I Only Have So Many Fucks To Give

I had a pretty silly thought just a few minutes ago. I was chatting with one of my best online friends, Michael Jordan. Not the hall of fame basketball play, but a different fella I’ve met in my travels. He’s an awesome, funny friend. When we talk, we use the word “fuck” a lot.

It’s hilarious because we connected on Twitter when he randomly read my blog I wrote titled, “Why I Love People Who Use the Word Fuck a Lot.” It’s a hell of a read if you’re not automatically against the F-bomb. If you are, well go fuck yourself. HA!

Naw, I’m kidding. I respect people who don’t curse or find naughty words funny. Seems boring, but I’m not gonna judge you. Anyway, MJ stumbled upon this blog about four months ago and we bonded over our favorite word. We chat online daily now and we owe it all to FUCK.

I think a small part of the reason I enjoy cursing so much is that it was so taboo growing up. My father was a pastor as I’ve mentioned many times. Running around and yelling, “Fuck you!” to my younger brother never happened, even one time. Well, at least until we were teenagers and we started running out of fucks to give.

Could you imagine? Starting to run out of fucks when you’re still going through puberty? It’s a damn shame. Luckily, living under the roof of a pastor and his wife who kept us in church three times a week put a damper on the number of miles we put on the Fuckometer. We had to keep the mileage low on our Chevy Fuckerado. You gotta think ahead to resale value, after all.

Anyway, back to this tale. After chatting with Michael Jordan about the daily happenings, his day, my day, his shitty relatives, and the people that drive me nuts regularly, we agreed on one thing: Today was FUCKED.

We’re not sure how long we’re going to be able to take everyone’s fucking shit. We may have to band together and pool our fucks. Perhaps rent a storage unit to keep them in and dole them out like Methadone to heroin addicts. I can’t just keep spending them the way I am. I’ll be bankfuckrupted before I know it.

The state of the world in 2022 is, how do I put this, for lack of a better term? It’s FUCKED. The United States of America is not doing us any favors for making us feel as though we’re tossing around far too many fucks here in September. I feel as though I used my quota for 2022 way back in May. May I use another fuck? “Thank you, Sir! May I have another?”

If Donald Trump were to sadly pass away and quit holding White Power Qanon rallies, I feel as though I could quit blowing through so many fucks. Ditto if white people would quit losing their shit about the new Little Mermaid being black. Or conservative Christians trying to force women to give birth if they don’t want to. Those factors could help me ration the number of fucks I’m dealing out at the blackjack or poker table of life.

Sadly, America is really in the toilet, at least compared to most of the years I’ve been a citizen of this nation. I’ve never seen so much overt racism and bigotry than in the past six or seven years. I blame Donald Trump for this uptick in ignorance. Fuck you, Trump.

Shit, there goes another one. But you have to admit, he really is a motherfucker. Dammit, does that count, too? Thanks, Samuel L. Jackson. I think you established a bar that won’t soon be reached with your performance in Pulp Fiction. That’s truly one of my favorite movies of all time, and the use of a record-setting number of F-bombs likely had a lot to do with it.

I’m almost 48 years old. Let’s assume that somehow my terrible diet doesn’t catch up to me, perhaps I stay active at the gym or this nightly wine consumption thins my blood enough nightly that my heart outlasts my liver. Let’s shoot for the moon and guess that I’m halfway through my 96-year-old life on this planet.

Fucking doubtful, but I like the sound of that. So honestly, I’ve probably already used half or more of my allotted fucks that I’m destined to have in this lifetime. Especially if I only make it to about age 60 or 65. Shit. I better get back to the gym tomorrow.

Because sadly, that’s the only way my fucks allotment will change. The longer I live, the more of these I can dispense. I want to rattle them off as if they were coming out of a Gatling-gun. There are so many valid reasons for overusing the F-Bomb.

As I mentioned previously, the state of our country and the world. That’s one of the bigger causes of my usage of the word. I could write a whole other blog about how messed up our country is. Racism, sexism, bigotry, homophobia, you name it, it’s fucked.

Take the issues and problems we have domestically and magnify them a bunch. Those fucks are reserved for the world stage. Somebody call a translator for me, please. These fucks need to be exported. Someone overnight one to fuckin’ Putin, from me. Thank you.

Ok, enough of that negative stuff. We’re completely neglecting how easy it is to blow your fuck quota for the week on funny, happy situations. That’s one of the selling points about the King of curse words. It can be used in so many ways.

I remember reading Bobby Knight’s biography in high school and he had an explanation about why the word fuck was his favorite. He basically loved it because it could be used as a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, and I’m certain a number of other ways. That part of the book made me laugh.

It’s a funny word. Most of the time, when used in a story somebody is telling, it accentuates it, makes it funnier, and oftentimes is the perfect word to include in a tale. But you need to know your audience when it comes time to decide if it’s one of your fucks you want to give. Some people don’t appreciate it nearly as much as you or I do.

Besides comedic usage, there are times you’re in pain where it really comes in handy. My Bride did her first leg lift this morning in quite a while with our daughter. Mai just now left to take her plate downstairs. As soon as she started going down the stairs:

“Oh fuck. Oh FUUUUUCK!”

You can thank that lactic acid build for the latest installment of Provencio fucks to give. That one literally just happened in the middle of my writing. I feel an acceptance speech is in order.

“I’d like to thank the Academy for this award for Best Supporting Fuckin’ Actor. I have to thank Mai Provencio, Richard Pryor, Robin Williams, Chris Rock, Dave Chappelle, and especially Samuel L. Jackson. I wouldn’t be shit without y’all. Thank you for your inspiration, Motherfuckers.”

Well, that’s a few of the ways I appreciate the word fuck. I don’t want to run out of fucks to give any time soon. Even if I’m headed to the kitchen to make dinner and likely use a few more if I burn myself on the stove or torch the garlic bread, I suppose I should just use them while I have them.

You never know what could happen to cease the use of the granddaddy of all curse words. I could lose my ability to speak from a fuckin’ stroke. A car crash could end my life as I’m yelling the word “FUUUUUUUCK!” That would be my final one. “It’s the finaaaaaaaaaal FUCKDOWN!” *Cue the famous song by Europe.

I realize I should save them for really outrageous situations. When I see news about war, police overreach and murder, serial killers, insane world leaders, or crazy stories about racism, bigotry or egads, the Kardashians, I need to have my ration of fucks readily nearby. I don’t want to get low on them.

Take it from one who knows. From a fellow who uses profanity like an oil painter creates works of art. It’s truly my preferred medium. I love creating works of art by dabbling with my favorite word in the English language. I must rest now, conserve my fucks, and allow you to process this in your own special way.

“DAFUQ?”