Obseen today

When I was in early elementary school, someone wrote "F*** you" on the bathroom wall. I didn't know what it meant, so a friend wrote it down on the top corner of a story I had written so I could just ask my mom. I showed it to her, and she screamed in horror and threw the story away. I'll never forget the scream (I've long forgotten the story).

Which is probably why I seriously underreacted to my son's new "What the . . .?" and my niece supplying the missing "h*ll," and to all subsequent utterings of "What the h*ll?!" at my house. Anyway, it's nowhere near as bad as all the "hee-ing" Miss I. still does.

But if you're going to be an a**, you should do it right, because my kid is starting to read and I don't want him to learn bad grammar. That's why I was de-lighted to see the following exchange on a parking garage wall today:

"Your gay."

"It's 'You're gay,' for 'You are gay;' not 'Your' as in 'Your mother's a wh*re.'"

Yep. That grammarian had the right priorities.

But admit it -- even though you knew you couldn't address the bigotry, you wanted to correct the punctuation.