About "About"

As a “newsie,” I notice trends in language. I can’t help it. I spend a lot of time reading newspapers and surfing web sites for news, and as I have pointed out in this space before, the one thing journalists do best is imitate each other. One of them starts doing something and pretty soon they’re all doing it.

And then the next thing you know, we're living in perpetual tape-loop. Since journalists love to imitate each other, certain words and expressions are always becoming "trendy," the definition of which in this case is that we all then get promptly beaten to death with them. To the point where I, anyway, am ready to grab my head and scream.

Yes, I have examples. You knew I would.



Have you noticed, for instance, the way that in recent years everything seems to “resonate” with this or that segment of the public? “This tax proposal resonates with homeowners.” “The senator’s question will surely resonate with African-Americans,” etc.

Why don’t you go “resonate” on the freeway?

If I hear one more thing described as a “wake-up call,” I think I’ll take two Sominex and go to sleep so I don’t have to hear anything called a “wake-up call” for a while.

And then there’s the super-irritating disappearance from daily English of the word “problems.” I can’t figure this one out, but I suspect it’s a hangover from the politically-sanitized 1990s. For some reason the under-30 crowd has decided that nobody has “problems” anymore. They now have “issues” instead. “Ashley had issues with Bob’s gambling.” “I have issues with people who use cell phones in restaurants.” “So-and-so had software issues.”

No he didn't and no, you don’t. You have problems. Not issues. For God’s sake, children, there is nothing virtuous or democratic about calling a spade a diamond!

And now, from our fingernails-on-the-chalkboard department, ladies and gents, I present the latest drive-me-nuts trend in the arts and opinion pages: it’s the disappearance of the word “about,” specifically with regard to the activity of thinking. Nobody thinks “about” anything anymore. They just think the noun, proper or otherwise.

“Think Rachael Ray.” “Think Barry Bonds.” “Think Enron.” “Think Ovaltine on steroids.” “Think Acapulco in the winter.”

“About” took a hit a long time ago with regard to the act of talking. Remember? “I’m talking money.” “I’m talking results.” “We’re talking sports here.” It was a bit of tough-guy shorthand, a way of making clear that you meant business and weren’t beating around the bush. You heard “I’m talkin’ results” and you pictured a guy who looked like Alex Karras on your TV screen, assuring you that some snake oil called Grapefruit 45 really would take 40 pounds off you in three weeks.

But “Think this” and “Think that” doesn’t even have the tough-guy cachet. It smells of journalists trying to sound hip and cutting-edge. The problem, as usual, is that they’re all doing it now, so it no longer smacks of anyone’s personal style, like the late Mike Royko saying “Sez Who? Sez Me!” It’s the latest verbal antenna ornament. Every smartass movie reviewer and columnist has got to have one, and they’re all whipping in the breeze, the same size and color.

This is the most aggravating trend in language since the disppearance of the word “said.” Under-30’s don’t, and have never liked, the word “said” for relating a past conversation. When I was in high school, young girls, including my own younger sister, used to substitute “go” for “say,” hence reducing people from human beings who spoke words to animals who make noises. I’d hear her on the phone, “And then I go, ‘What’s the answer to that question?’ And then he goes, ‘I don’t know.’ And then I go, ‘Well, if you can’t answer the question, what are you doing here?’ And then he goes, ‘Well, you asked me here.’ And then I go…” Ooh, that used to set my teeth on edge.

But not as much as its later replacement, starting around the beginning of the first Clinton administration and still persisting today: “Go-for-say” has been replaced by “Like-for-say.” You know what I’m talking about. “And then I’m like, ‘What’s the answer to that question?’ And then he’s like, ‘I don’t know.’ And then I’m like, ‘Well, if you can’t answer the question, what are you doing here?’ And then he’s like, ‘Well, you asked me here.’ And then I’m like…” Ooh, that sets my teeth on edge now, and has for about 15 years.

What is the matter with “I said” and “He said??” Do we absolutely have to talk stupid among ourselves?

Think Cindy Crawford. Think moron. And knock it off, okay?