I mean no disrespect to the devout; I simply wish to underscore, as I look both introspectively and retrospectively, how vital it has been for me to release a certain amount of pressure from my cooker from time to time. So, on occasion when vexed, exasperated or irked, or even excited, I have been known to shout—and I don't think I am alone here—the names of whom believers call The Father and The Son and including The Son's parents.
This characteristic of quoting names from the Bible must be genetic as I clearly remember my mother, when she was very frustrated, shouting, "Jehoshaphat!"
My favorite expletive, though—and the one I seem to opt for most frequently—may not exist in the gilt, leather-bound pages of Scripture. This profanity happens to be the oft-despised, yet renown, F-bomb. There's nothing quite like the word for it can be used with such nuance so as to suit seemingly limitless application! I must not fail to mention how mellifluous it sounds—though my adored mother-in-law would beg to differ—whether whispered or mumbled, drawn out, sharply punctuated, screamed excitedly or very plainly stated.
And though I try as I might to refrain from dropping this bomb excessively, whether due to enthusiasm or exasperation, it is my preferred mode of expression over kicking cabinet doors or throwing a shoe. In any case, and lucky for me, if my beloveds are around they usually just laugh.
The Book of Mark in the Christian New Testament has Jesus invoke the opening of the 22nd Psalm as he is dying on the cross. "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" I think his actual words were probably a lot closer to the ones you use...something like: "God dammit! This hurts like hell! Why the f__k have you done this to me!? " Without naming our anguish with f-bombs and the like, it's a lot harder to find thanksgivings, as you do in your next post.
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