Mr. Reed, swears
Lou Reed, Underneath the Bottle:
Son of a B.
Here’s a raise of the glass to the replacement of swears with their first letters. Stub your toe? “F.” Walk through plate glass window? “F. A. I’m very badly cut.” Surrounded by irritable brain-hungry zombies? “F. C-S. D. C. F. My delicious brains are yours to eat, gentlemen.”