So I’m doing my research and don’t I run across several websites and blogs that go on rants about how modern slang is being appropriated and—as a result—un-cooled by soccer moms everywhere. Okay, I’m no longer officially a “soccer mom”—LOVED those days—but I can still say that my feelings are hurt. And I feel something of a retort rant coming on.
I like my words, peeps!!!!! Love them, in fact. I want access to all of them, not just a select few that were coined in “my time”. I want to diss, to be down, to lurk. I want random experiences and stellar calls. I want to wear bling (only sometimes). I want to feel stoked or psyched or pumped (well, okay, maybe not so much, but I want to reserve the right!).
I remember when I was in my mid-twenties having a rare argument with dear friends when they took the outrageous—to me—stance that rockers like the Stones should pack it in in their forties (their FORTIES!) because rock was for young people only. I would have thought that this ‘tude was outdated until I watched a recent episode of The Debaters (a Canadian show where comedians are given two different sides of an argument to debate). The subject was the same: should old rockers “be allowed” to rock, or should they pack it in. Obviously I’m of the mindset that if someone wants to do something—and what’s more, possesses the talent for it—they should bloody well keep doing it, regardless of age.
Same with the language thing. I get that appropriating language from the streets or from younger generations can make you look like you’re “trying too hard” or like a fool (worse, if you use the word incorrectly—remember “foshizzle”? Did anyone use that one properly???). But I’m telling you now: I want those words!!!! I want all of them. You throw something cool and exciting and fresh into the mix, I want to get my hands on it. Or my mouth, as it were (or does that sound creepy?). Anyway, my point is the same. Don’t release a nugget into the word-o-sphere and then get all greedy and selfish about it.
Tell you what: if you give me “dippin” (for, you know, when I want to leave a party and have to grab Phil’s arm and say, “Hey honey, we’re dippin’,” you know stuff like that), then I’ll give you “malarkey” (hey, it’s an evocative word and really should be brought back).
Deb: Barb, you my girl are the cat’s meow! I agree with you 100%. I too love me some words and I will say anything I damn well please. And like you, I may just bring back “23 skiddoo” and “oh you kid”. But I do think that each generation feels that they own their own slang and hipisms and they do and they should. Me, I’m just a random happy camper. Where’s the beef? I don’t know. Don’t think there is one. After all ... love means never having to say you’re sorry.