Oh, the profanity.

Most useful button on my keyboard, right there.

Or it would be, if it were connected. Its portability, however, might just come in handy, if I ever again stop after work for a drink, assuming some retarded city councilman gets his wish, or, rather, that his bill passes. Because along with table-dancing and drinking contests (and now what will I do with my weekend?) this proposal would outlaw profane language. In bars. No cussing. In bars! WTF? I knew there was a reason that I don't live there. Or you know, about 47, making that unenforceable quasi-constitutional proposal just the topper, but given that this space and my classroom are the only places where my speech isn't regularly punctuated by some of those infamous seven words plus, that restriction would quite definitely seal the residency deal. Having an English teacher hauled off for her extensive vocabulary? Why, it just wouldn't look right.