Really stupid words, Chapter 12.

For some reason I have never been able to discern, certain words and phrases spread like viruses and, seemingly overnight, become buzzwords, banalities, clichés, trite, and hackneyed.

As so much of our discussion of late has turned to the spread of another kind of virus and the associated illness, there are a couple of phrases that are so overused they are making me sick.

“New normal.”

Was there an “old normal”? Is there even a “normal”? We live—as has humankind as far back as history can teach us—a fluid, ever-changing existence, where expectations are seldom realized and the unexpected is ever-present. “Normal,” whether new, old, or otherwise, seems meaningless in any concrete way. Now, perhaps, more than ever.

Then there’s “game changer.” What started out as a sports cliché is now used to describe almost anything that might affect something. Or everything. The “things” involved don’t seem to matter. Nor does it matter that there is no game involved. If “game changer” was ever an apt metaphor, it has long since lost its power.

Why not just say or write what you mean? Why not describe the behavior or activities that are changing, rather than tossing out meaningless twaddle like “new normal”? Why not explain the effect something will have rather than just calling it a “game changer” and leaving it at that?

The answer is simple. Tossing around clichés is easier than thinking. The inability to think clearly, then speak or write clearly, seems to be the new normal. And that could be a game changer.

Really stupid words, Chapter 11.

It has long been a curiosity why, when we have perfectly good words in our rich language, we are so eager to jump on the bandwagon of the latest Rube Goldberg-concoction and turn it into a buzzword.

A somewhat recent example: “Going forward.”

Now, I am a soccer fan. And, for as long as I remember, “going forward” is what a soccer team does when it is on the attack. It’s a simple, apt description of something or someone moving in a defined direction in the physical world.

Nowadays, it has become almost standard vernacular used to describe something else. And the description is not nearly so apt, if it is apt at all.

We used to say, “in the future” or “from now on” or, if you wanted to sound pretentious, you might say, “henceforth” or “hereafter” or “from this time forth.” All those words and phrases mean what they mean, cannot mean anything else, and are perfectly descriptive.

“Going forward”? Not so.

Then there’s the long-standing philosophical argument about whether time moves in a “forward” direction at all, or whether it moves around and around in a cycle. But we’ll leave that discussion to the philosophers.

Years ago, in a meeting at the office, a coworker used “going forward” when it was still fresh and new. Afterward, I asked him why, and he said he did not know any other way to say what he meant. I guess he forgot that, as recently as the day before, he would have been perfectly happy to say, “from now on.”

Stupid.

Really stupid words, Chapter 10.

As you know, American English is a rich language with enough words and phrases to tell about anything and everything. And yet, rather than just use words as they are meant to be used, we abuse them and misuse them. Usually, in feeble attempts to sound more important. But those efforts fool few of us, and are just plain stupid.

Then there are simple, ordinary, everyday words that get thrown into sentences where they serve no purpose whatsoever. “Different” comes to mind. It has a distinct, clear meaning to describe things that are not alike, or dissimilar, or, sometimes, unusual.

For example: “I talked to three people and got three different answers.” It is clear that each person’s account was unlike the others.

But I hear people say things like, “I talked to three different people,” or, “We visited six different states.” What purpose does “different” serve in those examples? Surely you couldn’t talk to three “same” people, or visit six “same” states.

On the other hand, considering the first example, you could talk to three people and get the same answer.

As far as I know, economy of language requires not wasting words by using them needlessly. Like “different.” You may have a different opinion.

Let’s start the conversation.

Not long ago, within my not-so-distant memory, people used to talk. We’d chat. We’d have discussions. And, curse of curses, hoity-toity folks would dialogue.

Now, we have “conversations.”

We used to be asked for our two cents’ worth. Now, we’re asked to “join the conversation.” Reporters used to conduct interviews. Now, they engage in “conversations” with their subjects. Radio talk show hosts used to take calls. Now, they “invite another voice into the conversation.” Internet discussion groups used to have forums. Now, they have “conversations.” Even arguments and debates and disagreements are “conversations.”

What is it about the word “conversation”? How is it that it has wormed its way into so many places in our language once described by perfectly good, and often more precise, words?

I suspect it’s because the people who use it think it sounds friendlier. And few people can resist warm and fuzzy, even at the expense of clarity.

What do you think? Let’s start the conversation about conversation.