I don't know quite how to explain the chain of events that happened inside my head which got me to this point . . .
Let's start with Dave. In fact, let's just skip right to saying it's Dave's fault.
Dave posted this entry. I thought it was funny and immediately recognized the everyday usefulness of the phrase.
However--and I guess this is because I have two young grandchildren and read lots of kids' stories--since initially seeing it within the context of Busytown, I can't divorce that phrase from children's literature.
Every kids' book I can think of--including every book I read to Gabe or Lily--has an opportunity to insert this versatile little epithet.
For example: Old Yeller, just as Travis headed toward him with the rifle, surely must have been thinking, "this is bull**it."
Cinderella, when given a mile-long chore list to complete before being allowed to go to the ball, had to have been silently saying to her evil step mother, "this is bull**it."
It even works with nursery rhymes:
This little piggy went to market,
This little piggy stayed home,
This little piggy ate roast beef,
This little piggy said, "this is bull**it"
Nothing--no piece of literature, no sentimental movie, no historical figure--is exempt from my mind's heedless substitution of any poignant moment with my new favorite phrase.
And you know what the British Royal Governor was thinking as colonists dumped boatloads of tea into Boston Harbor, right?