My Continuing South'ren Education...
I've just recently learned that while I might be a no-good carpetbagger, I still can perform a useful function in modern Southern Society; as class clown. In the last three weeks, I have attended two parties in which I became a minor celebrity because of my Yankee talent to do one thing better than any southerner could, which is to curse up a storm.

For some reason, foul language amuses some of these folks. By and large, many get offended, rightfully, when such colorful words erupt in an uninterrupted stream, but a great many roll on the floor holding their sides when I let loose with profanity. Biological and scattalogical terms seem to get the biggest laughs.

What's worse is that I willingly obliged. I could blame the beer, but I won't.

That most hated sound in all the world, the Yankee accent, becomes acceptable if there's some form of profanity involved. People are litterally amazed at the colorful way in which New Yorkers can string together a stream of foul words for as long as 60 seconds at a time. The most intriguing aspect of all of this though, to them, was my use of the F-word. I was complimented several times, asked for lessons on how to use the word properly and even had a lady or two tell me I had the sexiest way of saying it. I admit, it was an ego stroke.

Utilizing that word as every part of speech and occasionally as punctuation, is a skill that astounds. I have to say that I now feel stupid for having done it (not once, but twice) and should have known better than to draw that kind of attention to myself. I had been making a conscious effort to clean up my language for a long time now, and this might have set me back.

Human nature, as always, continues to amaze.