Before I had kids, one of my worries was whether I would be able to refrain from swearing in front of them. Not that I use obscenities a lot, I just have very little filter between my brain and my mouth and changing habits is not my strong suit. Surprisingly, it has been almost effortless - like I have a V chip installed somewhere in there, so when little ears are listening I get more creative. Now Christmas may not seem like the best time to discuss this, what with that whole JOY thing, but the old classic You're a Mean One Mr. Grinch by Dr. Seuss is a veritable bounty of creative phrases. I can't take myself too seriously if I am calling the guy who cut me off in holiday traffic a "crooked jerky jockey". {And just between you and me, I can't help but think of Dick Cheney when I read the words 'garlic in your soul'.} Just take a gander:
You're a mean one, Mr. Grinch.
You really are a heel.
You're as cuddly as a cactus,
You're as charming as an eel.
Mr. Grinch.
You're a bad banana
With a greasy black peel.
You're a monster, Mr. Grinch.
Your heart's an empty hole.
Your brain is full of spiders,
You've got garlic in your soul.
Mr. Grinch.
I wouldn't touch you, with a
thirty-nine-and-a-half foot pole.
You're a vile one, Mr. Grinch.
You have termites in your smile.
You have all the tender sweetness
Of a seasick crocodile.
Mr. Grinch.
Given the choice between the two of you
I'd take the seasick crocodile.
You're a foul one, Mr. Grinch.
You're a nasty, wasty skunk.
Your heart is full of unwashed socks
Your soul is full of gunk.
Mr. Grinch.
The three words that best describe you,
are, and I quote: "Stink. Stank. Stunk."
You're a rotter, Mr. Grinch.
You're the king of sinful sots.
Your heart's a dead tomato splot
With moldy purple spots,
Mr. Grinch.
Your soul is an appalling dump heap overflowing
with the most disgraceful assortment of deplorable
rubbish imaginable,
Mangled up in tangled up knots.
You nauseate me, Mr. Grinch.
With a nauseous super-naus.
You're a crooked jerky jockey
And you drive a crooked horse.
Mr. Grinch.
You're a three decker sauerkraut and toadstool
sandwich
With arsenic sauce.
Copyright © 1957, Dr. Seuss.
