Leigh's Linguistic Revolution

To celebrate the almost-semi-quincentennial birthday (yes, that is the correct word), of the greatest country ever, and as a fairly old person who works hard to use a full spice rack of words for a living, Leigh is hereby declaring independence from modern verbal atrocities. So, to this, I say...

When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one satirist to dissolve the overused bonds of linguistic minimalism and assume, among the powers of the English language, the separate and elevated station to which erudite vocabulary entitles us, a decent respect to the intelligible opinions of mankind requires we should declare some words that we shall henceforth reject.

We hold these overused truths to be self-evident and also to be hyperbolic nonsense:

• Procuring a parking spot under a tree at San Gabriel park on the 4th of July is not EPIC. How 'bout we dial it down, Achilles. You beat a minivan, not a Minotaur.

• In truth I mean to separate myself from tyranny like “it was LITERALLY the best day of my life.” Was it though, Karen? I'm sure the first day of pumpkin spice latte was pretty great, but did Adam Levine bring it to you on your wedding day in your new Escalade and Instagram selfies of the two of you singing together at the reception?

• I hereby decree that PERFECT is an appropriate response only for sunsets, newborns, and Jesus—not from the appointment setter at the doctor’s office, and certainly not from every customer service rep who proclaims it, in that wee patronizing tone, when I successfully recite my own contact information. Seriously, Janine. Just say, “Okay, got it.” I didn't split an atom. You’re just confirming I haven’t forgotten my zip code.

• From thence, we shall reclaim the original social order from the Gen Alpha sluggards and express all necessary reticence regarding the emergent SIGMA. I say—with some irony—that Alpha *types* shall lead, Beta shall support, and Sigma, despite all efforts to appear cool, aloof, and mysterious, shall be metaphorically shoved in a locker by the former two for refusing to participate in the collaborative project then acting superior about it, because... “groupthink”.

And so, Patriots, in the spirit of our forebears who tossed tea into harbors and wore wool in July without complaint, I hereby declare my glorious rebellion from the tyranny of trend-speak, word inflation, and the dopamine-starved yapping of thumb warriors whose entire vocabulary has been reduced to “sus,” “slay,” and the occasional emoji that somehow conveys both sarcasm and pseudo-existential angst.

Let it be known that, in this Leighverse, I do not slay I do not stan. And unless I am actually questioning my humble place in the vast, unknowable universe from the rim of the Grand Canyon, reflecting on my son's grasp of the Gospel, or watching a bald eagle snatch a salmon mid-flight while a choir sings, I will not use AWESOME. Phyllis, your charcuterie board was delightful but it did not fill my soul with awe.

We the people once learned language, civics, and good sense on sacred Saturday mornings from cheerful cartoon singers in powdered wigs. A bill sat patiently on Capitol Hill waiting to become a law, we learned why three is a magic number, there's never been a planet Janet hasn't seen, and verbs were what's happ'nin.

And for the support of this Glorious Rebellion, with a firm reliance on the wisdom of our elders and the enduring spirit of Schoolhouse Rock, I pledge to you my Eye Rolls, my Rhetorical Snobbery, and my Sacred Vocabulary. Though some may say this rebellion is about semantics, let the record show: words still mean things, and if we stop caring about that, we might as well communicate with emojis and interpretive dance. As for me and my mouth, we will serve the syntax.

Signed with excessive flourish,

First of Her Name, Breaker of Buzzwords, Defender of Context, High Priestess of the Grammar Police, Mistress of the Rolled Eye, and Honorary Chairwoman of the Society for the Preservation of SAT Vocabulary