Hey look! I can swear!

I can say "fuck."

That's right, fuck. I can also say shit, damn, twat, pussy, hell, crap, anus, penis, dick, cock, shit - oh, wait, did that one already. I could even use the "C" word, but my wife really hates that one, so I won't, not even here.

For you veteran bloggers, this is no big deal, I know. But for the past 20 years or so, I've been writing a newspaper column, published in myriad weeklies and dailies around the state (Michigan). Before seeing print, my column was reviewed with the utmost scrutiny by editors with an eye toward pleasing advertisers and increasingly elderly readers.

So I couldn't say "fuck." Not in print, at least.

I also couldn't come right out and say that I think Baptists are - for the most part - the largest douchebags ever produced by the process of evolution. That's right, fuckers: E-V-O-L-U-T-I-O-N! Get used to the word, dipshits! Whether you like it or not, your ancestors (and mine, too, probably) were descended from apes. In the case of Baptists, boring apes.

While you're at it, you also can get used to the idea that the world is not flat, masturbation does not cause blindness (I should know), and dancing is okay, unless performed by white men in business suits.

Now, newspaper people being part of the "liberal media," most of my editors over the years have shared my opinion of Baptists. And most of them have frequently, or occasionally at least, used the word "fuck."

But God forbid the "F" word, or detrimental comments regarding any particular religious organization, should ever find their way into the pages of the Sunday edition.

I'm not blaming the editors, mind, or the publishers, advertising reps or comp department; if they want to keep publishing - and they do, because it's easier than getting a real job - then they have to play by the rules. And for mainstream family newspapers struggling to hold onto their ever-diminishing market shares, Rule Number One is: don't piss people off.

But here I am, not trying to sell anything to anyone. Not giving a flying fuck who I piss off. Ahh ... feels good.

As I mentioned earlier, you folks who began your publishing career on-screen rather than on-paper take this freedom for granted, I'm guessing. And that's a good thing. Maybe, eventually, I will too.

But for now it feels so ... fucking GREAT! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Okay, I think I got it out of my system. At least the swearing part. But I am never going to like Baptists!