February 21, 2005

I couldn’t sleep last night, what with Susan Estrich’s latest display of stupidity occupying my mind, and so I went out for an early -- 4:00 a.m. -- breakfast at a 24-hour diner on Chestnut Street. (Insomnia or not, sometimes it’s nice to eat a few slices of bacon without a canine audience, if you know what I mean.)

Anyway, and there will be no dialogue in this installment of the “Overheard” series, what was overheard, from a rowdy table of six, can be summed up in just one word: profanity.

Call me old-fashioned, call me a prude, call me anything you want, but I am made extremely unfortable by the gratuitous use of profanity, particularly in public. I cringe when friends and colleagues allow even one word to slip while in the company or proximity of strangers, especially elderly women.

I also despise the widespread and thoughtless employment of profanities, vulgarities, oaths, and coarse language generally on weblogs, including some I like a great deal.

It’s really so unnecessary, don’t you think?


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