, finally alighting upon her surplus. The view was riveting. The gap between empty promises and limited finances stared out — moist and warm, yawning and inviting—beckoning him onward. “‘Tis a void crying to be filled,” he shrieked, “And I am the man to fill it… I will. I will. I can. I can.”
“Abort this mission, now!”” she screamed, her eyes locked on his heat seeking missile, preparing to launch. You are in direct violation of the penal code. Have you no sense of decency, sir?”
Alas, there was no stopping him. Intoxicated by a firm mandate from the previous election, he hammered his point home.
Politics indeed makes for strange bedfellows. In the farthest recesses of the chamber, a tiny minority were busily engaged in a caucus — surreptitiously engaging in unnatural acts which could only be described as “compromising,” reaching across the aisle, taking positions unknown to polite society.
“I’ve never done it this way before,” protested one reluctant participant, his voice trembling with fear and anticipation. “It’s a bipartisan position with which I am not at all comfortable.”
“One has to be flexible in such matters,” his counterpart argued. “There are times when you have to put country ahead of politics, moments when you have to bend over backward to accomplish something.”
“This is simply too weird,” protested another. “The state of the union is a state of traditional values and uni-sexuality — not behavior becoming of animals. And when push turns to shove, we must stand up for those beliefs.”
Amidst it all, there suddenly arose a tsunami of delight, a tidal wave of conciliation, which suddenly swept over all — followed by a giant cosmic sneeze. Seismic tremors shook the capitol to its very foundation; pyrotechnics exploded in midair, painting the evening sky with arrays of streaming, streaking color. Taste buds cracked and popped, filling the air with the fresh scent of French toast and chocolate. It was the moment of reconciliation: the Second Coming.
As fast as it had happened, it was over. Cigarettes lit up the chamber like fireflies at dusk, celebrating their coming out, and slowly, ever so slowly, the evening wound down — a pall of silence fell over the chamber, punctuated only by hushed whimpers and sighs.
The Speaker strode to the podium. It was time to formally bring the session to a close. ‘Twas a solemn moment, calling for great oratory. “This is a time when each of us should reflect upon his God-sworn duty, why we have been called to these hallowed halls. Look deep inside yourselves, not elsewhere, for the answer. Ask not what you can do to your secretaries and your interns, but what you can do to the country.”
A chorus of silent acquiescence nodded in assent. The gavel came down; its dull thud echoing through the chamber.
“This orgy is hereby adjourned.” He declared.
And thus conclude the sexual congress.
Back to the streets, poorly lit by the scanty street lights, its members repaired, once more struggling against the elements — the violent gusts of wind, the rain pelting in their face.
And that’s the way it is.
Have a Happy Bawdy Snake 2013 Years!!!!
Dr. Bawdy’s collection of 2013 snakes is on pinterest – http://pinterest.com/doctorbawdy
A Rhode Island woman is facing charges for allegedly training her pet cockatoo to say curse words at her ex-husband and his girlfriend who live next door.
Lynne Taylor is set to appear in Warwick Municipal Court next week to defend herself against allegations that she violated a city animal noise ordinance by training the bird, Willy, to swear at her neighbors, Kathleen Melker and Craig Fontaine, according to the Boston Herald.
Melker argues that she is continuously called a “Fuckin’ whore” by the bird for up to 16 hours a day. She said the bird’s foul language has forced her and her lover to put their $332,000 home up for sale. We’re done,” Melker said. “We have no quality of life.”
The situation can only be described as “for the birds.” The cockatoo was only doing what birds have always done: engaging in — fowl language. Birds and cursing have always gone together, beginning with the Greco-Roman tradition of putting wings on the image of the phallus. — which also gave us the bird in 19th century England as a synonym for the penis. In Italian, “uccello” continues to have that same meaning.
Variations of flying penises can stil be found everywhere, especially on the crowded highways and byways of America where drivers regularly flip the bird to each other raising their middle finger in tribute to their driving ability.
Surpassing the cockatoo’s abilities is the (Southern or Wood) pecker, best known for its repeated rhythmic thrusts. Any surprise that it has achieved a fair amount of popular usage as a prick?
President Lyndon Johnson had a special fondness for the bird, his credo being “I never trust a man unless I got his pecker in my pocket.” Having possession of something that important and personal could only assure the man’s compliance. Certainly he could not stray very far under such circumstances.
Digressing back to the matter at hand, we are left to wonder in the case of the nattering cockatoo who has whose pecker in his pocket and who’s the real peckerhead here. Could it be the media which has covered the case as extensively as Watergate?
Time perhaps to take wing.
Holy shit! Has this become a country of privilege or what! This business of paying extra for what was once a basic right has gone too far. You go to the ballpark to find that not only is seating arranged according to price but it also varies from game to game based on the attractiveness of the opponent.
Other perks are also available but only to the privileged: luxury boxes, preferential parking, licensed seating, and access to a better and wider selection of food. At SeaWorld, the general admission gets you through the door, and little else. Whether its lunch with Shamu or taking in the attractions which compelled you to make the trek in the first place, everything worth seeing and doing costs extra.
Now you have to pay extra for the right to swear. It used to be that you could curse in a large number of contexts where people were comfortable with colorful language. Alas, there’s been a clampdown in the workplace and even bars and restaurants, and traditional watering-holes, once sympathetic or tolerant of the practice are now off-limits to salty language.
Newspapers are obsessed with being “family friendly.” Radio and TV are similar wastelands, offering little hope to the verbally prurient.
If you’re looking for four letter words, you won’t find them on basic radio or network TV. You instead have to pay extra for them by subscribing to satellite radio or premium cable. Oh #$%*@!!.
And it doesn’t end there. It was recently announced that a German firm called “Schimpf-los” (“swear away,” in German) has decided to join the gold rush. It offers a service which has operators standing by seven days a week for frustrated individuals to jeer, swear, and curse to their heart’s content, using whatever unsavory language they desire.
You can almost guess what’s next—charging a different tariff depending on the radioactive content of the words. It can’t be long before “fuck” and “cunt” carry a premium price; while “ass” and “tits” are a mere pittance. Stay tuned.
Following the lead of a school in England, an Indiana high school is offering lessons in cursing, trying to teach students what not to say by having them write it down first and then talk about it.
Kids were encouraged to say the words aloud and explain to their classmates how they are offensive.
School officials say the unusual lesson is a means of allowing teachers to gain some measure of control over what comes out of their students’ mouths, and they claim it has had some effect when used in the past.
For their valiant efforts, we say, "Bravo!" It may be only a small first step away from potty-mouth, but it's a giant leap forward towards respectability for Bawdy Language, making it only a matter of time before it becomes a formal part of the curriculum — right up there with French, Spanish, German, and Mandarin.
So a tip of the hat to the forward looking and progressive educators of Indianapolis for helping take Bawdy out of the back alleys and the barrooms, raising its decibel level above hushed whispers and elevating it to a position as a proper subject of study. It doesn’t get much bette than that. Truly specfuckintacular!
I just wanted to share this morsel with you: a creative and funny use of the most versatile word in the language. Everyone should give a fuck about this post, especially those with an appetite for such matters.
Make sure, however, that when you get there, you sing for your supper.
Begin with a call to the meal and some healthy veggies: "I been looking for your ass since a quarter past/hot peas and butter, baby come and get your supper/Before I make you suffer." — Keep on Keepin’ On by MC
"My heart is like an artichoke/I eat petals myself one by one/Until I feel enough/Until I lose to laugh/Can you peel my petals one by one?/Your hands are like a rusty knife/Are you gonna keep on peeling me?" — "Artichoke", Cibo Matto
Sample the forbidden fruit: "Movin’ to the country gonna eat a lot of peaches/I’m movin’ to the country/I’m gonna eat me a lot of peaches/I’m movin’ to the country/I‘m gonna eat a lot of peaches/Movin’ to the country/I’m gonna eat a lot of peaches/Peaches come from a can they were put there by a man/In a factory downtown/If I had my little way I’d eat peaches everyday/Sun soakin’ bulges in the shade." — "Peaches", Presidents of the United States of America
Add a spot of tea to wash it all down, with some lemon of course: "Squeeze me, babe, till the juice runs down my leg/Do, squeeze, squeeze me, baby, until the juice runs down my leg/The way you squeeze my lemon/I’m gonna fall right outta bed." — "The Lemon Song", Led Zeppelin
Or better yet a shake: "My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard/And they’re like/It’s better than yours/Damn right it’s better than yours/I can teach you/But I have to charge." — "Milkshake", Kelis
But what’s a meal without one’s just deserts? Start with a request from Nina Simone: "I want a little sugar/in my bowl/I want a little sweetness/down in my soul/." — "I Want A Little Sugar In My Bowl", Nina Simone
Then on to the desserts themselves: "I’ve been out there/Tried a little bit of everything/But it’s all sex without love/I found the real thing is poundcake/Homegrown and down-home, yeah that’s the one/Still cookin’ with that old time, long lost recipe, yeah/Woo!/She’s down-home and down-home/Oh, that’s my woman." — "Pound Cake", Van Halen
It’s all so easy to prepare: "She wanted me to feed her/So I mixed up the batter/And she licked the beater/I scream you scream/We all scream for her/Don’t even try ’cause/You can’t ignore her/She’s my cherry pie ." — "Cherry Pie", Warrant
Next tothe lavish spread itself: "Créme tangerine and Montélimar/A ginger sling with a pineapple heart/A coffee dessert–yes you know it’s good news/But you’ll have to have them all pulled out/After the Savoy truffle/Cool cherry cream, nice apple tart/I feel your taste all the time we’re apart/Coconut fudge really blows down those blues/But you’ll have to have them all pulled out/After the Savoy truffle." — "Savoy Truffle", The Beatles
And top it all with you know what: "Clickin’ by your house about two forty-five/With a sidewalk sundae strawberry surprise/I got a cherry popsicle right on time/A big stick, momma, that’ll blow your mind/’Cause I’m your ice cream man/I’m a one-man band (yeah)/I’m your ice cream man, honey/I’ll be good to you." — "Ice Cream Man", Tom Waits… Bon aperitif, and thanks to the frisky.com for the research.
Congressman Scott Akin has caused a major furor with his recent comments about rape. He and his Republican cohorts have been seeking to educate the public to types of rapes other than those of "forcible nature." Apparently Akin has been carried away on the wings of poesy, somehow confusing rape with "rapture," which happens to be at the roots of the word and which has also carried him off as well.
The Eyeball: "Your lips tell me, 'No-no,' but there's 'Yes, yes' in your eyes".
The Fashion Plate: "Check out your cleavage and underwear or lack of same. What message do your clothes send?"
The Let's Catch a Bite Sometime: "You should have been smart enough to know what this sucker was up to in the first place; if there's anyone to blame, it's you."
The Name of the Game: "Did you actually believe he'd stop at first base? Why didn't you stop him as he rounded second and slid into third. You had to know he had his heart (sic) set on home plate?"
The Gotcha! : "Admit it. You're setting a trap and you're the bait. Well lookee here what you caught, and now you're bitching about it!?"
Hoping to discourage paparazzi from photographing him, shock rocker Marilyn Manson today penned the words "Fuck You" in huge black letters across the bottom half of his face.
Manson was hardly the first celebrity to try this. Back in the 60’s, Abbey Hoffman did it. Before him, the great comedian and social activist Lenny Bruce protested a court appearance on obscenity boldly in the same manner.
For more on the subject, start fucking around with my book. Another option is a short youtube video.
It’s essentially my chapter, “The Big F,” almost word for word as it appears In Bawdy Language and its predecessor, The Erotic Tongue. Alas, the folks who borrowed it didn’t know how to spell etymology. Otherwise, it’s not bad.
You also might want to check out the little known but great documentary on the word. The trailer can be found here:
Those of you given to pirating can also download the entire movie here.…Fuck yes!
Dr. CB
