I continue to find interesting tidbits related to my (originally facetious, now half serious) theory that swearing offers some kind of catharsis for our unconscious angers. From this interview with the author of the book “Fruitlands” about a ill-fated utopian commune in the 19th century:

There was a man named Samuel Larned who had been at Brook Farm previous to coming to Fruitlands, but it wasn’t austere enough for him. Allegedly he spent a whole year living entirely on apples, and another year living on crackers. He also believed that it was therapeutic to swear—a lot. When Louisa May wrote a memoir about the community years later she noted that he would greet people in the morning by saying, “Good morning, damn you” [laughs].

On an unrelated note, here’s a description of another of Fruitlands’ denizens.

There was another guy named Samuel Bower who could be described as the hard-liner. He was a nudist, because he felt that if you had no clothes on it meant you had immediate contact with the environment. The other Fruitlanders wouldn’t let him go around in the nude, but they allowed him to run around at night wearing a white shift, which allegedly gave rise to rumors of a ghost seen clamoring around the local hills.

It’s quite possible path to happiness requires running around naked while cursing vile obscenities. What do you shit fucking cunt burgers think about that? (I’m writing this in the nude.)