Yes, in cursing. Hey, it’s f***ing something , anyway. Evidently, we swear more on phone calls than any other f***ing state.

And we are also supposed to be the least courteous people on phone calls. Yeah, well, call the Waaaahmbulance, whiners. Suck it up, Buttercup.

All this proud dropper of f-bombs (we’re talking carpet-bombing, Kissinger-scale bombing here, folks) can say to this honor is: it’s about God-f***ing-damned time we got some mother-f***ing recog-f***ing-nition for f***ing something around here. I mean, hey,motherf***ers, you live in this Republican Hell, this den of corruption-induced industrialized malaise, this place that reeks of almost-succeeded and also-rans, with its inequality and crap weather, and we’ll see how long it takes you to start whipping out the lingua Franca . Dammit.

Mr. Blunt and Cranky

(Hat tip to a good friend for letting this f***ing blogger know about the article. You know who you are.