My vanishing vocabulary

I hate AI, but I asked it to crap out this image anyway.

If there were an app that tracked my personal use of the F-word (and there may be; I haven’t checked) it would doubtless show a dramatic increase over the past 10 years.

Every day I look at the news and “fuck” is the first word that comes to mind. Often the second and third words too. Feels like I’m approaching singularity: One day, every word that comes out of my mouth will  be some permutation of what used to be the mother of all profanities. When that day comes, I will convey meaning only by subtle variations of volume and tone. 

Fuck. I’ve always been proud of my vocabulary, and now it too is going, along with strength, agility, and the ability to instantly identify film stars appearing in other roles.  

I blame Trump, of course. And popular culture, which has embraced profanity even more enthusiastically than I. Dialog on streaming services is now about 38 percent “fuck” and “fuck”-related. I know it makes a writer’s job easier, but … fuck. I kind of miss the days before HBO.

Remember the Disney movie “That Darn Cat!”? The inevitable reboot will be titled “That Fuckin’ Cat!” Because that’s how we imply authenticity. 

Sorry. Getting all Andy Rooney now. I’ve written about this before. I bring it up again because I keep thinking that extreme profanity should be reserved for extreme circumstances – hitting your thumb with a hammer, say, or surviving a near-drowning. I’m trying to be better. But it’s really fucking hard.