This will necessarily be one of the most difficult posts I will ever write. Not because of the subject matter, mind you. It’s the way I type.

You see, in order to maintain the family-friendly nature of this site (can’t you see all those impressionable little 10 year olds clicking over to the House in order to discover the latest in the Glenn Greenwald soap opera? Or perhaps to pick up the latest inventive invective I spew toward the left?), I made it a hard and fast rule that I not spell out 3 of the more colorful metaphors in the English language.

You know which ones they are. I know which ones they are. I know you know which ones they are just like you know that I know which ones they are which means I don’t have to repeat them. The fact that my site is on the sh*t list in most libraries across the country already due to its “racist, sexist, homophobic” (did you forget anti-illegal immigrant?) slant, just makes my care to not use vulgarity on the site all the more puzzling. Chalk it up to a residual belief in Catholicism that posits the notion that my mother is reading what I write up in heaven. A pleasant thought, that. On the other hand, she was a Roosevelt liberal so I’m sure she clucks her tongue at some of the things that end up on this website.

Since I have voluntarily rejected spelling out completely the word “sh*t” and substituting the ubiquitous star, I might as well reveal that I am not a very good typist. Don’t ask me why but I only use three fingers on my left hand and one on my right. Weird, huh? Of course, that means that getting my fingers up to that sh*tty star on the keyboard can get to be a real f**king nuisance, ya know what I mean? I mean, sometimes I feel like a real paste eater when typing.

Maybe I should get some pointers from Goldstein on that. Or maybe TBogg could be helpful in this respect; he was one of the first to refer to Goldstein as a paste eater. Obviously, he knows all about paste eating – not much else – but paste eating seems to fall within the scope of his knowledge.

At any rate, what brought this unfortunate subject up is that absolute sh*tstorm that has been unleashed all because the President of the United States used the word “sh*t” at the G-8 banquet last night. And every lefty blogger in Christendom (if they believed in that sort of thing) is writing about it, linking each other in a frenzy of chattiness and gossip mongering reminiscent of 12 year old girls at a slumber party. Since liberals usually behave like 12 year old drama queens anyway, I’m sure they’re comfortable as hell feeling themselves up on the subject.

I know, I know…one would think that considering the mouth on some former occupants of the White House who will go unrecognized that the left wouldn’t be casting stones so close to glass houses. He-with-the-constantly-unflaccid-penis swore like a sailor as did his wife: She-who-throws-ashtrays-like-frisbees. But to be fair, the drama queens are also chattering about other things the President said.

As he chats with Russian President Vladimir Putin, Bush expresses amazement that it will take Putin and an unidentified leader just as long to fly home to Moscow as it will take him to fly back to Washington. Putin’s reply could not be heard.

“You eight hours? Me too. Russia’s a big country and you’re a big country. Takes him eight hours to fly home. Not Coke, diet Coke. ... Russia’s big and so is China. Yo Blair, what’re you doing? Are you leaving,” Bush said.

I have a challenge for you liberals out there. Bug your neighbor and tape his conversations for a couple of days. This has two advantages. First, you’ll be doing us all a favor (including the FBI, the NSA, the CIA, the DIA, DHS, and probably a couple of super-duper secret agencies we know nothing about but that you’re paranoid of anyway) by ascertaining whether or not your next door neighbor is a terrorist. But more importantly, you’ll discover what human beings talk about during their waking hours.

The Nobel Prize winning playwright (and anti-American dolt) Harold Pinter used to go to the park near his flat in London, sit on a bench, and listen to people talk. What he found was absolutely startling. In their unguarded moments, even people who’ve known each other for 50 years talk about nothing at all. Pinter’s plays are full of disjointed, disconnected dialogue that works because everyone recognizes it for what it truly is; the grunts and sighs, the vocalizations of human beings talking not to communicate but to assure each other that they mean each other no harm. In short, people talk like Bush do in order to put people at ease in a social situation. (I’d love to see Dr. Sanity delve into this).

Those fellows at the summit don’t know each other all that well – not in the biblical sense (although watching creepy Putin kiss that kid on the stomach last week chilled my bones) and certainly not in the way that long time friends relate to each other. Making polite small talk as Bush was doing was a fascinating example of Pinterian dialogue. His comments about Russia’s size, the time it takes to fly home, and especially his recognition that Blair was leaving – all of this could have been lifted from a Pinter play. It’s how everyone talks. And the fact that it doesn’t sound “Presidential” or “intelligent” shouldn’t surprise us.

It is strange and fascinating to catch a President in the act of being human. But of course, there was also the President expressing what was clearly frustration at the United Nations for not getting on Syria’s tail and getting Hizballah to stop shooting and face facts:

Bush expressed his frustration with the United Nations and his disgust with the militant Islamic group and its backers in Syria as he talked to British Prime Minister Tony Blair during the closing lunch at the Group of Eight summit.

“See the irony is that what they need to do is get Syria to get Hezbollah to stop doing this sh*t and it’s over,” Bush told Blair as he chewed on a buttered roll.

Ezra Klein not only puts the entire incident in perspective, but recognizes how low “political reporting” has fallen:

That’s a big deal: Bush believes it within the Syrian government’s power to calm the conflict. Theoretically, that should have major implications for American diplomacy and, possibly, policy. So what’s CNN’s headline? “Open mic catches Bush expletive on Mideast”! The story is not that his substantive views on the issue have been uncovered, but that the president curses. Indeed, the article even speculates on how such a stunner slipped out, arguing that “the escalating crisis in the Middle East prompted him to use an expletive in a conversation with British Prime Minister Tony Blair.”

This is your press corps. The President has a potty mouth is a more pressing story than the President believe sufficient pressure on the sovereign nation of Syria could be the key to ending an intensely volatile war in the Middle East. What a proud day for my profession.

Don’t get out the self-flagellating whip quite yet. Not when every top lefty blog is all atwitter over the President’s potty mouth. Saying sh*t out loud in a public place may have lost almost all of its shock value since the left has degraded language and meaning. But all of that is forgotten when Bush uses the term. All of a sudden, the word is indicative of the President’s (please choose only one) 1) incoherence, 2) simple mindedness, 3) confusion, 4) lack of vocabulary, or 5) stupidity. I suppose when an intellectual like TBogg or Jane Hamsher uses the word, it’s fraught with subtext and meaning. But when our Texas President uses it, it just shows what a sh*tkicking cracker he truly is.

I am glad I am finished writing now. Reaching for that star was getting to be a pain in the ass. Almost as hard as typing the words “intelligent” and “liberal” when they’re right next to each other.

Thankfully, I’ve had no occasion that I can recall offhand where my fingers were called upon to make that kind of effort.