Freedom Of Speech...what?

When did the definition of diplomacy change from being tactful to being vague and meaningless in order to dance around the truth? Why is it that elections have more to do with being polite than being poignant?
Politics would be so much better with a real vocabulary. Can you imagine how interested the populous would be if every time a member of the GOP said “maverick” they used the term “fucking bad ass” instead? Essentially “bad ass” is what they are implying and if they were truly “mavericks” they would have the balls to use the appropriate vernacular.
I respect Barack Obama’s positive attitude. His willingness to use terms like “change” and “hope” (when what he is implying that we need “change” from the past eight years of horrifyingly unprecedented “hope”-lessness) is a testament to his sincerity. Using uplifting language and double positives (“more good”) in place of heavy double negatives (“less bad”) is a thoughtful tactic employed by many high school guidance counselors and authors of books about quitting smoking. Unfortunately the results of this kind hearted illusory tend to be a lot of passive-aggressive pundits and a confused populous.
I would prefer my politics a bit more honest (wow, that is a ridiculous sentence). I sincerely feel that the way our country is run would be dramatically different if we allowed our politicians the freedom of speech.
I can remember vividly the day my world changed from one trapped behind a thick veil of miscommunication to one liberated by an open vocabulary. I am speaking of the day I was given the gift of swear words.
I was at my father’s house in Northridge; he had picked me up from daycare and had driven me back to the Valley. I was in the fourth grade. I had no friends. I was abnormal, and no one could determine if I had ADHD, or if I was so gifted that my classes bored me. I would be placed in a gifted program one week then a remedial program the next. My parents tried therapy and special education programs based in different learning styles. They tried private tutors and personally explaining every homework assignment. None of it worked. In all honesty, I was just really good at abhorring school.
My teacher, Mr. Johnson, did not feel that my troubles were anything but sheer stupidity. My parents had many a proper sit-down with Mr. Johnson, the principal, and my elementary school guidance counselor. Meetings where, I am told, tears were shed, threats of physical violence were exchanged and my divorced, young, embittered parents were absolutely civil with each for the first and last time in years.
Mr. Johnson smelled of English Leather and coffee; a stench that lingered through 20 years of bourbon and depression. He also did not have the patience and compassion that my parents and other teachers had.
Mr. Johnson’s solution, derived from more than two decades as a fourth grade teacher, was to place me and my desk in a big cardboard refrigerator box in the back of the room. He would hand me assignments at the beginning of the day and I would pick my nose and weight for the bells to signal recess, lunch and finally my release to afterschool care. The other kids called me “Box Boy”. I was not at all happy or more educated at the end of the year.
So when my father saw my frustration that night in Northridge he could empathize. He knew what was bothering me and he had been working hard to make it better. He asked me what was wrong; I told him that in order to truly express myself I would need to use words that were inappropriate for a child to be using with his father. He said there were no such words,
“Mr. Johnson is a fucking asshole,” I said. My father welled up, smiled and hugged me.
“Yes he is son, yes he is,” He replied.
In that moment I was freed. I still barely passed the fourth grade, Mr. Johnson was still an evil man, but no longer was I afraid to express myself appropriately or diplomatically. I could express myself accurately. Since that day I have been working hard to use every word I know to express exactly what I feel.
Can you imagine where politics would be if we suddenly liberated them from the mindless bureaucratic doublespeak and allowed them to tell us just how fucked up everything is and what specifically they’re going to do in order to get this country’s shit straight?