When a Spade is not a Spade

Of the many things I loathe, abominate, hate, abhor, despise, and generally dislike, forced euphemisms are high on the list. What is there about human nature that we go to such astonishing lengths to avoid calling a spade a spade? I know that probably sounds odd coming from someone who is so disassociated from reality as I, but there are limits, even for me.

My cat, Crickett, is nearing the end of her days. I know it and, damn the concept of “pathetic fallacy”, I believe she knows it, too. She is now between 16 and 17 years old and has developed cancer at the site of a rabies injection. (I was not aware of it, but the vet says this is very common in both cats and dogs, and for that reason she avoids giving rabies shots whenever possible.) Once well rounded and sleek, Crickett is now little more than skin, bones, and fur, though I feed her a special high-calorie cat food and baby food, and have started giving her the same Boost-type supplement on which I largely subsist. I also give her two drops of pain medication every three days, on the vet’s orders. To me, the most solid evidence I have that she is aware of something is that for the first time in her life, she has taken to lying in my lap while I am watching TV at night. She is not dead yet, but already I grieve for her.

I hate to think that she is in pain, though she surely must be. She has developed a very noticeable limp on her left rear thigh, but she still lies down on that side. It is the matter of degree of her discomfort that I do not know and which bothers me the most. A friend asked if I would consider “putting her to sleep,” a euphemism even more objectionable than “putting her down”. I said no, I would not consider killing her…which is Realspeak for the euphemisms…unless and until I had evidence of real pain, which I do not have at the moment.

Our society has always used euphemisms for death. “He passed away.,” “He crossed over”. Bullshit! He died! I understand that some people find comfort in them, but come on…! (And I'm the one with reality problems?)

Anything relating to sex has, especially in America, been neatly coated in euphemisms. The 1953 movie, The Moon is Blue, is the first time the word “pregnant” was ever spoken in an American film? Throughout our history, women were never pregnant. They were “with child” or “in a family way” or “expecting.”

Euphemisms do have some benefit in providing a buffer for words which could well be considered cruel. Thus overweight people were not called “fat,” but “big-boned” or “hefty” or “zoftig.” “Obese” and “morbidly obese” only came along later, as political correctness began to take over our culture.

Today, however, being “politically correct” has gone beyond all logic; euphemisms are spreading into every area of society like germs in a sneeze. People are no longer deaf or blind. They are “hearing impaired” or “visually impaired.” Short people are no longer short, they are “height challenged.” Governments are particularly fond of euphemisms, apparently in hopes that the public is too stupid to know what the pretty words really mean. In war, the slaughter of innocent civilians during an air strike is merely “collateral damage.” Foes are not assassinated, they are “terminated with extreme prejudice.” Criminals are no longer suspects, they are “persons of interest.” And the list goes on to and beyond the horizon.

Like fire, euphemisms make a good servant but a bad master. We could use a few more servants and far fewer masters.

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