The F Word is a feature fiction/documentary ("a genre sometimes referred to as ficumentary") hybrid film from 2005, directed by Jed Weintrob and produced by Christian Ditlev Bruun and Nick Goldfarb. The film was selected to world premiere at the 2005 Tribeca Film Festival in New York.
Joe Pace, a radio talk show host whose program, The F Word, is being shut down by the U.S. Federal Communications Commission (FCC) after racking up over $1 million in unpaid indecency fines. On his last day on the air, which coincides with the last day of the 2004 Republican National Convention, Joe sets off to broadcast his own one-man march through Manhattan.
Combining fictional scenes - written by over thirty different writers - set among actual protests with documentary footage of people Joe meets along the way, the film weaves together a seamless narrative. In a uniquely interactive writing process, each day new scenes were written and appropriated to upcoming events and in response to the previous day's footage. It is often impossible to tell the difference between fiction and reality. The concept is loosely inspired by Medium Cool by Haskell Wexler. The film was shot by cinematographer Christian Ditlev Bruun and Heather Greer on two main cameras at 24 frame/s, as well as several other video video formats for b-roll. The film was unconventionally color corrected and composited using several different types of software as well as in-camera adjustments creating a unique, photographic expression.
Wanna get low
Wanna get high
Glue’s in the bag
like the clouds in the sky
Sticks to the cider, sticks to your lips
Wanna get the spiders off my hips
Try and make out
when you don’t get kissed
You wanna get it up but
she broke you wrist
Dad’s got your arms
and mothers got your fists
Crossing off the kids on the Xmas list
The F-Word’s here
But the F-Word’s bad
Curse my mother
And curse my dad
But I love my mother
And I love my dad
Wanna have all that they never had
Wanna get high
Wanna get low
Girl’s got your bottle
and she won’t let go
So you grow up fast
You can’t slow down
Make another kid
with a bag for a crown
Mother’s in a car, dad’s at the door
Love’s got an applehead
bitten to the core
Plugged-up eyes
Sockets all raw
Try to plug the gap
but you wonder what for
The F-Word’s here
But the F-Word’s bad
Curse my mother
And curse my dad
But I love my mother
And I love my dad
Well I've been hangin' out with my Rebel son Kid Rock
And I don't really like this stuff they call Hip Hop
But he's sure been good to me
And I'm still tryin' to make him see
In country music, you just can't say the F word
My son Shelton say he's been havin' a hard time
Yea he does great shows but he's just gotta speak his own mind
Well I wonder where that came from?
I guess he's a real son-of-gun.
Take the old man's advice, be nice, and lose the F word
No, no in country music you just can't say the F word
Oh we've come a long way but it's best if that one's not heard
Oh we've had some hells and damns
But we don't say "bitch" we say, "why yes ma'am."
Cause in country music you just don't use the F word
Today's hot new country, it sounds pretty good to me
But it's time for basics, our roots and some reality
You gotta scrape me off the ceiling
Mrs. Hawkins says it with feeling
But in country music you just can't say the F word
No, no in country music you just can't say the F word
Oh we've come a long way but it's best if that one's not heard
Oh we've had some hells and damns
But we don't say "bitch" we say, "why yes ma'am."
Cause in country music you just don't use the F word
Some of these guys say it 500 times
But in country music you don't use it one damn line
It's like, I care about you, I think about you all the time
it's like, we friends and shit?
which means we treat each other right
you'll be there for me when you gonna be there for me
Verse 1: [Vast Aire Kramer]
yo it wasn't even like that
I wanted my cardiovascular to fight back
cupid had me runnin' circles blindfolded
in the daytime with a flashlight looking for her
yo, sit back, relax and smell the roses
a fly girl by any other name would still be that
but the trick is to see that
I'm caught in between future's fantasies and memories I played back
told my man I started sword fighting
'cause fencing was similar to tongue kissing
if you wait too long you gonna end up confessin'
all I think about is you undressin'
I extended my thoughts in a relationship
but they sunk like the titanic relation-ships
she was in a love triangle
but it wasn't like my feelings weren't there to make it a square
penny's for her thoughts
she's my very own American Beauty, red petals when we talk
...the f word
Chorus 1: [Vordul Megalon]
She like music, got me heavily booted(?)
when I'm out with her feelings be mixin'
chemical elixirs, caught her like a sickness
and can't get rid of it, these sexual addictions
Chorus 2: [Vordul]
tangle witted in my opposite sex friendships
with too many emotions, got me bent up
and it's real ill when something going on
but nothings being said trying to figure it out
wrapped all in your head just spit it out and I'll
truly understand what the problem is
'cause you got me twisted tryin' to stress birds
kickin' that f word
fuckin around, flirtin' and stressin' my nerves
Verse 2: [Vast]
check this situation, I wore my lust like cologne
she called it Obsession
the background's black and white and we adolescents
like what the fuck we know about love?
the more I learn it's like the Clash of the Titans
all I wanna do is avoid fightin'
a little arguing's okay but not everyday
and if we can't communicate what we got decays
until the smell gets more pungent
to the point where we can't be seen in public
body parts fallin' apart, a symbol of what things do
or better yet, a symbol of what friends do, they die
and together forever just sounds fly
that's how it sounded to me when I heard it
and slow motion was her lips as she worded
the f word
"don't take it personal, I like you a lot but I don't wanna lose what we got"
but what we got now is friction
she tellin' me intimacy and friendship she ain't mixin'
the f word
Chorus 1
Verse 3: [Vast]
yo, you burnin' the candle at both ends
I'm supposed to be the friend, I'm gettin' fried in the end
the big bang theory, what is this a trend?
you ask a girl out and the universe extends
tell me to talk to the hand again and I'll read your palm
I'm smellin' your shit now, don't know how to call
all I wanted was grounds for understanding
I ain't greedy, but to hold your heart I gotta put my hand in, why debate?
you think you can fit me in that anorexic space between love and hate?
I got all of the first one and none of the other
and that's something I learned from my sister and my mother
thought we was close in the genesis before all this
technology was cordless, a senseless courtship
this is more than just a song and when he's treating you wrong
I'm more than just a shoulder to cry on
the F word
The story of success is just like all the rest again
So pump me full of pill and push me on the stage again
Oh oh I'm bandaged n I'm damaged n I'm broken down
inside again
Be careful what you wish for
Cuz you just might get
We all wanna be so oh so famous
But we're only the way that god made us
So in the limelight, soak soak it up tonight
Cuz 15 minutes fades faster than the moonlight
So from us to you, this is our salute,
Everyone together now: Thank You!
I'm the centre of attention and I'm losin' all
direction again
Woooh oh so outta control, falling, farther, faster
again
be careful what you wish for
Cuz you might get it
[Chorus]
Here today, gone tomorrow
Nobody cares, there's no sorrow
Oh, You're chewed up, spit out
Ya fade away n burn out
Bup bup bup ba dup ba da dup ba da dup
I've got to get arrested
To keep you interested
And I should have known that I can't
Change the world by staring at it
My arms have little feeling
From lifting to the ceiling
A recipe for stealing hearts
I have no power in healing
And I suppose the Jesus pose
Is tired and superficial, lame
I wrote a song, I'm moving on
I'm praying you can do the same
I'm changing my direction
Making a correction
And oh, my God, I've dodged the unexpected
Bullets behind accolades and
Shake your head of leisure
Get your head and body into seizure
And battle with whoever hides
Assault disguised as dancing
This rotting phase of hands that raise
Bumping heads that pass each other
It's a boring phase, so part the wave
And drop the dead as driftwood surfer
Another song, it all went wrong
The radio refused to play it
I'm not afraid to serenade, the F word saved
And sucked the life from me
And I got to get arrested
To keep you interested
I've got to get arrested
I got to get arrested
To keep you interested
I've got to get arrested
I got to get arrested
To keep you interested
I've got to get arrested
I got to get arrested
To keep you interested
I've got to get arrested
I've got to get arrested
I've got to get arrested to keep you interested
I should have known that I can't change the world by staring at it
My arms have little feeling from lifting to the ceiling
A recipe for stealing hearts I have no power in healing
And I suppose the Jesus pose is tired and superficial, lame
I wrote a song, I'm moving on, I'm praying you can do the same
I'm changing my direction making a correction
Oh my god, I've dodged the unexpected bullets behind accolades and
Shake your head of leisure get your head and body into seizure
And battle with whoever hides assault disguised as dancing
This rotting phase of hands that raise, bumping heads that pass each other
It's a boring phase, so part the wave and drop the dead as driftwood surfer
Another song, it all went wrong, the radio refused to play it
I'm not afraid to serenade, the f word saved and sucked the life from me
I've got to get arrested to keep you interested