I swear too much. In the process of writing this short column, I will probably cuss at least half a dozen times, mostly because the #@#!!# N key is sticking and it’s driving me uts.

I swear when I’m happy: When the Royals won the World Series in November, I expressed my joy and relief through a long string of mindless profanity, even though what was in my head was pure poetry.

I swear when I’m sad: When the stray cat I’d been tending to for a year suddenly died under ridiculous circumstances, my grief was encapsulated in one word. One harsh and ugly word.

I swear when I’m frustrated, when I’m anxious, when I’m gleeful and when I’m tired. Often, my very first utterance of the day is a word that is not allowed in PG movies. I roll over, look at the clock and say #@#!!#.

Mark Twain said: “There ought to be a room in every house to swear in. It’s dangerous to have to repress an emotion like that.”

I agree with Twain, even if his stupid name demands that I use the sticking N key. I’ve always defended the use of profanity as a necessary and often creative outlet.

Now a pair of researchers has come out and defended this idea, so naturally I’m forced to rethink it.

According to the study, “Fluent use of profanity can be a sign of an articulate nature and a deep intelligence.”

To which I’m inclined to say bull#@$#@. When you get right down to it, swearing isn’t articulate or creative, it’s #@#!@ lazy. It’s defaulting to a limited group of crass words where a more expanded vocabulary would do a better job of describing the emotion in play.

When the heartsick Romeo discovered his Juliet seemingly dead within the tomb, he voiced his agony by proclaiming: “I still will stay with thee, and never from this palace of dim night depart again. Here … here will I remain with worms that are thy chamber maids. Oh, here will I set up my everlasting rest!”

Whoops, I just wept a little.

Now, imagine the same scene, but with Romeo flinging open the tomb door and remarking: “Aw, #$#@!@!”

Swearing, in its time and place, can be an art form, true enough. Behold the masters: Samuel L. Jackson, Dennis Leary and both Nick Nolte and Eddie Murphy in “48 Hours.” Offered in the right way, a single guttural swear word can sum up a situation in a way that even the finest poetry could not. I’d be perfectly OK, for instance, with Oedipus, upon discovering the true identity of his wife, barking a simple “#@!#@#” before gouging his eyes out.

The trouble is that, by and large, people are no longer using profanity in an artful way. Everywhere you go, it’s #@!#@# this and $#@!# that, no matter what the situation or the setting. On the street, in line at the supermarket, on the playground and in the parks, for #@$#@! sake.

Swearing isn’t seasoning sprinkled conservatively over the language anymore, it’s the main meal.

Back in the day, your momma would swat you over the head if she heard you cussing, or a teacher would send you to the principal’s office. They didn’t want you swearing because it’s vulgar, but also because they didn’t want you to come to rely on profanity as a linguistic crutch when better words are abundant.

Today, swearing won’t get you in much trouble at all. Society accepts profanity and even embraces it. The shock value is gone, and the result is that all those great, taboo swear words have lost their punch. There are still some fine, foul-mouthed artisans out there, I’m sure, but for the most part, people are swearing because they’re too indolent, or too dim, to put it another way.

So, these researchers have come out and asserted that swearing is actually good, and creative, and helpful, and in doing so, they’ve taken the fun out of it. They’ve sent me off on a mission to quit or reduce my own use of profanity because, gosh darn it, there are better words out there.

It’s going to be easy with this stupid sticking N key. I mean, #@#!#!

Mark LaFlamme is a #$%*#@ Sun Journal staff writer. You can #$%*#@ email him at [email protected].