Those Stupid, Icky Adjectives

They're overused, presumptuous, disingenuous, pretentious, rhetorical...

Even though I use them all the time, I don’t like adjectives. I read them and say, “I’ll be the judge of that!” You say the forest is “enchanted,” but that’s just your opinion. Beautiful princess, eh? My idea of beautiful is not the same as most people’s. I like princesses with big noses and husky shoulders. When I read “beautiful,” I picture some anorexic supermodel with bleached blonde hair and too much makeup. Just the kind of chick I would toss out of bed and take the Saltines away from.

“Magical” is another one. Magic is okay, but not magical. The former is David Blayne’s milieu, the latter is woo-woo bullshit. I like it when a writer uses a noun/verb combination as a verb: “He ate fish himself to death.” But “there was something fishy about his death.” Nuh-uh! Bad adjective!

Adjectives like gloomy or weird are fine. But sepulcheral or phantasmagorical… Nah!

“Show, don’t tell,” they always say. That doesn’t mean send me a dick pic but “hung like a horse” doesn’t impress me. It could be a very dwarfish, diminutive, Lilliputian pony, for all I know. (I guess teenie weenie would have sufficed.)

Flavorful, aromatic, savory—too vague. I’m sure, to a dog, rotten clams could be described that way. That doesn’t mean I want to eat them.

A little off topic: If I’m living in a manger, and I just gave birth to the son of God, and three “wise” kings show up with frankincense and myrrh, I’d be like, “Thanks, we could really use some tortillas and carne asada! What are we gonna do with this shit?” Wise, my ass. Another adjective that, without an understanding of “impoverished” or “starving,” has little meaning.

“Even educated, scholarly, erudite, are of no use to me when I’m choosing a family to reincarnate into. I’ll take the Mexican couple who can feed their entire family on $12 a week. Your IQ doesn’t mean a thing. Unless you can whip up a pot of Pythagorean stew with a hypotenuse leg and a slice of pi for dessert, you’re just another dumbshit with a private parking space on campus as far as I’m concerned.

Worldly, multicultural, bilingual, could mean you’re the Ambassador to Mauritius; an international drug smuggler; or an immigrant farm worker. I’m reminded of the song that goes:
“Do your ears hang low, do they wobble to and fro, can you tie them in a knot, can you tie them in a bow. Can you throw them over your shoulder like a continental soldier…” I’ve never seen any soldier throw his ears over his shoulder. What they meant was: “…can you throw them over your shoulder like a continental soldier [would do with his scarf.”]

So the song is completely nonsensical. I’m removing it from the set list and replacing it with “Alouette, Gentille Alouette” even though I don’t particularly care for antisemitic cheese.

Patient. A good doctor has a lot of patience. I’m having some work done at the hospital. They said it’ll be an in-patient procedure. I’m like, “Woah, why are you so impatient! Take your time, do it right! I’m in no hurry, I’ll be sedated. That’s 3 hours of my life I don’t have to endure. Take all the time you need!”

Aged. Is it Ayjd, or Ay-jid? One is good for cheese or wine, the other would not make a good goalie for your soccer team.

Learned. Is it Lurnd, or lurn-id? “Hey mom! Look what I lurnid at school today!” “Dear god, please tell me it wasn’t English!”

Other adjectives that rub me wrong.

Pithy. I just doesn’t sound good. What does a pith helmet protect your head from?

Fecund. Ew, just ew.

Impish. There’s a reason we never use the variation “impy.”

Moist. Yes, you want a cake to be moist, but it’s too close to damp, dewey, mildewy, murky, soggy, swampy, moldy, yech!

Pubescent. I know it’s the correct suffix for things that end in e but it brings the smell of pubes to mind so can’t we just call it pubey? Ah, that’s no better. Can’t we just go straight from childhood to adulthood?

Childish or childlike? Why is one inappropriate and the other endearing?

And don’t get me started on my two least favorite adjectives: Good and Bad.

A good mass murderer kills the most people, right? A bad liar can be trusted, no?

In an old episode of “I Love Lucy” they hire an English teacher who tells them there are two words they should never say. One is “swell” and the other is “lousy.” So Fred says, “Tell us the swell one first, and then the lousy one.”