Let’s hear it, folks, for sesquipedalian verbiage
Some of my oldest readers (make that “readers of longest standing”) occasionally gripe that they can’t wade through my literary brainburps without the help of a dictionary or an obliging English major.
They do, however, continue to read, bless their masochistic hearts – and their loyalty eases the pain inflicted on me by occasional critics.
One of these assailants compared me to the Marquis de Sade, who found pleasure in the discomfort of others and lent his name to the practice of sadism.
While resolutely denying any ambition to be the father of a misanthropic style called klockism, I freely confess to prodding people away from the boring, repetitive, colorless, non-challenging blather which dominates too many contemporary vocabularies. (I mean, really – y’know what I’m sayin?’)
OK, OK, I am an incurable linguaphile, and have been a lover of words since “see Dick, see Dick run” introduced me to the wonder-filled world of written communication.
Is there a tinge of snobbery involved therein? Mebbe so.
In the musical which bore her name, Mary Poppins admitted that failing most eloquently, to wit:
“Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious! Even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious.
If you say it loud enough, you’ll always sound precocious. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!”
Now, I ask you, friend, isn’t that a cut or five above such mundane mutterings as great, super, terrific, and even the current standby of our teenfolk, “awesome?”
I’ll grant you that, like scratching wherever it itches, there are limited times and places for the use of sesquipedalian verbiage (words a foot and a half long, in case you didn’t already know that), but unless they are used strictly to intimidate, show off or lend gravitas to snow jobs, they can be valuable tools in the accurate exchange of thoughts, ideas and feelings.
If, for example, pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoniosis were to cause your death, would you settle for a bland obituary attributing it simply to a form of lung disease? (Not a thing to die for, sez I.)
That impressive “p” word just above, incidentally, nudged antidisestablishmentarianism from the top spot on the totem pole of big words in our language, and although I don’t foresee a place for it in everyday small talk, I stoutly defend its right to inclusion in the lexicon.
Aside: If you think that “a” word, also just above, has no practical use in real life, consider the fact that the late Professor Backwards (a.k.a. James Edmondson, Sr.) made a good living in vaudeville years ago, in part by not only spelling it in reverse, but also pronouncing it thataway. (It is little known that he was posthumously awarded a Tenth Degree Black Belt in Scrabble.)
Bottom line of the foregoing and ensuing floccinaucinihilipilification (you can either look it up or accept my explanation that it means a relatively worthless bit of fluff) is this:
Words are assets too precious and potentially fun-filled to be hidden behind a dung-heap of drivel or buried in a pile of pedestrian prattle.
Such is the humdrum dumbstuff which pollutes the air and airwaves around us every day, instead of warming our globe with inspiration, education and an occasional giggle – of all of which we are in increasing need.
Seriously, guys and gals (if it’s not too late for that in this rambling rant), I don’t apologize for challenging the minds of my readers and sending them on periodic safaris in their reference material.
Much too much of our communicating these days has become the verbal equivalent of rubber stamps, dumbed-down dialogue and spoken soporificity (there’s a fiftycenter, eh?)
I champion here the causes of variety, excitement, color and creativity in our communication skills, one of the few behavioral attributes in which we surpass the animal world. (Duplicity and bullscat being two others that spring to mind).
A final note, with thanks to you who have not dozed off or moved on to other pursuits:
Mary Poppins added this further contribution to the art of communication – and I quote her verbatim:
“Um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay, um diddle diddle diddle um diddle ay!”
Granted, that may not make much sense or contribute a lot to interpersonal understanding, but neither does I mean, really, awesome, and the other current cliches.
If and when I figure out how to weave it into casual parlance, the word will come forth – more likely fifth at the earliest – in a future column.
Meanwhile, y’know what I’m sayin’ – at least most of the time?
Freelance wordworker Joe Klock Sr. ([email protected]) winters in Key Largo and Coral Gables, Florida and summers in New Hampshire. More of his “Klockwork” can be found at www.joeklock.com.
