Coming October 2022: "The Last Folk Hero: The Life and Myth of Bo Jackson"


I curse.

I’m not ashamed to say so. I enjoy cursing. I love the emphasis a good ol’ “motherfucker” places on a statement. I think “fuck you” can be powerful and impactful. “Shit” is barely a curse these days, but it feels pretty good when you’ve just banged my thumb with a hammer. And, at the head of the line, there’s my beloved “douchebag,” which—for me—is the greatest adjective known to man.

I know … I know—technically “douchebag” is not a curse. But it certainly outpaces “shit” on the insult meter. I probably haven’t gone more than two days without referring to someone as a “douchebag”—and, in the case of Will Clark, it’s been used, oh, 850 times. It just packs a punch other words lack.

“That guy …”

Which guy?

“That guy … the guy over there …”


“He’s a fucking douchebag.”

Oh, I got it.

Back when I was a kid, growing up on the mean streets of Mahopac, N.Y., my pal Mattie Walker used to have (literally) his mouth washed out with soap when he cursed. I always found this to be quite curious, because why would you want your child cursing less? To me, a mastery of the English language—the entire English language—is something to be encouraged. So while I didn’t curse regularly throughout my boyhood, my folks allowed and understood the need for an occasional “fuck!” or “shit!”

Besides, my dad, when he was working on the car in the garage, sorta taught me much of what I know.  🙂