Here are a few

Of the unpleasant’st words

That ever blotted paper.

— Shakespeare
The Merchant of Venice

Julius Caesar said, “Good words are better than bad strokes,” but nothing was said about bad words and good strokes. What really are bad words though? A while ago I was drawn into a discussion about this whole profanity issue, ergo, bad words, bad language and where the whole thing started. I was informed that it was because the slaves, our forefathers, would use certain words that the masters could not understand. These words were then deemed profane, indecent and punishable by whipping.

That changed a bit as time progressed, but you could still be fined the tidy sum of 40 shillings for use of bad words. Hence the term 40-shilling word. If I’m not mistaken that law is still on the books. Well, the law is an ass, it has been said, but the law is still the law and must be upheld until it’s changed. Still I have to wonder what harm a few expletives really do.

We’ll find out more right after these comments about my take on ‘Better at it’.

Tony,

Again, you are spot on with your analyses of women being better at cheating than men. Various factors contribute to this, one being the shame affixed to a woman who cheats, versus the praise given to a man who does. If exposed she is tarred and feathered, or used to be, while the man is praised as a virile Lothario, a Don Juan, a village ram. Society makes her secretive to protect herself, so she better be good at it.

Princess

Teerob,

You got that right. I have cheated on my husband more than once and felt guilt and remorse after. I did it out of frustration and anger, but he never knew what I did. I was very good at covering my tracks.

Angela

One word cannot be both bad and good. For example, ‘My pussy walks across the road with feline grace, until she’s pursued by the giant cock that escaped from the hen house because the farmer was chasing him to chop his head off for dinner. The ass watched malevolently, while the bitch tried to protect her pups from the commotion. Meanwhile the farmer’s wife was reading up on the wrasse.’

Wrasse, it’s English. It’s a tiny fish that feeds on parasites that live in the gills of sharks, but if shouted loudly in Jamaica can have you fined or locked up.

Now, any one off those words describing animals can have you thrown in jail, especially if you put little music behind them. Whatever for? I can’t think of any other country in the world that has these laws. No cop in America can arrest me for telling him what are regarded as dirty curse words. No one curses like American kids anyway. Even US television doesn’t escape, as the language used on
HBO,
Showtime,
Cinemax and other cable stations would make a sailor blush.

Anyone ever heard Chris Rock, Eddie Murphy, the late Richard Pryor, and others, and they reach millions of people. The
Def Comedy Jam of yesteryear was noted for its comedians of colour with words of colour.

I remember the first time that I visited Europe as a young man and the people there discovered that I was Jamaican.

“Hey mon, teach us some of your swear words mon, we want to know them, they sound so cute and ours are so limited.”

Well, I didn’t make joke to tell them bout dem parts to dem face with no fear of admonition. I was an adept tutor and they were eager students. You see, even our bad words are exportable, another potential market there.

But there are prudes in our midst, wrasses swimming with the sharks. I remember years ago there was some hubbub in the press about some minister using the word ‘screw’ in his speech. The controversy went on for weeks until it died the natural death of things ridiculous. But our words are indeed colourful and add emphasis to any conversation. To wit: “So ,describe what happened to your friend.”

“De man lick him wid de board sar.”

“Cho, dat nuh nutten.”

“No sar, de man give him a @#*@#* lick wid de board sar.”

“Den him must be dead den.”

If those words could be used in court, then judges and juries would have clear understandings of what really took place.

“Mr Brown, tell us in your own words what took place.”

“Well, your honour, dis @#*@#* police bwoy say him is @#*@#* bad man and come drape me up before me baby moddar.”

The picture would be clear and dismiss the adage that a picture is worth more than a thousand words. Not our words: Just two strategically placed paint a very clear picture.

Hey, even in the bedroom badwuds have meaning. Never once have I heard a woman moan and say, “Oh, make love to me sweetly, emphatically, whisper poetry in my ears, sing soft melodies to arouse my passions.” Instead, it’s a whole string of purple prose, interspersed with the Lord’s name, streaming from the mouths of whom you’d least expect. Hence the term, ‘Mek Christian cuss.’ When the lights are low and curtains are drawn, you’d be surprised, believe me.

“Oh baby, dweet again, don’t stop to @#*@#*”

My word, what words, and from Miss Tapanaris from upper St Andrew too.

Every Jamaican curses, it’s our nature, although all don’t do it loudly or in public places. But pour a few drinks, start the jokes rolling and hear the words of colour come out to add to the flavour.

Every Jamaican child knows almost all our badwuds, and parents are only fooling themselves if they think otherwise. Notice how your child always says that it’s that ‘other boy’ at school who said a bad word. Yeah, right. Ask your seven-year-old, in confidence, how many bad words he knows and sit back for the ride. You may learn a few from him.

I was at a function recently and couldn’t believe the words coming from this three-year-old. He must be the spawn of Satan, I thought, but to him and his father the words were as natural as mama or dada.

The print media, of course, uses the @#%^&*!%! to describe badwuds. Therefore we are to use our imagination, put in whatever you want to make the text more colourful. I recall years ago when my daughter had her weekly column she was describing some Jamaicans cursing and used the required @#$%&*! Her editor at the time, an equally young lady, replaced those with the real badwuds. Somehow it slipped through the cracks and got printed, leaving my daughter distressed for weeks.

“How could you use such language, and imagine an ‘A’ student in English too,” came the remarks. The young editors’ argument was that it was hypocritical to use those ##$%!$& when everyone knew what they meant anyway. Well, I can happily say that my daughter is now an accomplished author, having written the best seller
Sweetness in the Skin.

Hey, remember the term unprintable. Even on radio people have lost their jobs because of badwuds. No one dared read a news report that stated, “Nut screws washer and bolts.” That story was, of course, describing the theft from a hardware store. But it could also be construed that a mentally deranged person sexually assaulted a day’s worker and fled. It’s all in the interpretation or as you thinketh.

Which brings me to our deejays who parade their skills on stage. They have been doing so for donkey’s years, spewing out the language that they hear every day and in turn regurgitating it to gleeful fans who revel in it. Suddenly they’re told that it’s wrong to do so. Culture shock.

“Say wha, but is so me come see it a gwaan boss, how me fi stop it… even police tell me bout me @#*@#* every day.”

That’s what one told me. Why did it take so long to start implementing these laws. Remember what I said up front, the law may be an ass, but it still has to be obeyed. What I question though, is the law itself.

I don’t use profanity as a rule, but I have in the past, and will drop in a few for emphasis when giving jokes, describing a scene, or on the rare occasion when I lose my cool. If I buck my toe, that doesn’t count, as it’s an involuntary reflex that goes back to my ancestral slavery days. But I know many English words and can choose. Not so many Jamaicans who have a limited vocabulary and have to resort to profanity for emphasis, this includes our deejays.

Sadly their use of profanity leans toward the abuse of women. That’s another thing, almost all of our badwuds abuse or describe women in a negative way. What amazes me is how the women react to this phenomenon in a positive way. Hey, maybe that’s why they were outlawed in the first place.

Is it profanity or purple prose? Hey, I value your opinion on the matter. Yu betta respond to @#*@#*

More time.

seido1yard@gtmail.com

Footnote: Well, yesterday was the final day of shooting of the movie television series
Daughters of the Dance Hall Queen, financed by Jampro, written by Ed Wallace and Sherando Ferill, who are also executive producers, Dayna Wallace production manager and directed by yours truly, with Alex Moore assistant director, and beautifully shot by director of photography Wentworth Kelly.

It was truly an amazing experience working with this all Jamaican crew as we navigated almost a month of filming, including many all night sessions that took us from dusk til dawn. It was exhausting but gratifying work as the crew and actors rose to the occasion and were exemplary in their performances. I have worked on many major productions, here and abroad, but I must say that our Jamaican crew was equal to, if not better than many. We are truly gifted. It’s a proud moment for Jamaican film-making. Look out for it,
Daughters of the Dance Hall Queen.