Brave New Words

Do our meet-ups in Jesusland give us douche chills? The ADS thinks so.

by Trish Boppert

Modern life is moving faster than ever, and so are the words we use to describe it. American English continually evolves. New words appear regularly, and old words are made fresh when used in new ways. Like mayflies, some such words or phrases last but a day, while others take hold and stick around for a while.

It's hard to predict the staying power of new words (or new ways of using old words), but every year, the American Dialect Society (ADS) gives it a shot anyway. In early January, its members meet to vote on member-nominated words that are newly prominent (but not necessarily coined in the preceding year). One entry is voted Word of the Year. For last year, the overall winner was "red state, blue state, purple state," and if you've never heard of "purple state," you're not alone. Call me an illiterate "flip-flopper" (another Word of the Year nomination), but I'd neither read nor heard the phrase "purple state" until the ADS announcement. (Nor had anyone else I asked, though, admittedly, I only asked six people.)

The annual list is always eclectic, as you'd expect from a group of folks who hold "meet-ups" (a local special-interest meeting organized through a national Web site, nominated as the new word Most Likely to Succeed) at which they gas on about phrases like "lawn mullet" (a yard neatly mowed in the front but unmowed in the back) and words like "nerdvana" (geeks really geeking out; collaborative geekiness). So, if reading the list of winners of the American Dialect Society's Words of the Year vote gave you "douche chills" (nominated for "most outrageous," it is, says the ADS, an "interjection used to break a sudden silence after a verbal faux pas," though it can also describe one's reaction to dealing with a "douchebag," below), you probably don't live in "Jesusland" (noun describing what's left of the United States after blue states secede and join Canada), where the word "douche" is followed only by the word "bag" and is used to describe anyone who thinks the sanctity of marriage will be irreparably damaged if same-sex adults are granted the right to consensual sex in the privacy of their Texas homes.

And no longer, according to the ADS, is "santorum" simply the name of the Republican senator who infamously stated that granting such rights to homosexuals is equivalent to granting heterosexuals the right to start humping every blood relative, man, woman — or multiples thereof — and child in sight. (Except U.S. Sen. Rick Santorum used the words "bigamy, polygamy, incest," and "adultery.") According to the ADS, Santorum may go down in history for more than his political record now that his last name (voted Most Outrageous Word of 2004) has become a noun used to describe "the frothy residue of lube and fecal matter that sometimes is the result of anal sex."

"FLOHPA" was voted Least Likely to Succeed, and it's easy to see why. The noun describes the collective states of Florida, Ohio and Pennsylvania, said to have been important in last year's presidential election. Besides sounding like a disease one gets from unwanted sexual contact with a rapacious bigamist who makes his wives (all 47 of them) call him "Pa," it's unlikely to be used anytime other than a presidential election with similar voting patterns.

"Hillbilly armor" (scavenged materials used by soldiers for improvised bullet-proofing and vehicle-hardening, especially in Iraq) was nominated for Most Creative, while "angel" (a soldier killed in action) was nominated Most Euphemistic. Thus, the "backdoor draft" (nominated for Most Useful) resulted in the deaths of far too many "angels," due to the flimsy "hillbilly armor" on which they were forced to rely.

Getting back to "douche chills": Jeez, if only Santorum had known about it in time to deflect the negative press engendered by his comments about gay sex.

Trish Boppert is a Philadelphia-based freelance writer. If you would like to respond to this Slant or have one of your own (650 words), contact Duane Swierczynski, City Paper, 123 Chestnut St., Third Floor, Phila., Pa., 19106 or e-mail Duane Swierczynski.