MELVIN DURAI'S AMUZING LIFE
"WHY THE (BLEEP) DO PEOPLE HAVE TO SWEAR?"

     A Michigan man recently went on trial for violating an 1897 state law against cursing in front of women and children. It's a crime that must have seemed quite shocking in the 19th century when people didn't own televisions and weren't exposed to eloquent entertainers like Chris Rock. Or the average Hollywood movie.

     After falling out of a canoe into a river, Timothy Joseph Boomer, a 25-year-old factory worker, spewed a stream of profanity that apparently could be heard half a mile away, proving he didn't inherit his last name for nothing. He probably comes from a long line of Boomers. And Dad and Mom must be bursting with pride.

     Unfortunately for Boomer, a sheriff's deputy was patrolling the river and wasn't impressed with his vocabulary. He charged Boomer under the ancient and rarely enforced law, which carries a punishment of 90 days in jail or a $100 fine.

     Jail or a fine. As they say in Michigan, one four-letter word deserves another.

     A lot of people, I'm sure, are relieved this isn't a national law, because our jails would soon be as crowded as a reunion party for Elizabeth Taylor and her ex-husbands. And if judges decided to impose fines against swearing, the government would never need to charge income taxes.

     We're a nation of swearers. It's true. I swear.

     It seems unfair to target Boomer when every other person is quick to utter a four-letter word, even without falling out of a canoe. Some are talented enough to attach a coarse adjective to every noun, often showing their mastery of English by using the continuous tense: "If the (bleeping) record stores weren't so (bleeping) demanding, I'd have a (bleeping) job, selling (bleeping) rap music, instead of being (bleeping) unemployed."

     No, sir, with that kind of language, you shouldn't be selling rap music -- you should be composing it.

     As you've probably guessed, I'm not a fan of expletives. I've hardly ever felt the urge to swear, not even when speaking to a telemarketer.

     Perhaps it's because of my upbringing -- my mother wouldn't have just washed out my mouth with soap and water, she would have hung my tongue out to dry.

     Perhaps it's because I attended a conservative Christian college, where swearing could earn you a visit to the dean. And continual swearing could earn you a visit to the chaplain, who would pray for your soul.

     My fellow students learned to express their anger or dismay in friendlier ways. Some would resort to substitute words like "shoot" and "heck." Such terms were often heard around the tennis courts when balls somehow flew over a high fence into the nearby creek. Luckily, there weren't any canoeists around.

     A former opponent of mine would vent his anger by addressing himself: "Curtis! What's wrong with you? Can't you hit a simple forehand?" I had half a mind to report him to the local mental institution.

     But I'd rather have someone address themselves than release a torrent of obscenities. I'd also rather have someone throw a tennis racket, as long as they don't throw it at me.

     So perhaps Boomer should have kicked his canoe or pulled his hair or slapped himself. That would have been fun to watch.

     Of course, he has the right to free speech, as his lawyers contend, but I wish he had exercised that right a few hours later -- in the privacy of his home.