Ehh...its Kansas, cant say as Im surprised. Too much corn for anyone's good there.
My favorite word related ******* moment was in the army when my old Sergeant Major asked me to bring him back a "Cerrrrs" from the chow hall. He was a good ol boy from Tennessee, and it took three tries on his part before a buddy of mine butted in and explained he wanted a Coors (near beer).
Reminds me of the time my dad took me to work with him installing natural gas services into homes when I was about 12. After a while he left me to help a dutch guy. They were tapping into a 12" main of high pressure gas which was buried 10' deep. The hole was 12' deep to expose the complete pipe. The dutchman tossed a ladder down the hole to get started. The ladder was made of 2 - 12' long 1" thick steel rods with 1" steel rungs connecting them. Dammed if he didn't toss it right on the 12" gas main and punch a 1" bore hole in the pipe. Gas was escaping making a hell of a noise.
When you asphyxiate from gas it takes a while. First you get noxious then your legs buckle where you remain for the next 10 minutes or so in the fetal position till you die (that is if it doesn't ignite 1st.)
I'm peering over the edge of the 12' hole and he's yelling at me to get a rack, I say "what", "a rack! a rack!" he's yelling. I run to the trailer and look for anything that makes sense but come up empty and go back to the hole. What do you need I ask and he hollers "a rack get me a god dam rack" and he's furious with me so I go look some more and reluctantly go back empty handed. You can smell gas everywhere now. His fury gives way to frustration then fatigue and he climbs out of the hole, grabs a rag, douses it with water and heads back down. He wraps the wet rag around a stick and shoves it into the hole and the noise and flow of gas stop. I don't think he ever liked me after that.
Don't know why he just didn't stick his finger in there being a dutchman and all.