Why do we so easily accept words and phrases that inaccurately, but perhaps more pleasantly, describe less-than-pleasant things or concepts or actions? While some euphemisms are relatively innocuous (water closet instead of toilet; passed away instead of died), many are far more insidious. Why has it been so easy for organizations such as the Pentagon and corporations to make up jargon to explain, or to explain away, their unethical, dishonest, greedy actions? I am sick to death of it, and the connection between Republican talking points and corporate talking points is like white on rice. Must be because the connection between Republican power and corporate power is equally inseparable.

When did this crap start? When did we begin to allow such dishonesty in our public discourse, and in our corporate-speak? Immanuel Kant said, “Honesty is better than any policy,” but we surely don’t seem to believe that, in either the political arena or the military-industrial complex.
The one that always makes me want to throw a brick through my teevee machine is “friendly fire.” I remember there was a made-for-TV movie with that title, starring Carol Burnett, when I was a kid, and that was the first time I heard the phrase. WTF are we thinking when we allow the military to cover up its mistakes with this crap? It’s not just innocuous-sounding, it almost sounds…well…friendly. Like a sociable gathering around some flaming logs, with marshmallows and hot chocolate. Why don’t we insist on calling what it is: a major fuck-up that killed our own people? Or take “collateral damage.” Yes, it can refer to the destruction of buildings and other infrastructure, as a result of bombing or other war activities, but it also refers to the killing of innocent civilians. Or the popular, “non-operative personnel.” In other words, dead soldiers. How much less tolerant would we be of the actions taken by our government if we named these actions accurately? I think the American people would be much more outraged if they heard honest language regarding the results of war, and if they saw the flag-draped coffins coming back home, containing the bodies of those “non-operative personnel.” And apparently, “peace” has become a dirty word, with almost a reverse euphemism used for that, as if military personnel are afraid to speak it, for fear that people might decide it’s a good idea. Instead, they use the twisted permanent pre-hostility. Let’s start calling these things what they are, starting with the Department of War, currently known as the Department of Defense. If we had a Department of Peace, maybe we’d be more intentional about seeking it and working towards it. And getting rid of the useless, clueless, unelected George W. Bush, and his Orwellian outlook (remember “When we’re talkin’ about war, we’re really talkin’ about peace” idiocy?) will be a step in the right direction.

In corporate America, I listen to euphemisms every day. We accept “downsizing” because it doesn’t sound nearly as bad as putting people out of work in order to have a positive impact on the bottom line. They say, “You need to be a team player,” and they mean, “You need to kiss up to the folks in certain positions on the org chart.” They say, “You need to see the big picture,” and they mean, “Accept the fact that management is always right, and you, the employee, are always wrong.” “Keep the lines of communication open” should be heard as, “Work under the kindergarten, tattletale mentality, and rat out your co-workers so we can limit their pay. If you don’t it’s YOUR pay that will be limited since we won’t know who else to blame.” Corporations also use the reverse euphemism. Unable to call a pay bump a “raise,” since it really is not anything close to a real increase in what one takes home on one’s paycheck, they call it “an opportunity for a monetary increase” which, if it happens, is on paper only.
Then of course we have the out-and-out whoredom of the mainstream media, and particularly the shills at Fox. E.D. Hill’s questioning whether the Barack/Michelle affectionate fist-bump were really a ‘terrorist fist jab’ is just one small example; I won’t go into some of the vile filth spewed by the likes of Limbaugh, O’Reilly, Hannity, Coulter, Ingraham, et al.

In the political sphere, and also in the corporate world, I think the non-apology apology is one of the most egregious misuses of language. News flash, folks: “I’m sorry you feel that way” and “I’m sorry IF anyone was offended by _____” are not apologies. At best, they are acknowledgements of the feelings of some other person or group of people; at worst, they are accusations that the person or group of people is too thin-skinned.
Any time I hear that kind of phrasing coming out of someone’s mouth, whether that of a politician, or the tender-toed, territorial twit who happens to be my boss, my estimation of that person tanks, big time. It’s part of what sunk Hillary Clinton as a presidential candidate for whom I could have respect.

Let’s bring back some honesty in our language. If the words and phrases we use make us uncomfortable, it’s probably because they are supposed to. We should not be comfortable with our soldiers killing our own. We should not be comfortable with companies running GDP into the ground by limiting the purchasing power of American consumers.
We should not be comfortable with the deaths of innocent civilians in a war we shouldn’t be fighting.
Call things what they are.

I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around the "gay marriage threatens 'traditional' marriage" meme.

OK, I confess...I AM divorced. From Husband #1. But that divorce was in 1981, long before same-sex marriage was legalized anywhere in the United States. So golly, what happened?
I'll tell you what: physical abuse threatens marriage. Emotional and psychological abuse threatens marriage. That's what happened to me. Abuse that was never acknowledged by my ex; never dealt with, admitted, apologized for, or STOPPED.
We tried, mind you...or I should say, I tried. I took my marriage vows seriously. When I said, "For better, for worse...'til death do us part..." I meant it. I admit, it hadn't even occurred to me at the time that my death might be a lot more imminent than I thought. It never occurred to me that my husband (who had sworn to love, honor, yadda yadda yadda) might try to do me in within a week or so of having taken that vow. When he told me he planned to be a triple-A husband, little did I suspect that meant Abusive Alcoholic Asshole. So when the drinking and the violence started, I insisted on counseling. I tried to keep it together. I tried to be the understanding wife.

I'm far from a perfect human, God knows. I know I have my flaws. But I don't think ANY person deserves to have the kitchen table overturned on top of him/her, for having forgotten to put the milk on the table at supper. I don't think ANY person deserves to be dragged down the hall of the marriage therapist's office by the hair, being kicked in the back at the same time. I don't think ANY person deserves to be called vicious names; to be accused of non-existent infidelity; to have dishes flung at one's head; to be verbally and emotionally and physically battered.
So yeah, abuse threatens marriage.

Here's what else can threaten a marriage:
Chronic or serious illness. The death of a child. Addiction. Financial worries. Unemployment. Infidelity. Just to name a few...

I've had some experience with a couple of these, too. I've been married to my second husband for almost 24 years now, and we've faced money problems, life-threatening illness, and the death of our firstborn. That last was probably the toughest thing any parent can face; we lost our beloved daughter to a drunk driver, just a few months before she would have wed the father of her two young children. At least she wouldn't have been denied that right, had she lived...we wouldn't have had to fight for her to be able to do that.

We've been lucky. We've managed to survive those potential threats, and have worked at growing stronger as a couple as a result of those challenges.
But same-sex marriage? Holy shit, that's not even on the RADAR as a potential cause for a split. How the hell could it be? How can the thought of a same-sex couple wanting to commit to one another in a lifetime of monogamous fidelity possibly threaten our marriage, or that of anyone else?
Rather, does it not uphold marriage as the ideal? Does it not say, that's the brass ring...that's the ultimate commitment goal...that's what many loving couples want to publicly declare?
Granted, not every opposite-sex couple choose to marry, nor should they be forced to. I'm sure there are same-sex couples who feel the same way, whether out of fear of commitment, not wanting to 'mess up a good thing,' the costs involved, the legal hoops to jump through, or whatever. But for those who DO want a public, legal, recognized marriage, why the hell should they be denied that? If they are adults, why can't they enter into that contract with one another? And why can't it be a marriage, just like any other?
I'm sorry to hear that there are some folks out there whose marriages are on such shaky ground that the thought of another couple wanting that same level of commitment would destroy their legal relationship. Must have built that house on sand, eh?
I'm happy to say that my feet, and my husband's, are on pretty solid rock. Our marriage has not always been smooth sailing, and if we live long enough, we may yet hit stormy seas. But I am confident that, should we ever face a serious threat to our closing-on-a-quarter-century marriage, it WON'T be because Adam and Steve, or Ada and Eve, decided they want the same level of legal and social recognition for their relationship that we all too often take for granted.

For those who want to 'preserve marriage':
Support equal pay for equal work.
Support stronger families, of ALL kinds. (Real 'family values' means valuing all families. Honest.)
Work to end poverty.
Work for full employment.
Work to end disease.
Work to end abuse.
Work to overcome addiction.
But please DON'T tell me that love isn't love. Don't tell me that the gay couple down the street, who may have been together even longer than you and your spouse, are not entitled to marry. Don't tell me that the lesbian couple whose kids attend your kids' school, aren't a 'real' family.
It IS a civil rights issue. And America should be at the forefront of the movement to grant those rights to all its citizens, not playing catch-up.

In case you missed it, here it is: (I'm so excited! I just wish they were not going to print a picture with it *lol* I'm not terribly photogenic!)

I grew up in about as stereotypical a Midwestern white middle class household as one can imagine. My dad worked, and my mom was a full-time stay-home mom, as were most of the moms of my friends, with a few schoolteachers and nurses as exceptions here and there. We were not rich, but we were very comfortable. We had everything we needed, and much of what we wanted. We knew our neighbors, not just next door, but for blocks in any direction. Any kid with a scraped knee could knock on any door around and find a mom with a bandaid, a mom who knew your name and knew your parents and with whose kids you played and went to birthday parties (in those days, with the little girls wearing white gloves and party dresses, and the boys in dress pants and bow ties, believe it or not...)
With the exception of a few college students from other nations, and ONE black family who had emigrated from what was then Rhodesia, it was a totally white community.
Daddy was a Lutheran minister, and at that time, a campus pastor at a small church college. I was fortunate to have some exposure to those foreign students, when my parents hosted dinner parties: from Jordan, from Tanzania, from what was then Formosa...and to that black family, who lived just down the block and who were members of our church. I went to school with the three children, and my parents and theirs became good friends.
I remember in those days seeing images on television of the strife in the south, of Bull Connor and the police dogs and the fire hoses. I could not feel the sting of the streams of water, nor the hot breath of the dogs, nor the nip of their sharp teeth. But I could see the fear in the faces of those being targeted by that vicious and evil form of domestic terrorism. I could see the hatred in the eyes of the dog handlers. I could hear the screams of the victims. And it made me terrified too. I could not understand how such things could happen in MY COUNTRY. I remember being in Georgia with my family, when I was about ten years old. We were in a shopping center in Atlanta, and had stopped to rest on some benches in an area near some restrooms. I went to use the restroom, and as I came out, there was a little black girl standing near the water fountain between the men's and the women's restrooms. She was perhaps two or three years younger than I. She called me "Ma'am." She asked if she could get a drink at the fountain. I thought she was too little to reach it, so, as kids do, I hoisted her 'round the middle and boosted her up to get a drink. She shyly thanked me, and called me "Ma'am" again. When I got back to the bench where my parents were sitting, my dad had the oddest look on his face, as though he were about to cry. He asked me about the exchange with the little girl, and I explained that she needed a drink and couldn't reach the fountain. He in turn explained that she was probably just as capable as I of reaching the fountain, and that she was really asking if she were ALLOWED to drink from it. It hit me all at once: this was connected to those damn dogs and those damn fire hoses, and to the hatred, and to the fear. And I understood that this beautiful little girl, only a couple of years younger than I, had called me "Ma'am" simply because I was white.
My dad was very active in the civil rights movement, and did some work with Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I did not remember the extent of that involvement, having been only two or three myself, when dad invited Dr. King to be the keynote speaker/preacher at a national gathering of Lutheran youth in Miami, Florida, in 1962. It was years before I understood how much Dad had stuck his neck out, as the then-director of the ALC (American Lutheran Church) Youth Office in Minneapolis, to extend that invitation. But as I got older, and as we went to marches and rallies, and as we continued to do so after Dr. King's assassination, I began to get a wonderful and solid sense of my dad's stance on issues of civil rights and social justice. And I clearly understood his work in the context of Christian community: we were against war BECAUSE we were Christian. We were in favor of equal rights under the law BECAUSE we were Christian. And our fellow church members, and my dad's colleagues at the college, were involved in the same efforts for the same reason.
Yesterday morning, at 7:00 am, when I entered my polling place to cast my ballot, I was voting for my dad as well as for myself. He didn't live to see this day, but he would be SO PROUD. And last night, as I was alone at home, watching the election coverage, and texting updates to my husband and my daughter, who were together in Minneapolis (at the Bob Dylan concert!), I was thinking of him, and of how far we have come as a nation. As I watched the celebrations across the country and across the globe, I thought back to those horrendous images of the dogs and the hoses and the hatred. And then I watched the contrasting images I was seeing on my screen on this historic night. I was not in Grant Park, but I could see the elation and pride and hope on the faces of those who were there: black and white and Asian, young and old. I could hear the shouts of joy! I could feel the winds of change, from my distant lonely living room Minnesota, and I was proud, so proud...This one's for you, Daddy...and for Dr. Martin, and for Schwerner, Goodman and Cheney, for Medgar Evers and Rosa Parks and Robert F. Kennedy...and for my kids and my grandkids...for our nation and our planet.
We've come a long way, and we have yet a long way to travel. But we are traveling TOGETHER. And we have hope. And we will get there.