This week in Winona a fellow was given a ticket for cursing in public, and you're probably thinking: about *$(%#$ time. The miscreant had already earned a ticket for underage drinking, and sensibly responded by hollering naughty words at the officers. Perhaps he thought they would sense his outrage and rescind the ticket. We're sorry you feel so strongly about this, sir. We had no idea. I'll take that ticket back, if it's OK with you.
The Winona no-cussing law dates to 1887, and probably was intended to keep men from saying "damn thee" to a horse. Unconstitutional today, perhaps. We're used to it. The inability of some people to refrain from ornate declamations of the effenheimer in public is one of those common coarse facts of life to which we're all wearily resigned.
At the beach a few weeks ago a fellow walked back and forth, yelling into his cell phone, repeating the same refrain: He warned the other person not to BEEP with him, and then he stated his opinion that he was, indeed, being BEEPED with. Everyone pretended he wasn't there. Well, I shot him hot scowls, but he probably thought I shared his anger. BEEP yeah, man.
Here's the thing: The beach was full of kids. Of course many knew the word; there's always some kid in the class who knows the bad words before everyone else, and spreads them like a flu virus. (Which is why I teach my child to curse into the crook of her arm.) Barking like a sailor who just got his foot caught in the rope and is being dragged across the deck is one thing, if you're on a ship and in that situation, but at the beach around the happy kids?
There oughta be a law. We fine people for not picking up after their dogs, after all. The dog probably thinks it's a matter of personal expression, too.
jlileks@startribune.com • 612-673-7858 • More daily at www.startribune.com/buzz
