“Are you going to come along quietly or do I have to use earplugs?”- From “The Goon Show”; There are those few rare saints scattered about the planet who have never cursed. Ever. Not even once. For some I imagine they are constantly tuned in to some heavenly inner radio station, smiling in serene confidence of a better existence than what we mere mortals are doomed to slush through. There are those through sheer willpower finish out a life without ever uttering a single cuss, although the effort of holding in so much bile might make them a serial killer their next lifetime through.

When I was in the 9th grade, my best pal was John Dunkin. His dad was dean of The Master’s College, called L.A. Baptist back then. In all my years of knowing John, I never heard him swear, unless, of course, you consider the phrase, “jock strap”  cursing.

While teen-age boys were freely distributing all manner of verbal graffiti into the ozone, the easily-frustrated John would just utter a “Oh … JOCK!” or disgruntled “STRAP!!”  or when life turned really rotten, “JOCK STRAP, GOSHDARN IT!!”

Even that was followed by an apology.

I seem to recall that the Baptist powers that be eventually caught up with John and he was dutifully stripped of even that small avenue of emotional expulsion. My 9th grade friend died young, several years ago.

Life is so much different today. Public swearing and coarseness is common and it’s not just the words. It’s the anger, the contorted face, the boastful ignorance, the uncaring arrogance of usually the sub-27 unwashed men and women age groups.

I remember several years back, a non-local nearly went to jail for swearing.

A Michiganite, aptly named Timothy Boomer, was arrested for using the English translation of the cartoon speak: “Racka-fracka dirty ¡#*@£!!§¶o!!. mangy coyote.”

The 24-year-old man was arrested at a crowded beach in Traverse City for swearing. A whole heap. Mr. Boomer fell out of a canoe and let loose — no pun intended — a 3-minute stream of invectives that some witnesses said could be heard a quarter mile away.

Racka-fracka mother lug wrench-WRENCH-WRENCH!!!” Ten thousand bathers are silently transfixed as the verbal malady echoes down the beach.

County judge Allen C. Yenior upheld a 102-year-old Michigan law that makes it illegal to use profanity in front of children. After an unscheduled exit from that canoe, Boomer wouldn’t stop swearing, uncaring that a woman and her two small children were just a few feet away, their hair and ears blowing toward Canada from Boomer’s description of his mother’s procreational abilities, spiced with various scatological diatribes. A sheriff’s deputy, like a mime walking against the wind, finally arrested Boomer. Sadly, he didn’t get the full 90 days in jail and a $100 fine, as the 1897 law stipulates.

My own feeling was that it would have been delightfully poetic if Mr. Boomer ended up sharing a holding cell with a 7-foot-tall defrocked Presbyterian minister/militia leader with little bloodshot bee-bees for eyes who just axed everyone at the church picnic and can’t stomach profanity.

“If Mr. Boomer’s words, when used as they were, were constitutionally protected speech, then a person could stand on a crowded public beach and shout those same words all day,” Judge Yenior ruled. “This cannot be what the framers of the Constitution and the First Amendment intended to protect.”

Music to my ears.

I’m no prude. I swear like a trooper every rare once in a while — mostly in the privacy of myself — after hitting a thumb with a hammer or watching anyone remotely involved with Washington on C-SPAN. But swearing in front of people, especially strangers and children? It’s rude. It’s low class. It’s boring and ugly. In its worst forms, it’s naked aggression. I don’t think we need to force a bar of Lava soap into Mr. Boomer’s deep-caverned and calloused mouth. But a nice little metaphorical zen stick tap to the top of his head would be appreciated, even 2,000 miles away.

Alas, Mr. Boomer will be represented by the American Civil Liberties Union, which says the 1897 law under which he is charged is unconstitutional and violates the drunken canoeist’s right to free speech.

I look to the left. I look to the right. I look behind me. Are there any children around?

The ACLU?

I wouldn’t yell it in front of the women and children, or on a crowded beach as this is the sub-zero doldrums of February, but can I offer a low-volumed, “Racka-fracka-racka them and the horse they rode in on”? 

John Boston is the preeminent local writer and humorist who has won over 118 national writing awards. He is a wonderful human being and it is a privilege to call him a friend. John will continue to live in the Santa Clarita Valley and write about anything and everything. His commentaries represent his own opinions and not necessarily the views of any organization he may be affiliated with or those of the West Ranch Beacon.