Tag: Language

Dare I Defend Cliches?

Normally, I’d be the first guy to applaud the death of a cliché.  As everybody within earshot knows, I’ve spent the last two decades praying that the “shocked and appalled” crowd would pack their “imagine my surprise” bag and hit the road.  However, imagine my surprise, the other night when I witnessed the sudden and painful death of “schizophrenia.”  It was a minor incident that left me shocked and appalled.  What happened was, on election night, Tom (Brokaw) and Brian (Williams) were controlling their euphoria and discussing what had just happened to the Republican Party.  It was all fun and games until Brokaw forgot it was 2012 and said something like “Voting patterns are suffering from a kind of political schizophrenia right now.”  The words were hardly out of his mouth when his eyes widened and his hand visibly twitched towards his earpiece.  Obviously, the director up in the sound booth had set off the Politically Correct alarm.  Immediately, Tom started bobbin’ and weavin’ as if he were Muhammad Ali about to tuck into Smokin’ Joe Frazier.  In less than two sentences, we learned that schizophrenia was a debilitating disease, not to be taken lightly, and that the Republicans were a deeply divided party.  Off camera, I imagine the producer was pulling his (or her) hair out as the offended Tweets started coming in, Williams exhaled a mighty sigh of relief it wasn’t he who went off the reservation (“Oops, I didn’t think that!”) and the unpaid squad of interns over at the snack table were laughing their asses off.  Such is the minefield of modern reporting.

As we all learned from Miss Allen, our collective grade school grammar teacher, clichés are bad.  If you use clichés, the rotation of the Earth will be altered and Satan will rise from Hades with his hideous minions to wage unholy war on puppies and kittens.  Just one “round as a barrel” or a thoughtless “white as snow,” and you’ll never get a good job and probably end your days a scabby crack whore, lost and alone.  Even though I know in my heart Miss Allen was right, now that the PC crew have joined the fray, my enthusiasm for the war on clichés has diminished — noticeably.  It’s no secret that the Politically Correct have been up to no good ever since they raised their mindless heads, way back in the 70s.  To say the least, I’m on the horns of a dilemma.  Perhaps clichés are actually our friends, stalwarts who have stood by us through thick and thin, ready, willing and able to quickly communicate complex information with a minimal use of words.  For example, who among us doesn’t know something that is “funny as hell?”

OMG! I may have stumbled through the Politically Correct barrier and now stand friendless in the barren wastes of independent thought.  Hell is, after all, a major component of Judeo-Christian tradition – the particularly nasty bit at the end, actually.  Logically, therefore, it follows (since “humourous Christian” is definitely an oxymoron) that I may have offended some Christians by suggesting that Hell , the ultimate punishment for disobeying God’s law, is in some way comical.  Fortunately, since Christians are pretty much the Rodney Dangerfield of the 21st century, I don’t have to apologize.  However, way more serious than that, I may have offended a myriad of other groups with more powerful friends.  There is a cornucopia of religions out there (Wiccans, Shamanists, the folks who worship Tinker Toys) who do not acknowledge the existence of Hell, and they may be offended that I had the audacity to suggest there is such a place – funny or otherwise.  Besides, there are the Buddhists, Hindus, Zoroastrians and the ever-offended Moslems, who might be offended that my subconscious concept of eternal fire and brimstone is Eurocentric in nature and, therefore, suggests that their Hell is not equally as funny.  And what about the Atheists or the Existentialists or the Secularists?  I may have inadvertently offended three-quarters of the people on this planet!  Hell might actually be the most offensive word in the English language!  In order to satisfy the Politically Correct Fascistas, we may have to cut Hell completely out of our vocabulary!

Hell no!  Not on my watch!

Hell is a perfectly good word, and I shall defend it until they pry the keyboard from my cold, stiff fingers.  However, I am also a caring, sharing man of the 21st century, not insensitive to the sensitivities of others.  I have a compromise.  Why don’t we tap into our proud tradition and just call it the H-word?  It could join the L-word, the R-word, the mildly confusing Other F-word and the wildly popular F-bomb in our pantheon of words we no longer say out loud.  Everyone will still know what we’re talking about, but nobody will actually hear the word.  For example, it could be “hot as the H-word, out there.” Or “If I’m ever chased by zombies, I going to run like the H-word.”  It’s a brilliant and workable solution.

Unfortunately, I’ve run out of time to deal with my cliché situation.  Isn’t it fascinating that politically correct always diverts our attention from the immediate problem at hand?

Seven Deadly Words You Should Never Say

Way back in January (seems like a lifetime ago, doesn’t it?) the Canadian Broadcast Standards Council banned Dire Straits’ 1985 song, “Money for Nothing” from Canadian radio because somebody in Newfoundland took offence to the word “faggot.”  On Monday, August 29th (that’s seven months later, if you’re counting) the CBSC came out with its final report.  The final report established two things — once and for all.  One, comedy in Canada is not dead, and two, it’s okay to play “Money for Nothing” again.  Apparently, either, a seven month absence from the public airwaves can etymo-cleanse even the most grievous hurt out of 25-year-old song lyrics or Dire Straits’ use of “the other f word” (as the CBSC called it) wasn’t all that offensive in the first place.  As they say on NFL broadcasts, “You Make the Call!”

It strikes me that seven months is a bit much to wait for a ruling.  After all, the song itself, from opening riff to final fadeout, is less than five minutes long.  However, so be it: Canadian justice isn’t the swiftest thing on the planet.  It also strikes me that it’s terribly odd that last week “the other f-word” was an instrument of discrimination and oppression but today “faggot” is just another word we don’t use in polite conversation.  Again, so be it.  Words, like water, have a way of finding their own level.

For example, when I was a lad, comedian George Carlin came up with a list of “The Seven Words You Can Never Say on Television.”  When he did say them, not on TV, but at a festival in Milwaukee, he was arrested.  These were deadly words indeed — in my day.  Fortunately, it’s no longer my day, and Carlin’s list is now commonplace on TV, showing up on sitcoms, sporting events, the Academy Awards and even popping out of the mouth of the Vice President of the United States – when he wasn’t looking.  Not so deadly now, are they George!  To be fair, Carlin actually researched (“plagiarized” is such a hard word) his deadly words from Lenny Bruce, a comedian from the 50s and 60s.  Obviously, words have been offending people for some time now.

In that spirit, I propose (for the 21st century) a new List of Seven Deadly Words that should not only be banned from television; they should be taken out and shot.  To say they offend me is like saying the Black Plague was an annoyance.

Number 7 – It’s a golden oldie but it’s still just as vapid now as the day the first Valley Girl uttered it in a San Fernando mall.  “Whatever” was originally a term of dismissal, but it has now become an ever-ender tagline.  For example, people go to the store or whatever; they play tennis or whatever.  They eat, drink, give birth, sing songs and have their appendix out — then “whatever” immediately after each activity.  I have even heard “He died or whatever.”  Just a point of interest here; there is literally no whatever after the Grim Reaper takes your pulse.  “Whatever” is turning life into a series of vague comings and goings that drift around without definition or purpose.

Number 6 – “Going forward” (sometimes “moving forward”) is supposed to convey that sense of purpose that “whatever” has already abandoned.  It’s a tagline also, meant to put a positive spin on a mealy-mouthed statement — as in “We’re going to review our options, going forward.”  What this actually means is “The decision’s been made, and I don’t want to get into a big argument right now.  So shut up and forget about it.”  The problem is, in reality, everybody is already going forward; that’s what humans do.  The minute we go from horizontal to vertical in the morning, we are, by definition, going forward.  That’s why our eyes are in the front of our heads, for God’s sake.  We don’t have to announce it like we’re doing something special.

Number 5 – This is a compound word whose parts are used interchangeably and all have the same meaning – nothing.  “Empower/engage/embrace” was originally used by politicians who hadn’t read the briefing papers and didn’t want to look like dolts on national TV.  This led to some really goofy statements like “We need to engage the youth vote.”  First of all, you can exchange either of the other two parts of the word and not change the meaning (Try it!)  Secondly, the sentence doesn’t mean anything, anyway.  Unfortunately, the word escaped into the general population, and now ordinary people are “embracing /empowering/engaging” themselves all over the place.  It still doesn’t mean anything, though.  So, the next time somebody is “engaged/embraced/empowered” by Sheb Wooley’s philosophy of life or some other such nonsense, ask them why – or, better still, how.

Number 4 – Another Valley Girl classic that snuck into the language, “totally” is a junk word additive that nobody needs to use –ever.  Perhaps at one time, way back in Ridgemont High, it had some emphatic power, but today there is no difference between “I finished the painting” and “I totally finished the painting.”  Nobody even hears the word anymore; not even when it’s phrased in the negative, as in, “I totally didn’t finish the painting.”  Oddly enough, this doesn’t mean I never started the painting – which, of course, it should.

Number 3 – It’s “amazing.”  Written down, it looks just like every other word, but in spoken English it takes on a proverbial whole new meaning.  When spoken “amazing” has a drawn-out second “a,” and altering the drag alters the meaning.  “Amaaazing” is completely different from “amaaaaaazing” although it really doesn’t matter because everything that walks, runs or crawls is now “amazing.”  Chairs, windows and all other inanimate objects are “amazing.”  Meghan, Bryce and the neighbour’s cat are amazing, as well as a road trip to Brazil.  It all depends on that second “a.”  Eventually when we see the rings of Saturn — in person — “amazing” will last for 6 and a half minutes.

Number 2 – We’ve finally accomplished what George Orwell wrote about in his novel 1984.  We’ve created an all-purpose word that is the answer to all questions and the response to all statements.  “Awesome” is becoming the word we say in reply to everything.
“Good morning.”  “Awesome!”
“Your sister is a terrorist and they’re taking her to Guantanamo.” “Awesome!”
It’s also means yes: “Do you want to go to the hockey game?”  “Awesome!”  However, it never means no.  It can mean good, but never bad or indifferent.  In fact, it’s never negative, at all.  “The storm was awesome.” now means there was a lot of wind and pretty colours.  It doesn’t mean Mother Nature’s destructive power can kill people.  “Awesome” now lives in that happy, happy fairyland where everybody gets a rainbow.

And finally, Number 1: the most offensive word in the English language is “like.”  Eventually, every sentence we speak will begin with “like.”  “Like” will be inhabit every phrase we utter.  “Like” will become part of everything we do and every observation we make.  We’ll never actually do or see anything sharply described again – it will always be just slightly similar.  “I’m, like, going skating.” Or “He was, like, standing there.” Or “He was, like, standing there while I was, like, going skating.”  If this crap keeps going “like” will kill clearly defined speech and become the modifier for everything we do, feel or see.  It’s poised to strangle the life out of our language and the beauty and precision of the English is on the verge of dying a slow and agonizing death.

There are plenty of offensive words out there, and thoughtful human beings don’t use them; if nothing else, that’s just good manners.  The Polite Police are there for the yobs, who haven’t got a clue in the first place.  However, it seems perfectly acceptable for otherwise reasonable people to systematically abuse our language.  They have cut the guts out of it, without a second’s hesitation.  This offends me, and let me tell you it’s the canary in the mind shaft, warning us about just how vague and jellied our lives have become.

Slurring Our Words: a clear and present danger

When I was young, I had a little green turtle.  He was about the size of a month washed bar of soap, and he cost an expensive fifty cent.  I took care of him and he sat in his bowl and was, I suppose, happy.  The only irritation in his little turtle life was that, on occasion, because he didn’t play or fetch, I would tap him on the back and watch him pull his head into his shell to protect himself.  After a couple weeks that game got old and my turtle and I got along quite well together.  Sometime later — time is a variant for kids — I absentmindedly tapped my finger on his shell, but he didn’t react and his shell wasn’t hard anymore.  In fact, it was quite soft.  After a couple of days, I discovered my turtle was going from bright green to dull brown, and maybe a week later, he finally stopped changing color and went to amphibian heaven.  When you’re a kid, these things happen.  Kids understand this, and they deal with it.

Now, many turtle-less years later, I’ve detected the same softening symptoms in our language.   I’m worried that English, once strong and robust, is slowly softening to death.  I’m not talking about clichés or euphemisms — they’re always with us and have been long before I was a child and my turtle had his fatal event.  Nor am I complaining about young people who fill every sentence with incoherent combinations of “like” “totally” and “Whatever!”  That’s just jargon — teenspeak — every generation does that.  The same thing happened back in the 20s or the 60s or whenever I thought I was cool or groovy or hip or whatever I was.  No, I’m talking about the systematic suppression of meaning in words that should actually mean something; about taking the rich bright palette of Shakespeare and Yeats and smooshing all the colors together until all we have left is some brownish-yellowish, listless mud.  We use language to express ourselves, certainly.  English is so precise, direct and dynamic we can pinpoint an idea within millimetres, but we also use it to define ourselves.  We are what we say we are.  But we’ve been slurring our words for so long we have no idea what we’re saying anymore.  And as our words get squishy, so do the ideas and the attitudes they express.  Now we’re sitting in a world that has become timid in the face of strong words and uncomfortable with bold or clearly defined ideas.  The sad part is that, as we change our language to accommodate our fears there are some pretty serious side effects.

Unfortunately, our society absolutely loves a victim.  We’re infatuated with injustice.  In our affluent, stable society, where nothing much happens to ordinary people, victims are cool.  They get to do things, fight battles, have setbacks, overcome odds, persevere and sometimes — because, for the most part, we do live in a kinder, gentler society — triumph.  Along the way, they get to collect cool stuff — cards, flowers, those icky little teddy bears, the extra doughnut, and if it’s bad enough, a short term, part-time, celebrity.  It’s like a perfect Reality TV slash Video Game.  We can hardly wait to play “Ain’t It Awful?”  We love victim-ness so much that, over the past few decades, we’ve paid Oprah Winfrey (yes, she still has a last name) and her wannabes gabillions of dollars just to tell us just how badly some people are getting kicked around.  In a homogenized world where kids aren’t allowed to play tag and even the most extraordinary luxuries are merely a few mouse-clicks away, victims remind us that the world is still real – but in a carefully-controlled, electronically-safe environment.  The problem is, from the outside, it looks like a good gig, and we’re adapting our language so more people can take part in it.   Especially since victims get one other thing: they get to bitch.

Tomorrow — the words that are killing us