When sending a message to a friend or enemy, many people are sent into a fit of rage when a certain expletive autocorrects to duck, ducking, or ducked. Instead of cursing the Gods about this supposed era, perhaps it’s worthwhile to interrogate what the smartphone is straying to tell us. Duck isn’t the only word with perfect profane rhyming. Yet, no one complains about the annoyance of dump trucks, tummy tucks, or sawbucks.
What if all this ducking wasn’t a mistake at all and just our way of reembracing our softer side? Ducks exist in myth and memory, in cartoon strips, on television screens, and sprawled across dinner plates. They’re daffy, sitting, and Donald.
Why swear when you can fondly recall the relentless wing flapping of an iconic mallard? Now, I could be mistaken. This could all be just another canard.
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