The initial reaction since the texts were released last week often seemed to be a pearl-clutching surprise that an elected official would use such foul language.

Talk about a bad first take.

True, I鈥檓 a horrible judge of the news value of curse words. My dad was a sailor and then a truck driver; my mother was a bootlegger鈥檚 daughter and a spot-welder during World War II. My capacity to be shocked by cussing disappeared around the time of my First Communion.

But once we get past Jones being comfortable with F-bombs 鈥� and bombs beginning with other letters 鈥� the exchanges uncovered through records requests from and the did reveal a truth about politics that may be shocking 鈥� shocking, I say! 鈥� to the idealistic and naive:

The game doesn鈥檛 change; just the players do.

The biggest news to be gleaned from the pages of purple prose is that for all the talk of progressivism, City Hall is still guided in large part by two baby boomer males who have been in the game for decades.

One of those guides is , the mayor鈥檚 father, an activist first elected to the Board of Aldermen in 1981. He was the St. Louis comptroller when he pleaded guilty to felony fraud charges in 1995.

In an exchange about a social-media complaint made by Alderwoman Cara Spencer, the mayor pointedly suggests that her father post a reply message that points out a Spencer misstatement about political patronage rules.

鈥淵ou should correct her,鈥� the mayor says.

Shortly thereafter, Virvus Jones texts her a copy of his reply.

You鈥檒l get no complaint from this bureau about a dad going to bat for his kid. That鈥檚 what parents ought to do. And along with that, what politician doesn鈥檛 want someone who can say the gruff stuff while they ostensibly float above the fray.

But the exchange gives us hope that the next time Virvus Jones goes after Spencer or some other critic, the mayor will spare us the righteous indignation of acting as if she had no hand in it or that it鈥檚 not part of a political strategy.

And Virvus Jones is not the only baby boomer with his hands firmly on Tishaura Jones鈥� progressive City Hall wheel.

The texts showed a strong grip from adviser , who鈥檚 been spinning political things in St. Louis well before 鈥渨oke鈥� ambled along.

Callow came to town in 1991 to work for Mayor Vince Schoemehl and then served as a key adviser to Mayor Francis Slay during Slay鈥檚 16 years in office.

One key to surviving that long in politics is being smart and savvy enough to know how to play the old game while making it look like a new game.

Along with keeping Mayor Jones on point about what her administration鈥檚 strategy was on certain issues 鈥� especially that they were definitely cutting ties with Circuit Attorney Kimberly M. Gardner shortly before Gardner鈥檚 tenure abruptly ended 鈥� Callow also did what any good close adviser does: .

Having the ear of a mayor, or even a county executive, simply is good business. And politicians, even more than normal people, love being told they鈥檙e good enough, smart enough and people like them.

Also, another political truism surfaced in another Gardner-related text exchange: Money talks, always.

In early May, after Gardner said she would leave office at month鈥檚 end, Tishaura Jones got a text from Dave Steward, the billionaire chairman of World Wide Technology.

Steward shared the resume of lawyer Gabriel Gore, who eventually was appointed circuit attorney by Gov. Mike Parson.

鈥淵our interest??? Let鈥檚 review. God Bless,鈥� Steward texted to Jones.

The mayor responded in the way that many people probably respond to Steward 鈥� in agreement, with exclamation-point enthusiasm.

鈥淕abe鈥檚 a great guy! He鈥檇 bring a level of professionalism to the office,鈥� Jones said.

Although the two political parties love to argue that they鈥檙e the ones who fight for the little guy, we know that both parties always take the calls from the big guy.

Finally, the text exchanges showed that a line first uttered by England鈥檚 Lord Palmerston in the 1840s, and later made locally famous by U.S. Rep. William 鈥淏ill鈥� Clay, is still operable:

There are no permanent allies, only permanent interests.

One exchange concerned the Ethical Society of Police, which represents officers of color. The society and the mayor had been fast friends in the past, at least until ESOP opposed the mayor on several issues.

But on May 14, the mayor notes how she had bested several unions and the ESOP to thwart the state takeover of the city police.

Callow replied, 鈥淗ahaha. The boys picked the wrong mayor to fight.鈥�

The mayor responded, 鈥淎nd ESOP still won鈥檛 shut the f--- up!鈥�

To which Callow replied, 鈥淭hey sold out.鈥�

In a statement issued later, the society said it doesn鈥檛 鈥渢ake well to disrespect.鈥�

It stated: 鈥淭he Ethical Society of Police won鈥檛 be 鈥榮hut up鈥� because that is abandoning those we serve.鈥�

Goodbye, permanent allies.

Finally, in the wake of the release of the texts, Mayor Jones responded: 鈥淚 understand the impact of some of my comments and will contact the relevant parties to ensure productive dialogue moving forward.鈥�

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why we have political consultants and spokespeople.

At some point in the process 鈥� and no one loves 鈥減rocess鈥� more than those who 鈥渟elf-identify鈥� as 鈥減rogressives鈥� 鈥� someone feeds a situation into the P.R. word-tossing machine and it spits out a response that manages to sound like something while really meaning nothing.

So if any big mistakes were made, it was not by the mayor or her pair of consiglieres. The big misstep was made by those who forgot or never knew that the most accurate assessment of politics came in 1971, a year before Tishaura Jones was born.

And it didn鈥檛 come from an English lord, but from : 鈥淢eet the new boss, same as the old boss.鈥�