Several years back, maybe twenty or so local ol' Jarheads got together on 10 November to celebrate Marine Corps Birthday. I've posted on those here and here. Read the second 'here' and weep. I just did. But I digress.
We gathered at a local restaurant attached by an open connecting door to a reasonably rowdy saloon full of folks there to party. They didn't have a clue what we were up to if they even knew we were there. All of us, and our wives or S.O.s, were nicely dressed and pretty much on our best behavior.
During cocktails and before dinner was the unstructured fun part. Reminiscing, schmoozing,
One fellow in particular did just that. He wasn't part of our party, just a Marine from out of town who had been in the saloon, noticed what was going on, and came in to visit. Naturally we welcomed him with open arms. He got up to speak.
Did I mention that this clown had been in the saloon? I think the word 'snootful' is apropos. He started talking about his heroic Marine Corps career as we all do from time to time. Well, this guy was using the saltiest language I have ever had the misfortune to hear in mixed company where the 'mix' wasn't Sailors. I mean 'fuckin' this' and 'fuckin' that' is bad enough in a crowd of folks you don't know, but 'syllable-fuckin'-syllable-fuckin'-syllable' was taking it a little too far, and the guy's blathering wasn't making much sense anyway.
The gals in this crowd weren't exactly virgins when it came to cussin', but that wasn't the point. I could see the looks on the faces of the guys, and they weren't exactly happy to see anyone, Marine or no, talking this way in front of their ladies. Something was going to happen, and something needed to be done right quick to shut this guy up peaceably.
Right then, in a rare flash of inspiration, I remembered a line I had read somewhere* and paraphrased it. I just broke in on the guy, in a 'drill field whisper' i.e. loudly and with vigor, with "Hey, dude! Watch yer language! There's Air Wing guys here!"
The whole crowd broke up laughing. The guy realized what he had done, broke into a shit-eatin' embarrassed grin, apologized, and left. Humor had defused the situation. I was kinda proud of myself I must admit, and several of the folks complimented me on the way I handled that as well.
End of story? Not fuckin' hardly. It was a memorable evening.
A nice dinner came and went and then we got down to the ritual and remembrance part of the evening. About this time, which is the serious part of the evening's festivities to Marines, the entertainment in the bar next door started up. A rock band. A really LOUD rock band. This was seriously fuckin' with the emcee's ability to be heard, not to mention breaking our reverent mood.
Me again: "Hey, Colonel, you want I should shut them guys up?"
The Colonel was a local and we knew each other pretty well. He smiled and nodded.
I went to the stage and politely waited until the band finished their number. I asked the front man if he would mind taking a little break and explained why. He looked at me like he was about to tell me to go get fucked. I came up with this jewel:
"Buddy, there's twenty half-drunk Marines in there, and about half of 'em are Highway Patrolmen and county sheriff's deputies." I wasn't lying. "I saw the van you guys came in. You want a few of 'em to go have a look at it?"
The guy stepped to the microphone and announced that there were a bunch of Marines who needed a few minutes' silence and they were going to take a short break. Have a drink. We'll be right back.
I went back in the restaurant and grinned at everybody. They grinned back, some of them in amazement. I couldn't believe I had pulled that one off either, but I didn't let on. Let 'em think I do that shit all the time as a matter of course.
A few minutes later, I looked over and saw a whole shitpot full of bar patrons standing in the wide doorway, watching as we concluded the solemn part of the ceremony. Some of them applauded after we sang the line "We are proud to claim the title of United States Marine".
The rest of the Birthday Ball went without a hitch.
Since we can't see into each other's minds, language is all we have to let others know what we think, mean, or want, short of grabbin' folks by the stackin' swivel, which is useful but not to be applied indiscriminately. Cuss words are used as adjectives for the less linguistically fleet of mind of us to describe the indescribable. They are used as nouns, verbs, gerunds, commas, exclamation points, every part of grammar or punctuation. They are used for breathing space, or just to let off steam. They are damn sure used for shock value to make the straights cringe.
They can very easily get you into a position where you can kick someone's ass that really needs it, or get your own ass kicked. If you can get someone so angry that they call you a dirty name, say, 'motherfucker' or 'traitor', them's fightin' words, and you can deck 'em without much fear of arrest or prosecution. Trust me, I know. "I'm not going to arrest him. You shouldn't have called him that. What did you expect him to do?"
There are folks, and it's absolutely beautiful to hear someone who knows how to do it unless and maybe even if you're the object, who can cuss up one side and down the other for ten minutes without repeating themselves and never use a swear word.
Time and place, and desired effect.
Boy, this was a long ramble. I'll close with part three of our Birthday Ball that year.
The guy who owned the restaurant was a Marine that had done his whole four-year hitch walkin' post in Adak, Alaska. He was a mite strange because of it, but a really good guy. His restaurant normally wasn't open for breakfast, but the next morning he opened up just for any of us who cared to show up, and served bacon, eggs, and all the SOS you could eat. SOS is a peculiarly universal substance in military chow halls, and has probably generated a few swear words all by itself. I love the stuff.
I showed up dressed for the occasion, wearing a pisscutter and my Marine Corps overcoat. Naturally, I rolled up my pantlegs and flang the coat wide open once in a while so it would appear to anyone behind me that...
Thanks for lettin' me bore ya. Later.
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