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Language

Carnelian? Cornelian? Which shall it be?

… a shimmering mass of cornelian leaves, dripping and moist with the rain. 
— Agnes Newton Keith, The Land Below the Wind, 1939

If you are like me you’ve never heard of these two color names before. Never, that is, unless you work in fashion design, own a cherry orchard, are a jeweler or a mineralogist.

Or, for that matter, peruse the Merraim-Webster dictionary, again the source for today’s words.

Carnelian refers to a reddish-orange or brownish-red color, like the colors often found in the quartz by that name. It is a variation of cornelian that is based on Latin carn-, meaning “flesh,” in reference to the flesh-red color that some perceive in the mineral. Cornelian itself is believed to derive from French cornele, the name for the cornel cherry, and so named because of its resemblance in color to the fruit. Both words often get used interchangeably to describe leaves in autumn.

I was thinking about all the weird color names that sound appealing and mysterious when applied to fall coloration. That, in turn, led to re-visit one of the more famous assumptions in the psychology of language, the Sapir – Whorfian Hypothesis.

More than a half-century ago, Whorf argued for a strong claim—that the language people speak has a lifelong impact, determining what people can or cannot think, what ideas they can or cannot consider. So, for example, if your language did not contain separate terms for green and blue, you could not tell the difference. There is an element of truth here, because language can and does shape cognition. But the strong form of the claim has long been debunked: the effects are NOT permanent, and it is not language per se, but your experience (mediated by language) that shapes thought.

Gamboge, can be used to describe the vivid yellows of autumn. The name of the color refers to a gum resin from southeast Asian trees that is used as a yellow pigment in art and as a purgative in medicine.

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Experience is accumulated by what you pay attention to, and here language is one of the guides directing your attention, but only one. In other words, rather than uniquely and directly shaping thought in ways that can never be reversed, language indirectly pulls your attention towards things. If I manage to manipulate your attention in other ways, the outcome can and will be different.

Scarlet was not originally a word for a color but a name for a high-quality cloth, which is believed to have originated in Persia where it was called saqalāt. The word entered English via Anglo-French escarlet—a derivative of the Latin word for the cloth, scarlata—and became associated with bright red colors because the cloth was commonly dyed red

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Color is often used as an example. Papua New Guineans who speak Berinmo make no distinction between “green” and “blue,”and so are never attending to them as separate categories. If you’re an English speaker, your language does make this distinction, and this can draw your attention to what all green objects have in common and what all blue objects have in common. If your attention is drawn to this point again and again, you’ll gain familiarity with the distinction and eventually become better at making the distinction in contrast to Berinmo speakers. 

Crimson and carmine, words for deep reds, are doublets from the same Arabic source. The color crimson is a deep purplish red that is found in a dye made from pulverized kermes, or the dried bodies of insects. The name of the color and of the insect has been traced back to qirmiz, the Arabic name for the insect. The word crimson entered English in the 15th century via Old Spanish cremesín.

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If you test both groups in a way that excludes direct language, though, they are much alike in their perception of the central distinctions between green and blue. We English speakers are only better at picking out small differences and remember them, given out years of experiences with grouping them into separate categories. If I inundated you from now on with carnelian, cornelian, crimson and carmine, auburn, maroon, russet, amber, scarlet, sepia and gamboge, guess what? You’ll get better at distinguishing them.

Will it shape you assessment of the beauty of fall? You tell me!

Maroon, as the name for a dark red color, derives from French marron, which is the Spanish name for a chestnut. The earliest examples in English of the word refer to the reddish-brown nut, with the color sense dating from the late-18th century.
Before becoming a color name, maroon referred to a loud firework. Supposedly, people associated the noise of a chestnut bursting in a fire to an exploding firework. Most notably, maroons were used during World War I as a warning to take cover because of an approaching air raid.

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PS: You’ve heard the claim that the native peoples of the far north (including the Inuit) have an enormous number of terms for various forms of snow and are correspondingly skilled in discriminating types of snow. It turns out, though, that the initial claim (the number of terms for snow) is wrong; the Inuit have roughly the same number of snow terms as do people living further south. In addition, if the Inuit people are more skilled in discriminating snow types, is this because of the language that they speak? Or is it because their day-to-day lives require that they stay alert to the differences among snow types? (After Roberson, Davies, & Davidoff, 2000)

Amber can describe the dark orange-yellow color of a floating leaf or a substance found floating in the sea. It is derived from Arabic, anbar, which refers to ambergris, a waxy secretion (there’s that word again) of the sperm whale that is used as a spice and in perfumery. In English, amber was originally used as the name for this substance, with the name ambergris developing later in French from ambre and gris (“gray”) to differentiate it from the fossilized tree resin type of amber, which is also found around the shore (of the Baltic Sea, largely).

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PPS: for those interested, here is a fascinating summary of the effects of types of language (strongly gendered or gender-neutral) on creating more or less gendered societies and what that implies for legislation around language use. In German, for example every noun has one of three gender terms attached to it and things are judged correspondingly male, female or neutral. For example the word “key” is masculine in German and feminine in Spanish. The respective speakers attend to very different attributes, correspondingly. Strong and hard comes to mind first for Germans, small and pretty for Spanish speakers.

https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/does-your-language-influence-how-you-think/)

Music today is a golden brown according to Rimsky-Korsakov who described the key of D major as that color.

Or shall it be purplish-red as Scriabin described the key of E flat major?

The ghastly history of lurid makes it a fitting adjective for dying pale-yellow leaves. It is from luridus, the Latin word for such a color, and in the 17th century, it was used to describe the pale yellowish color of diseased or bruised skin. 

Merriam Webster to the Rescue

Post-pandrial torpor, I think it’s called. That state when your brain has taken a leave of absence because the masses of Thanksgiving food require all the available blood supply for digestion. I did not even have to look that up, mind you, such is the familiarity of the experience of eating too much…

I did, however, peek into the always open dictionary to find some words associated with birds given a) the absence of brain function and b) the fact that I had a magical afternoon last week photographing all kinds of avians.

Here goes, then, all words that originate with birds.

Carnard: a false or ungrounded report.

Canard refers to a duck in French (as in French dishes like confit de canard), via the Old French quanart, meaning “drake.” The connection to rumor and untruth follows a route of creative phrasing. A 16th-century French idiom was vendre des canards à moitié—literally, “to half-sell ducks,” but used as a colorful way of saying “to fool” or “to cheat.” No one really knows how one half-sells a duck, or where the idiom originated, but the expression was perpetuated enough for canard to carry the meaning of something commonly accepted as true that is actually unfounded.

It is a canard that I ate an entire cherry pie on Thursday. Not for lack of trying, however.

Auspicious: “promising success” or “favorable.”

In Latin, auspex means “bird seer,” formed from the noun avis (“bird”) and the verb specere (“to look”). In ancient Rome, these “bird seers” were priests, or augurs, who based their prophecies on the flight and feeding patterns of birds.

Well, your bird seer just hikes around Sauvie Island, camera in hand, with a prophecy that you’ll favor what she saw.

 Volatile: “characterized by quick or unexpected changes.”

Four centuries ago, volatile was used as a noun, a general term referring to birds or other flying creatures (such as butterflies). Related to the Latin volare, to fly.

Fly they did – so many, in such compact flocks, the sky filled with the noise of wings flapping and birds shouting. My kind of music.

 Musket: a muzzle-loading shoulder firearm used primarily in the era before rifles.

Less well known, however, is that the word musket can also refer to a male sparrow hawk. This is consistent with the word’s etymology: musket derives from the Old Italian moschetto (meaning either “small artillery piece” or “sparrow hawk”), which is a diminutive of the noun mosca, meaning “fly.

Here’s your hawk.

Halcyon: “calm or peaceful.” In ancient times, the word referred to a bird now identified with the kingfisher.

In Greek myth, Alkyone, the daughter of Aeolus, the god of the winds, became so distraught when she learned that her husband, Ceyx, had been killed in a shipwreck that she threw herself into the sea and was changed into a kingfisher, later named alkyon or halkyon.

Well, I did not capture a king fisher, this time around. But I always feel calm and peaceful when my patience is rewarded with capturing these little sparrows in the black berry brambles. They hop and flutter fast, but if I stand quietly enough for long enough, I’m able to connect with the camera.

And I got a good laugh out of the Merriam Webster example:

Remember the halcyon days of Facebook, when no one was concerned with who might peep their drunken pictures and angsty missives, and discussions of privacy settings were met with a mix of dismissiveness and apathy? 
— Jessica Roy, BetaBeat, 3 May 2012

Let’s start the week with some Halycon Days by Purcell….

Famous last words

Should you be able to visit me at my deathbed in the far, far, far away future, please remind me that I used to be a woman of strong opinions.  As evidence you can produce a blog from days yore that described my desired approach to last words.

“You despised,” you’ll remind me, “those saccharine utterances often ascribed to the rich and famous. No “More light!, I love y’all !, Don’t leave me alone!” for this blogger.”

“Remember,” you’ll say, ” what you picked as your favorite last words, however they were recorded, as epitaphs, letters, suicide notes or plain old utterances (that people probably changed to their liking in the first place)?”

“Words that were acerbic, witty, searing or courageous, that’s what you wanted to emulate.”

Like John Wilkes Booth’s, Abraham Lincoln’s assassin, who uttered:”Useless, useless!”  I guess you always know better with hindsight…. 

Or Karl Marx’s, who shouted at his house keeper inquiring about what he wanted the world to know: “Go on, get out, last words are for fools who haven’t said enough.”  He said enough all right, but too few listened….

Or Christopher Hitchens’, who mumbled “Capitalism. Downfall.” Provocative to the end.

Or Erskine Childers’:”Take a step forward, lads. It will be easier that way.” Uttered as an encouragement to his firing squad. Not a bad way to be remembered as a Brit flinging himself into Ireland’s war.

Another courageous soul, Todd Beamer, shouted: “Let’s roll!” Overheard on an open phone line just before attempting to regain control of the hijacked Flight 93 on 9/11.

“Just don’t let the words be forced like this,” you echo my old writing,” the “I can’t breathe” of Eric Garner and Jamal Kashoggi. 

Please DO remind me that I settled in the end on one provided by defiant writer, anarchist, and stout defender of the American wilderness, Edward Abbey.

“No Comment.”

(Here is a link that describes his extraordinary life;

https://www.azcentral.com/story/news/local/best-reads/2015/04/17/edward-abbey-last-act-defiance/25930091/


Come to think of it, I might change my mind.  I will learn by heart these words of Rosa Luxemburg’s last known text, written the day before her murder, to have them handy during my departure:

»Ordnung herrscht in Berlin!« Ihr stumpfen Schergen! Eure »Ordnung« ist auf Sand gebaut. Die Revolution wird sich morgen schon »rasselnd wieder in die Höh’ richten« und zu eurem Schrecken mit Posaunenklang verkünden: Ich war, ich bin, ich werde sein!

 “Order prevails in Berlin (substitute any capital in the world….F.H.)!’ You stupid lackeys! Your ‘order’ is built on sand. Tomorrow the revolution will already ‘rise up again, clashing its weapons’ and to your horror it will proclaim with trumpets blazing: I was, I am, I shall be!”

Then again, maybe whispering “No comment” will be easier.  We’ll see.

Photographs today are of prickly things, echoing prickly sentiments and Western desert life that Abbey protected.

Chosen Words

Apparently some things can’t make it into dictionaries…

For those which do, however, there is always that end-of-the-year competition of being chosen as the “it” word. 

The Oxford Word of the Year, for example, is a word or expression that is judged to reflect the ethos, mood, or preoccupations of the passing year, and have lasting potential as a term of cultural significance.  For this dictionary, the word was toxic  – referring to its links  with environment, waste, relationships, masculinity, culture and air, among others.  https://en.oxforddictionaries.com/word-of-the-year/word-of-the-year-2018

Dictionary.com, on the other hand, chose misinformation. The site was pointing to an important distinction between disinformation and misinformation and then gave tons of political examples:

Disinformation means “deliberately misleading or biased information; manipulated narrative or facts; propaganda,” the site explained, while misinformation means “false information that is spread, regardless of whether there is intent to mislead.” “When people spread misinformation, they often believe the information they are sharing. In contrast, disinformation is crafted and disseminated with the intent to mislead others,” the report said, adding that being able to identify misinformation is crucial, because a piece of disinformation could become misinformation.https://www.cnn.com/2018/11/26/us/misinformation-dictionary-word-of-the-year-2018-trnd/index.html

Nomophobia is the term chosen by readers of the Cambridge Dictionary. It refers to fear or worry at the idea of being without your mobile phone or unable to use it and is a composite: a new word made up of syllables from two or more words, in this case ‘no mobile phone phobia.’ You, like I, probably never heard of it before this morning, but it seemed to capture enough of a Zeitgeist feelings that it was the winner in dictionary readers’ voting. https://www.economist.com/books-and-arts/2018/12/08/the-meaning-of-the-words-of-the-year

Subsequently, my sentence of the year is: Nomophobia will decline when you realize that the loss of your phone prevents more spread of toxic misinformation….. 

Here is the serious version of why all this matters:

https://www.nbcnews.com/think/opinion/assessing-america-s-information-crisis-david-roberts-podcast-transcript-ncna943701

The interview linked above (text and podcast embedded) discusses how we decide what is true and what not. Our assumption of truth depends on trusting expert sources, relying on institutions and people to tell us what to believe and what not. If someone manipulates that trust, we are toast.

(Is that sentence simple enough?) 

Photographs today are of potential sufferers of nomophobia.

Big Words

Consequences of Erudite Vernacular Utilized Irrespective of Necessity: Problems with Using Long Words Needlessly is the title of a decade-old Princeton study by cognitive psychologist Danny Oppenheimer who now teaches at Carnegie Mellon. The paper won the Ig Nobel Science Humor award which recognizes “achievements that first make people LAUGH, then make them THINK.” Which it does indeed, as does its author (who introduces himself on his university website with” Some people say I like corny puns. There’s a kernel of truth to that, I’ve got an ear for puns that pop… ” )

The paper reported on a clever set of 5 studies that found basically that less complex writing is preferred over more complex one, and the author’s intelligence is judged more positively when writing simple texts. “The negative consequences of needless complexity were shown in widely disparate domains (personal statements, sociology dissertation abstracts and philosophical essays), across different types of judgements (acceptance decisions and intelligence ratings), and using distinct paradigms (active word replacement and translation differences). The effect was demonstrated regardless of the quality of the original essay or prior beliefs about a text’s quality. All in all, the effect is extremely robust: needless complexity leads to negative evaluations.”

https://www.affiliateresources.org/pdf/ConsequencesErudite.pdf

The assumption was that something that feels less fluent (because you have a harder time processing it) is associated with a less intelligent author. This was confirmed when a manipulation of how easily we can read a text, by presenting it in an impossibly hard font, also led to a negative judgement of the text author’s smarts. The reader could not easily process the text and so laid that at the feet of the author, even though it had nothing to do with the expressed ideas of the article. In summary, then: We protect ourselves from feeling dumb by blaming the writer.

Be careful, then, with using big words, if your writing aims at impressing other people. If, on the other hand, you just want to have fun cranking your brain, by all means adopt a commodious vocabulary as a meritorious selection over quotidian asseveration…… 

Here are the biggest words you might want to avoid (actually they are the longest, but sufficiently obtuse for my purposes):

http://mentalfloss.com/article/50611/longest-word-in-the-world

I’ll end with today’s favorite: FLOCCINAUCINIHILIPILIFICATION, the longest non-technical word in English, which refers to the act of describing something as having little or no value.  Like complex word use.

Then again, I might go for the longest German word at 80 characters:

Donaudampfschifffahrtselektrizitätenhauptbetriebswerkbauunterbeamtengesellschaft, the “Association for Subordinate Officials of the Head Office Management of the Danube Steamboat Electrical Services,

given that German is my first language, one for which Mark Twain observed: “Some German words are so long that they have a perspective.”

Just don’t judge my intelligence by it…..

Photographs today are of extremely simple utterances found on the street:

Happy Words

So many happy words.  Here are the ones rated most highly in order of reflection of happiness: 

Laughter, happiness, love, happy, laughed, laugh, laughing, excellent, laughs, joy, successful, win, rainbow, smile, won, pleasure, smiled, rainbows, winning, celebration, enjoyed, healthy, music, celebrating, congratulations, weekend, celebrate, comedy, jokes, rich, victory, Christmas, free, friendship, fun, holidays, loved, loves, loving, beach, hahaha, kissing, sunshine, delicious, friends, funny, outstanding, paradise, sweetest, vacation, butterflies, freedom, flower, great, sunlight, sweetheart, sweetness, award, chocolate, hahahaha, heaven, peace, splendid, success, enjoying, kissed, attraction, celebrated, hero, hugs, positive, sun, birthday, blessed, fantastic, winner, delight, beauty, butterfly,entertainment, funniest, honesty, sky, smiles, succeed, wonderful, glorious, kisses, promotion, family, gift, humor, romantic, cupcakes, festival, hahahahaha, honour, relax, weekends, angel, b-day, bonus, brilliant, diamonds, holiday, lucky, mother, super, amazing, angels, enjoy, friend, friendly, mother’s, profit, finest, bday, champion, grandmother, haha, kiss, kitten, miracle, mom, sweet, blessings, bright, cutest, entertaining, excited, excitement, joke, millionaire, prize, succeeded, successfully, winners, shines, awesome, genius, achievement, cake, cheers, exciting, goodness, hug, income, party, puppy, smiling, song, succeeding, tasty, victories, achieved, billion, cakes, easier, flowers, gifts, gold, merry, families, handsome, lovers, affection, candy, cute, diamond, earnings, interesting, peacefully, praise, relaxing, roses, Saturdays, faithful, heavens, cherish, comfort, congrats, cupcake, earn, extraordinary, glory, hilarious, moonlight, optimistic, peaceful, romance, feast, attractive, glad, grandma, internet, pleasant, profits, smart.

Any guesses why the number of ha‘s in hahahaha are rated differently in no predictable order? I, for one, have no clue. Can’t even come up with a sensible hypothesis. I do know, though, that these ratings were part of a larger study that looked at words linked to positive and negative emotions (I’ll spare you the list of unhappy words, but will say that terrorist made first place. The research was probably done before Trump’s inauguration….) 

Note, also, that heroes, victories, billion, promotion, diamonds and earnings are on the list. One does wonder about our hierarchy of values, no? 

https://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2016/07/the-200-happiest-words-in-literature/490916/

The ratings were needed to be able to do computer analyses of the emotional trajectory of stories, all kinds of literary stories from the bible to romance novels. Counting the happy or unhappy words in 2000 works of fiction, this is what a group of researchers, from the University of Vermont and the University of Adelaide, found: you can classify each into one of six core types of narratives (based on what happens to the protagonist): 

The clip attached below has Kurt Vonnegut explain in much funnier ways than I ever could: do yourself the favor and listen to him for the 5 minutes it takes.

Since flowers appear on the list as a happy word (I concur) and fairy tales ranked high on the story arc pyramid, today’s photographs are of flowers that look like out of a fairy tale. I saw them some years ago at the Harvard Museum of Natural History and they are all made out of glass. https://hmnh.harvard.edu/glass-flowers

Language Lesson

Yesterday was one of those days where my brain was too tired to engage in critical analysis of  –  really of anything. My thoughts were just word salad. Which led to vague memories of interesting facts about words.

Let’s start this week then with a few words that used to exist but that have disappeared from the English language; you might be able to figure them out from the context I put them in. (Source for this wonderful compilation is linked at the end of the blog.)

“My thoughts were jargogled enough that I feared not to be able to blog today….”    –        Verb trans. – “To confuse, jumble” 

“I corroded enough information from the web to amuse you at least….”  – Verb trans. – “To scrape together; to gather together from various sources”

“The outcome might make me a ludibrious target…”  –  Adj. – “Apt to be a subject of jest or mockery” 

But at least it gives you a chance to kench...”  – Verb intr. – “To laugh loudly”

“And it gives me a chance to forget about the malagrugrous jollux addicted to sanguinolency who dominates the news….  –

(in order of appearance) Adj. – “Dismal”, Noun – Slang phrase used in the late 18th century to describe a “fat person”, Noun – “Addiction to bloodshed”

Let’s not brabble about the details…”  – Verb – “To quarrel about trifles”

“But rather deliciate in the fact that language evolves, sometimes away of some pretty strange words….  –

“Verb intr. – “To take one’s pleasure, enjoy oneself, revel, luxuriate”

“And now I am going to freck along the promenade to clear my head and photograph what’s under the bridges…”  –

Verb intr. – “To move swiftly or nimbly”

Photographs today are of random words found on the streets.

https://matadornetwork.com/abroad/20-obsolete-english-words-that-should-make-a-comeback/

Patterns

Here is the chain of events that led to today’s blog. Another one of those days of just me and the dog at home. I: trying to play the piano, as I only do when no-one is around given how much my skills have deteriorated these days. The dog: doing his best to make me stop, sharing that quality assessment, I guess. I: trying to explain to him the complicated structure of Bach’s fugues and how I needed to concentrate. He telling me in no uncertain terms that he hates counter point and really wants someone to throw a  ball.

Guess who won?

And guess who, reduced to reading, came across an interesting essay by Freud, flagged by someone who wrote about Bach’s ability to invoke both joy and fear, horror and beauty, exact opposites in his compositions?  Freud’s (1910) essay is called The Antithetical Meaning of primal Words (Über den Gegensinn der Urworte) and starts with a reference to his work on dreams and their ability to combine contraries into a unity – said simply: something can stand for both one meaning and its opposite. He then introduces an 1884 text by a historical linguist, Karl Abel, that describes at length a peculiarity of ancient languages. They contained, according to Abel, numerous words that have two meanings, one the exact opposite of the other. Some old Egyptian word might mean wet as well as dry, for example. Further, he claims, there were compound words that bind together things of opposite meaning (old- young, far-near) but they express only one of them.  All this was postulated for Egyptian, Semitic and Indo-European languages (and, coincidentally published at the same time in the late 1800s when Marx had written extensively about dialectics…)

Freud enthusiastically took off with finding words in the more familiar Latin that seemed proof for this: altus means high and low, sacer means sacred and accursed, and so on. Then he explored German, and wouldn’t you know it there were words with opposite meaning: e.g. Boden meaning the lowest part of the house as well as the attic… voila, archaic languages provided the pattern that re-appeared in dreams.

You can read his deductions now linking this perceived pattern to the analysis of dreams yourself (if you are not distracted by a bored puppy…) https://www.sas.upenn.edu/~cavitch/pdf-library/Freud_Antithetical.pdf

Only one problem: The bulk of Abel’s work was thoroughly discredited, it’s a croc; and that was already established by serious philologists in the late 19th century, for sure at the time of Freud’s writing. Freud was clearly seduced by a claimed pattern that fit with his hypothesizing around his discoveries and methods in his psychoanalytic studies. Whether he willfully ignored or was just hopelessly blind to the state of the art in linguistics, who knows. It is certainly the case that we are all subject to this kind of confirmation bias.

Independent of dreams, it is a fact that contradictory emotions can be experienced when listening to a single piece of music, and that patterns can be woven into compositions that are of a dialectical nature. Nobody did that better than J.S. Bach. Which was what started this whole train of thought….

Photographs today of some lovely point/counterpoint reflections, collected during fall.

 

Quirks and Oddities

Quirks of one kind or another it shall be this week –

or any of these synonyms. idiosyncrasypeculiarityoddityeccentricityfoiblewhimvagarycapricefancycrotchethabitcharacteristictraitfad;

I thought linguistic peculiarities in terms of swear words would be an appropriate topic for starters.

http://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/the-delightful-perversity-of-quebecs-catholic-swears?utm_source=facebook.com&utm_medium=atlas-page

Once you’ve read the attached link to an analysis of Canadian swear words involving the catholic church, you’ll understand my choice of photographs.  Sit on these benches and contemplate linguistic whims…..

Of course none of these church benches were photographed in Canada.

Or the US, for that matter.

I saw them in Italy, France, Germany and Austria.  Each of these countries has their own arsenal of swear words. But the functions of swear words are universal.  “We tend to think of swear words as one entity, but they actually serve several distinct functions. Steven Pinker, in The Stuff of Thought, lists five different ways we can swear: “descriptively (Let’s fuck), idiomatically (It’s fucked up), abusively (Fuck you…!), emphatically (This is fucking amazing), and cathartically (Fuck!!!).” None of these functions require swearwords.”

Here is a more detailed overview: http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20150306-how-to-swear-around-the-world

In any case, too much swearing around my house these days when I read the news…..