I've never been one to cuss much.  Oh sure, I've uttered the occasional cuss word under my breath, and I practiced stringing the words together as a kid in a back pew.  But saying the words out loud in the course of regular conversation has been pretty rare.  I've tended to save the bad words for the occasions that called for them.  And even then, I've used them sparingly.

Not that I have anything against cussing.  I'm not like my mom who, as I remember it, cussed only once in her life and immediately started crying when she realized she had said the word out loud.  I can only assume that she had made some pact with herself never to cuss in front of her daughters and was utterly appalled at her lack of self control.  And, indeed, I remember being shocked--even though it wasn't the worst word and was totally appropriate for the circumstances.  Who wouldn't cuss during a family driving vacation, in a hot un-airconditioned Chevy, with whiny kids, and a "No Vacancy" sign at every roadside motel we drove by?

But even with my tolerance for potty mouths, there was one word that always bothered me.  The terrible F word. There was just something about that word that separated it from all the others.  It was harsh--nasty sounding--shocking--head turning--hardly ever appropriate. 

And yet, oh so satisfying on those occasions when the D word or the S word or the H word or the GD word just didn't quite do it.  When nothing else opened that relief valve for the frustration, or anger, or disappointment you felt.  You could bite down on your lower lip and the F word was always there.  Ready.  With a versatility that fit every situation.  Need a verb?  There it was.  Adjective?  Got you covered. Noun?  You betcha.  And it almost always helped.

I've never completely understood what it is about the word.  It is, after all, just letters.  Not all that different from innocuous words like luck or duck, or suck. Well, maybe not suck.  But otherwise, it looks just like one of the string of -uck words that you'd find in a rhyming dictionary.  Yet, make the first letter an F and, instead of poetry, you get shock and awe.

Or at least you use to.  Lately I've noticed that the F word has gotten common.  Almost a part of everyday language.  I hear it on the street, in airplanes, at Thanksgiving dinners.  And I hardly ever gasp.  Even though I'm 60, and a grandmother, with an AARP card in my wallet and a tendency to avoid night driving. Shoot, I've even been known to utter the word myself at such mundane moments as dribbling coffee down the front of my shirt or forgetting to pay the cable bill on the final night of Dancing with the Stars.

Sure, the word may still get bleeped on TV.  But even that's only on some stations.  And not the ones that anybody watches.

I checked Amazon and you can buy 11,424 books with the F word in the title. That's a whole library--or an interesting bookstore--for goodness sakes. I mean, really. WTF?

Clearly the F word has lost its cachet.  These days George Carlin wouldn't even have an act. And James Jones' books wouldn't be best sellers.  If the F word no longer turns the head of a 60 year old lady, where's the gratification?  Where's the relief?  Where's the shock value?  

Somebody really needs to come up with a new word.  Soon. 

Otherwise, where's that leave us grandmas who are stuck in traffic in our SUV's, with whiny grandkids, and no McDonald's in sight?