Tag Euphemisms

Sing With Med

Michael 6 Comments
I was all set to write a light hearted, much about nothing, give serious the week off type of post when it happened again. I read the headlines. I’ve got to stay away from headlines. They invite animosity and foment divisiveness! What was the headline that’s about to set me on my latest rant? “Are Air Fryers Healthy!”
 
Ignoring the fact that I like my air fryer and for 50 of my 60-some years I considered the four food groups to be french fries, corn dogs, deep fried Snickers bars, and beer (you have to stay hydrated), the air fryer may be one of the healthiest appliances in your kitchen. Why? Because it’s an oven! Duh
 
America has to be the only country where we call things anything but what they are and honestly believe that just because we say so, it is so. Just as for instance, the entire world (the entire English speaking world) (and some parts that aren’t) calls the last letter of the English alphabet “zed.” Americans say “zee.” And do you know why? Well, come down memory lane with me.
 
Back in 1780-somethjng Wolfie Mozart penned a ditty to accompany the words to a French nursery rhyme, “Shall I Tell You Mother?” Of course it sounds better in French. Anyway, unless you are French you probably don’t know the nursery rhyme but you most certainly know the music. It’s the same tune as “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” and the same tune the Charles Bradlee, American, used as the music for “The Alphabet Song,” a most American phenomenon that taught little Americans their alphabet since 1835. If you’ve never heard it, the words are quite simple, they are basically the alphabet. Unfortunately the alphabet has only 28 syllables (w, remember) and the music had 14 notes remaining. Bradley filled them up with “Now I said my A B Cs, Next time won’t you sing with me.” Perhaps more unfortunately “me” does not rhyme with “zed.” No problem, he just changed the letter to “zee,” copyrighted his new work and Sesame Street had serious competition 76 years before it came to be. And you thought American arrogance was a modern phenomenon.
 
Now about that air fryer. Yes it and sir frying are healthy, or at least as healthy as baking or roasting. In other words, it, like a fryer, depends on what you put in it.
 
Tune in next week when we’ll discuss why the Department of the Interior is in charge of everything outdoors.
 
FrenchFries
 
 
 

Euphemistically Yours

Michael 2 Comments

I was going to write a light, breezy post about something humorous that happened to me. But all of that changed when I saw what was on my coffee table. Let me start in the middle. (The beginning would make this just WAAAAYYYYYYYY too long.) A couple of weeks ago I bought a new television. Sometime over the weekend I read the instruction manual. At least I got around to it eventually. Actually I didn’t get around to it. It somehow ended up on the table instead of the recycling bin and as I was walking it over to said bin it fell out of my hands and broke open. And that’s when I started reading.

At first I wasn’t sure I was really reading it. I thought that maybe I was having a dream but one of those dreams that is so lifelike that you wake up thinking that you really did just have lunch with Aunt Ella even though she died 12 years ago and even more that you don’t have an Aunt Ella. Now that’s a dream. But I thought that maybe that’s exactly what I was having because no company on Earth could actually put into writing what I was reading right there in black and white.

About halfway through the “IMPORTANT NOTICES” was, in bold letters, “End of Life Directives.” This is why I at first thought that I was having and/or had had a dream. And probably a bad dream. To someone who spent 40 years in health care, “End of Life” has a very specific meaning. Usually, no, always, end of life means someone’s life has ended. Died. Checked out. Kicked the bucket. 86’d on out of here. Gone. Never to return. Dead.

On top of it, I’ve spent the last few years in and out of hospitals where the first thing anybody asks (after “are you bleeding?”) is, “Do you have a living will or advance directives?” And just last week the dialysis clinic social worker brought to me a stack of papers to be signed for this year and at the top of the stack was a pre-formatted form labeled “End of Life Directives.”

So you can see why when I saw that associated with an Open Box Internet Special yet still over-priced television set I thought I was hallucinating. Or at the very least way past my bedtime. We have enough things that are challenged, sufficient opportunities, plenty of stuff that is deprived, depressed or disadvantaged, that we don’t need to borrow an actual sentiment to be euphemistic for something that really doesn’t need to be spoken of gently.

Exactly what is this “end of life” that the manufacturers of electronic components are afraid to call a spade? Apparently, as I learned upon further reading, it’s when the TV has reached the end of its usefulness to me and the manufacturer wants to make me aware that there are environmentally responsible means of disposal that are at my umm, disposal.

I know it’s terribly politically incorrect to call a shovel a shovel but hasn’t the need to call everything anything but whatever thing it is gone too far now? We can’t even put in an instruction manual that this thing you just bought might break, fail, quit, or stop working. We have to speak gently so that if you actually paid full price for the item you won’t file an wrongful breakdown suit against the manufacturer. Bull shit. It will break and when it does either recycle it or throw it away. Those are your choices. Directives or not.

But if I should happen to outlive the newest electronic member of my family I will be certain to dispose of it in a responsible and thoughtful manner. I’ll hold a respectful gathering of its friends, we’ll have a non-denominational service with a few of the other appliances offering their thoughts and best wishes for the survivors and afterwards some light refreshments and fellowship. We will then gently load the life-challenged inanimate object into the back of my pre-hybrid automobile, drive several times around the county looking for a recycling center that accepts electronics, pay $1 per pound or $45 per dropoff whichever is less, and then hightail it back home. In air-conditioned comfort.

California will be proud.

That’s what I think. Really. How ‘bout you?