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1950. By that time, Madison Avenue had learned well how to manipulate the language, and the same condition became operational exhaustion. It had been stretched out to eight syllables. It took longer to say, so the impact was reduced, and the humanity was completely squeezed out of the term. It was now absolutely sterile: operational exhaustion. It sounded like something that might happen to your car.
    And then, finally, we got to Vietnam. Given the dishonesty surrounding that war, I guess it’s not surprising that, at the time, the very same condition was renamed post-traumatic stress disorder. It was still eight syllables, but a hyphen had been added, and, at last, the pain had been completely buried under psycho-jargon. Post-traumatic stress disorder.
    I’d be willing to bet anything that if we’d still been calling it shell shock, some of those Vietnam veterans might have received the attention they needed, at the time they needed it. But it didn’t happen, and I’m convinced one of the reasons was that softer language we now prefer: The New Language. The language that takes the life out of life. More to come.
    ELEGY FOR “MILLENNIUM”
    You don’t hear the word millennium much anymore, do you? It’s kind of sad. Here’s a word that lies around for long periods of time looking for work, but never really doing very much. Then, every thousand years, things suddenly pick up and there’s a flurry of activity. The word is on everyone’s lips, and is heard in almost every conversation. It stays red-hot for several years, enjoying its popularityseeing its name in newspapers and magazines, making appearances on radio and TV. But then a peak is reached, and, after a while, things begin to slow down. The activity tapers off, and before long, it’s once again relegated to history books, academic journals and reference works. Goodbye, poor millennium. I’m going to miss you. When you return, I may not be here to welcome you back.
    WHO, ME? HATE?
    I saw two bumper stickers on a car: HATE IS NOT A FAMILY VALUE and VALUE ALL FAMILIES. What is the purpose of having things like this on your car? Certainly it’s not to change someone else’s opinion of family life at a red light. More likely, the purpose is to inform us that the driver doesn’t hate anyone, and that he considers himself pure and virtuous and better than the rest of us. So it’s actually self-righteousness. The driver apparently forgot that the seven deadly sins include both anger and pride.
    JACKO BEATS THEM ALL
    I don’t care if Michael Jackson freaked off with little boys or not. It doesn’t bother me. Fuck those kids. And fuck their greedy parents too. What’s important to me is that Michael is the greatest entertainer who ever lived. Bar none. Watch him dance; pay attention to the showmanship. No one ever came close.
    Elvis was a bogus white guy with sex appeal and good looks who ripped off a lot of great black music, watered it down, and made it safe for lame whites who couldn’t handle the experience of raw, emotional black music. Never grew as an artist; remained an entertainer. Fuck Elvis.
    Sammy Davis Jr.? Nice try. Ordinary dancer, ordinary singer, second-rate impressionist. I also didn’t like the insincere sincerity. But he was a nice man, personally; I give him credit for that.
    Frank Sinatra? Great singer of songs, among the best. Superb musician. Grew as an artist. No showmanship, though. Arrogant, too. And mean to ordinary people. Fuck him.
    Michael Jackson buries them all. I say give him a bunch of kids and let him dance.
    LET’S GET REAL, HERE
    I’ve decided to cash in on TVs reality-show trend. I have several ideas, but they may need some work before I approach the networks. Here’s what I’m working on:
    ISLAND CUISINE
    This idea grew out of Survivor, but I have a new twist: You put twelve people on a barren island, and you let them starve to death. You make sure they get no food, but you provide plenty of fresh drinking wateryou