I was reading the New Yorker tonight and twice the magazine used the word "fuck" in casual settings. Once, in a front of the book story interviewing Rufus Sewell -- who stars on Broadway in "Rock and Roll" -- about his musical tastes. Sewell was a huge Bowie fan as a kid.
"My brother called me the Fat White Duke," says Sewell to the New Yorker. "I dyed my hair -- blond in the front, orangey on top. I was an early adopter of 'bad haircut.' I was really into 'David Live.' 1974. Bowie was absolutely drug-fucked. That's when he was living on peppers and milk."
That caught my eye, for the use of the word in print AND its clever compounded context of "drug-fucked."
Then a few pages later, David Sedaris in a comic piece about airline travel describes the dirty looks he gets when sitting in first class and the people headed for Coach glance his way.
"The looks they gave me as they passed were the looks I give when the door of a limousine opens. You always expect to see a movie star, or, at the very least, someone better dressed than you, but time and time again it’s just a sloppy nobody. Thus the look, which translates to 'Fuck you, Sloppy Nobody, for making me turn my head.'”
Twice in one issue and not even in the context of say, war reporting where you want to capture the salty vernacular of the soldiers. Just a casual use of the word and no blushing necessary. A fucking line's been crossed, is what I think.