“Words, words, words,” responded Hamlet when asked what he was reading.
The Prince of Denmark may have been feigning madness or may have been certifiably insane when he answered. Nonetheless, his slap-happiness captures the feelings of many wordsmiths when faced with a growing list of “words of the year.”
Each December, linguists comb through headlines and social media posts to determine how language helped to define the zeitgeist of the previous twelve months. This past year was no exception.
The American Dialect Society chose ”(my) pronouns” as 2019′s word of the year to reflect the growing practice of people telling others how they wish to be addressed, as he, she, they or some other option.
In the same vein, Merriam-Webster gave the nod to “they” because of its increased use among nonbinary people and people who do not wish to be identified by biological sex. (The American Dialect Society chose “they” as its word of the decade.)
Meanwhile, National Public Radio’s Geoff Nunberg designated “disinformation” as his choice because of the number of institutions that twist and spin facts to suit a particular narrative. (NPR itself selected “they.”) Nunberg also noted that “quid pro quo” and “OK, boomer” had their moments in 2019.
Dictionary.com went with “existential,” Oxford Dictionaries named “climate emergency,” and Cambridge Dictionary, way out of left field, chose “upcycling.”
Always the contrarian, I choose a word or phrase each year that I wish would go away, retired to some dusty mantel after receiving a gold watch for meritorious service.
Last year around this time — OK, it was February, but bear with me, I’m trying to start a tradition here — I made a pitch to retire “reach out.”
Professional people are always reaching out to colleagues, guest speakers, their children’s orthodontist, the local taxidermist and the company that collects their garbage from the curb each week.
I argued then, and still believe now, that “reaching out” is a way to elevate a humdrum part of existence and infuse it with profundity. It sounds far less exciting to say I will email somebody and ask for directions.
Reaching out, however, conjures images of Michelangelo’s God on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, arm outstretched to deliver life through a brush of His index finger.
My plea didn’t make much of an impact. At a meeting a few weeks ago, I heard attendees promise to “reach out” at least three different times, and the phrase still haunts my emails.
Undeterred, however, here is my choice of another heinous expression that should be relegated to the dustbin: Asking for a friend.
As with all overused expressions, asking for a friend started strong. It was wry, cynical and funny, sometimes all at once.
It’s not a sign of ignorance when you install a Command Strip upside down, right? Asking for a friend.
What if I’m a megalomaniacal leader who starts wars with foreign countries to distract from my impeachment problems at home? Asking for a friend.
It’s an expression that launched a thousand (million?) memes, and that’s the problem. It’s no longer witty. Now it’s just old and tired and pathetic.
Yet I see from a quick Twitter search that lots of people are still asking for a friend, and at least one regular podcast bears that name. So I see no indication that the expression has worn out its welcome.
As somebody brilliant once said, “A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds.”
Until two minutes ago, I thought that was another quote from “Hamlet,” which would make a nice way to tie this column’s conclusion to its introduction.
What happens when your column-ending Shakespeare quote was actually written by Ralph Waldo Emerson?
You know who I’m asking for.
chris.schillig@yahoo.com
@cschillig on Twitter
P.S. to my grammarian readers: Yes, that last sentence should be “you know for whom I’m asking,” but I hated the sound of it. A thousand lashes to me with an Oxford unabridged dictionary.
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