You're phat if you read this

As if to prove my contention that I learn more from my students than they learn from me, every so often they teach me new slang.

In recent weeks, they have taught me “phat” (a compliment), “make bank” (to go to work), and “sheesh,” which can be an expression of appreciation (sheesh, that team is good) or a call-and-response, where one person says the word again and again in a high-pitched voice until somebody else says it back.

“Bussin” was one of this week’s entries. It means food that tastes really good. For example, the hamburger I had for dinner Wednesday was really bussin, although when I said this to my wife, she asked me what was wrong.

“I’m trying new expressions,” I told her.

“Stick with real words so people can understand you,” she said.

“You’re not so phat,” I replied.

The conversation went downhill from there.

Some of these slang expressions are just existing words pronounced in new ways. “Fur shur” is an example. “Exacary” is another. That one often precedes “disease,” I’m told. When you suffer from exacary disease, your face looks exacary like your butt.

Then there’s “secure the bag,” which sounds like it rolled out of a 1930s gangster movie on the running board of a black Cadillac. The meaning, “get the money” or “secure the advantage,” supports this. Working-class stiffs like me roll out of bed each day with a goal of securing the bag.

“Boring” is anything but. Apparently this now means humorous or entertaining, but my students say it is contextual. So if somebody calls you boring, it could be a compliment, but it could also mean that you are a traditional snooze.

In an attempt to be new-school boring, I listen carefully to each entry and promise to practice my new vocabulary when appropriate, subject to further research. According to the online Urban Dictionary, a few of my new acquisitions mean something other than the innocent definitions supplied by my students. Although, to be fair, some of the words have so many different meanings that no single one can be deemed definitive (pun intended).

I try really hard not to be “that guy,” the one who chooses to die on every grammatical hill. English is a living language, adept at absorbing foreign expressions and neologisms alike, like a fat lexigraphic spider enticing words into its web. The head-scratching slang of today is the standard, formal English of tomorrow — or maybe next week.

Kate Burridge, author of “Blooming English: Observations on the Roots, Cultivation and Hybrids of the English Language,” notes that traditionalists throughout history have attempted, unsuccessfully, to serve as language gatekeepers. These include such luminaries as Samuel Johnson (who warred against “nowadays” in 1755) and Jonathan Swift (who blamed language changes on “loose morals”). Burridge, writing some 20 years ago, notes that many complaints about language evolution have less to do with “genuine linguistic concerns” than with “deeper social judgements.”

The same could still be said today over objections to “they” as a preferred singular pronoun for people who do not identify as male or female, “undocumented persons” in place of “illegal aliens,” and speakers and writers whose tone deafness makes them prefer “China virus” over “coronavirus” or “COVID-19.”

It’s a fair bet that most of the new words my students are teaching me won’t survive until the end of the month, let alone make their way into general use. But some might, which is really cool, to use another piece of slang that is now part of the American lexicon.

Stubbornly barring the door against language growth is as misguided as it is hopeless. It’s certainly not phat, and it might even be a symptom of early-onset exacary disease.

chris.schillig@yahoo.com

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