I fucking hate FRACK!

I’ll say it. I fucking hate frack!

It’s an incredibly lame answer to swearing. (Yes, it is. You know, in your heart of hearts, it’s true. You want to feel like your favorite shows are getting away with something, that they’re being edgy, but really, they’re not. They’re conforming, for virtually no reason).

No one is making you swear in your books. You are in complete control. If you’re offended by swearing, then don’t swear. Super simple.

I have nothing against swearing at all. I do have some major problems with pussy-footing around being offended–especially when your answer is to sub in another word that has NO OTHER MEANING THAN THE SWEAR WORD IT IS REPLACING!

The Frack Police. The fracking Frack Police.

When they say F R A C K I N G on BSG, they aren’t not swearing. They’re fucking swearing!

Words have meaning. When you replace one word for another, yet instill it with the exact same meaning of the original word — IT’S THE SAME FUCKING WORD!

Why I find ‘FRACK’ so egregious is in the argument between ‘crap’ and ‘shit’ people point out that, “Yeah, well, they may mean the same thing, have 4 letters, and are seen as cuss words, it is the phonetics — the soft shh and hard t that make all the difference.” And yes, that’s the bullshit reasoning you get from the MPAA, the FCC, and any other “defenders against obscene language,” as to why I could say something as vile as, “Your mother is a gaping hole begging every diseased sausage for a fill,” but that is somehow less offensive and obscene than, “Shit.” The rules of obscenity are totally and completely arbitrary.

Frack has the same soft sound. And the same hard kah sound as FUCK.

It’s existence is simply because they couldn’t say FUCK on TV, so it is a direct replacement for FUCK. It has no other contextual function than to be FUCK without being FUCK. (What a way to be a rebel).

So, seriously, fuck it!

Cut the frack and just fucking say fuck!

My Books

About J.E. Mac

J.E. Mac worked as a screenwriter in Los Angeles. Now, he bludgeons his soul onto the page and sells it off pennies at a time.

Growing up in Southern California, people often asked him where he was from. Uh, Southern California. His answer was met with a look of disappointment. “Oh…” Apparently, no one is from Southern California.

In light of that response, he wanted to concoct a biography about how he was a lonesome hermit living in the wilderness of Alaska. His only company was a stiff glass of whisky, his hunting dog Conan, and a great white bear that was stalking him. (That’s not a metaphor. Polar bears, man! Polar bears!) He also wanted to say he was a New York Times Bestselling author. But that’s a pipe dream. Besides, he wanted to be himself.

At a young age he toured the world sailing. (Didn’t you just say you aren’t going to make up stories?) No, this is true. He grew up sailing out of Newport Harbor. His high school was Newport Harbor High School (You probably know it better as, “Hey! That’s the school from The OC”). He competitively sailed and traveled to London and New Zealand.So far, he has had an eclectic career.

From inking comics for DC, to boom operating on Felicia Day’s The Guild, to climbing masts of sailboats to install new rigging, it’s obvious there’s little he says, “No,” to.

You can contact him @:

Facebook: fbl.me/jemac
Twitter: @J_E_Mac

“We can talk about books, video games, comics, you name it. I probably enjoy it.”

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