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Was at my sisters a few weeks ago.

My young nephew, the Pistol, asked his Dad, “What does CENSORED mean?”

His Dad replied, “It’s CENSORED, not CENSORED.”

My sister turned molten rage in her eyes, steam coming out of her ears.

I grabbed a drink and pulled up a chair. For once I was quiet. I didn’t want to get kicked out when things were getting really good.

My Sister yelled, “Why did you tell him how to pronounce it?”

My Brother-in-law replied, “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking.”

Good one, Bro. I’m sure she’ll run with that.

At which point the Pistol asked, “BUT, WHAT DOES CENSORED MEAN?”

My sister turned to him and said, “You go sit on the front porch.” She must have noticed me then, because she added, “You too.”

I said “What, I didn’t laugh?”

She gave me the hairy eyeball.

So, the Pistol and I were sitting on the front porch when he asked, “What does CENSORED mean?”

“It’s a bad word.”

“Oh, why didn’t they just tell me that?”

“I don’t know, they’re your parents.”

“Yeah, they send me out here a lot when I ask about new words.”

“Yeah, me too.”

So I’m assuming my Sister is having a REALLY good Valentine’s Day. If not, I’m sure her and her husband are discussing new words.

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