Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.
Remember back in the 50s and maybe into the 60s when we all said,”Oh, crumb!” when we were surprised, unhappy, caught unprepared, or whatever. Hadn’t thought about that in years. Exclamations like that do tend to come and go, and they change from generation to generation.
I remember getting into all kinds of trouble with my dad when I mentioned a couple in my high school class who were making out all the time. I thought he was going to have a coronary. For me, in the 60s, it just meant they kissed a lot. For him, coming from the 30s and 40s, it meant they were having premarital sex. I guess it pays to be careful about the words we use 🙂 Oh, by the way, sex was NOT universally approved and normal for high school kids back then. Those were good days.
There is a word that seems to have maintained its popularity. When I was a teen, something or someone interesting, enjoyable, up with all the latest, was cool. Nobody was a cool cat any more. That was dated, old-fashioned. But it was fine to use cool as a term of approval. Still is. I hear it from kids and adults alike.
And then there are the words–I guess they’re words–that pop up and then disappear just as quickly. Some of it comes from the rapper genre, some comes from the latest hit movie or TV show. Some comes from gangs, who popularize a lot of things I would not be pleased to hear my kids or grandkids repeating.
The unbelievable overuse of the F-Bomb is a relatively new thing. I mean, of course I know it’s been around for donkey’s years (there’s an old-fashioned expression!) but decent, self-respecting people never used it publicly or anywhere else, for that matter. I was talking with a friend the other day who has a son who has a band. They rehearse in her basement. She told them, after just a few minutes into their first meeting in her home, that they were not to use the F-Bomb. At all. Ever. Or they would not be welcome in her home. No exceptions. If I hear it again, you’re done here.
They were shocked. Appalled. Confused. Lost. How could they sing their “music” without the F-Bomb? How could anyone do that? Weird, man. They even appealed to her husband, but he told them, “Sorry, guys. My basement, my electricity, my rules. Learn new words. Expand your vocabulary.”
The last I heard, they were looking for a new place to rehearse. My friend hopes they find something soon. She’s tired of the screaming and the decibels.
And how on earth did I get all the way from crumb to crude, ugly vulgarity?
I don’t know.