Who's Cursing on First?
Eli 2.11 waxes philosophical from his seat in the jogger. "Shoot is a nice word," he says.We're on our daily run. Mine, anyway. For Eli, it's the daily lollipop. "Yes," I say. "Shoot is a nice word."
"Shit is not a nice word," he says."
No, that's not a nice word, I say.
"Shoot is a nice word," he says.
"Yes."
"But not shit."
"No."
He's the Abbott to my Costello. Once he starts this dialogue, which he clearly enjoys, all roads lead to--well, I'm not going to say it.
What he doesn't know is that I enjoy it as much as he does. He only curses in the laboratory, in a clinical setting, as he endless analyzes the linguistic possibilities. He posits it as academic research.
His technique is sheer brilliance. The comparative word, the good word, will always be emphasized when spoken. The bad word, though, will never be inflected in any way. It will be entirely ignored as anything out of the ordinary.
Just the facts, man.
"You need to stop saying that word," I say.
"What word?"
"I'm not saying it."
"Shit?"
"Yes."
"Shit is not a nice word," he says.
"I know. And you're not supposed to be saying it."
"I'm just saying that I shouldn't be saying it."
"That's right," I say.
"Because you're not supposed to say shit."
"Which you can stop saying now."
"I'm not saying it. I'm saying that you're not supposed to be saying it."
"And you're not going to be saying it anymore."
"I can say shoot," he says.
"Yes, you can."
"But I can't say--"
"That's right," I say.
"What?"
"Oh no. I'm not going to say it."
"Say what?"
"Nice try."
"I can't say it," he says.
"That's right."
"I can't say shit because it might hurt somebody's feelings."
"And you don't want to hurt somebody's feelings."
"No. So I can't say shit."
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