Danny Westneat | What the (blank) is going on? | Seattle Times Newspaper
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/dannywestneat/2015175698_danny29.html
Men in blue sometimes talk blue. Nothing new there. What's new is that three cops were suspended for it, without pay, for two to three weeks. This when bedtime stories have the f-bomb in the title, and a Broadway play has a name worse than that.
I am reminded of a story of a minister who, on his way to his church early one Sunday morning, came across a man who was savagely beating a mule -- and cussing a blue streak. The poor mule had set its feet, refusing to budge in spite of everything its tormentor did.
"Why are you beating that poor animal like that?" asked the minster. "And such language!"
"Reverend, I've got to get this [blank] wagon-load of fish to market before it's too high to sell, [blank] it!" the man told him. "And the only [blank]ing language this [blank-blank] mule understands is, well, you know," he said, finally becoming embarassed.
"Here, let me try," said the minister. Going over to the mule, he petted the beast, then intoned: "O ye choirs of heavenly angels! O ye cherubim and seraphim! O ye who are before the throne of the Most High! Lend thy angelic strength to this poor animal so that he may pull this load of fish to market! O ye choirs . . ." -- At which point, with a strong jerk, the mule began trotting fast up the road, so fast that his master had trouble catching up with him.
As the minister, grinning, called out to the other man as he disappeared into the distance, "You see? It's all in the language you use!"
Men in blue sometimes talk blue. Nothing new there. What's new is that three cops were suspended for it, without pay, for two to three weeks. This when bedtime stories have the f-bomb in the title, and a Broadway play has a name worse than that.
I am reminded of a story of a minister who, on his way to his church early one Sunday morning, came across a man who was savagely beating a mule -- and cussing a blue streak. The poor mule had set its feet, refusing to budge in spite of everything its tormentor did.
"Why are you beating that poor animal like that?" asked the minster. "And such language!"
"Reverend, I've got to get this [blank] wagon-load of fish to market before it's too high to sell, [blank] it!" the man told him. "And the only [blank]ing language this [blank-blank] mule understands is, well, you know," he said, finally becoming embarassed.
"Here, let me try," said the minister. Going over to the mule, he petted the beast, then intoned: "O ye choirs of heavenly angels! O ye cherubim and seraphim! O ye who are before the throne of the Most High! Lend thy angelic strength to this poor animal so that he may pull this load of fish to market! O ye choirs . . ." -- At which point, with a strong jerk, the mule began trotting fast up the road, so fast that his master had trouble catching up with him.
As the minister, grinning, called out to the other man as he disappeared into the distance, "You see? It's all in the language you use!"