Conversation Crutches

Conversation among Americans is crippled. Too much of our daily discourse requires crutches to get along. We must either resort to designated translators like the UN uses or learn to speak a new tongue that’s demonstrably different from plain English. At risk of being tagged a grammar snob or simply an old poop who just doesn’t get it, I’ve decided to explore this element of our current culture in a public forum.  Because I can, that’s why.

At the time of which I speak, I was seated comfortably near a cold beer in one of my favorite local taverns. Reuben, an outgoing and jovial mixologist, brought over a young man who he introduced as a recent arrival in our small town. He was a mid-20s solid-looking guy, not overly interested in the ballgame playing on TV, so I deemed it only polite to strike up a conversation. “What brings you here?” I twirled a finger to indicate I meant the town rather than the bar. This is what I heard, and it’s verbatim to the best of my recollection.

“Yeah, so me and the wife, we’re like looking around for someplace to settle at, y’know?  And so, she’s like we should look here and I was like…cool, y’know?  We cruised and I was like Boom! And she goes Dude, this is it.”

It’s tough trying to punctuate something like that but hopefully you’ll grasp the tone and tenor of the brief conversation. I’d have elicited more but there’s only so much vandalizing of the language that I can…like, tolerate.

Why it’s necessary to draw verbal imagery with the term like is beyond me. Is it a lack of sufficient vocabulary needed to simply say that something resembles something else? Or is it merely an attempt to give the speaker instant rapport with the listener by eliciting a similarity between what a person feels or observes and what he or she expects that listener will understand? It’s as if (there’s a solid substitute, by the way) one thing or meaning must be related to another to ensure comprehension. That’s, like, not really necessary.

And speaking of not really necessary, the attachment of the preposition at to the end of a question or statement about physical or psychological position is hard to justify in my mind. Where you at, man?  Beats me. Maybe somewhere between the a and the t?  Where are you seems to work just fine as an understandable question without the preposition. That’s where I’m at.

There seems to be a certain lack of conversational confidence built into people who constantly pepper their verbal thoughts with an appeal to the listener’s understanding. Y’know?  No, actually I don’t, which I will assume is the reason you are describing something to me. If you’re not confident in saying what you mean, or if you require regular affirmation that what you’re saying is understood, maybe you could get by without saying it at all. Or you could just say something and credit me with sufficient brainpower to understand. It can be a little on the insulting side, y’know?

Saying something implies that you’ve spoken aloud. You say things, you don’t “go” them. This ubiquitous verbal crutch is the hardest for me to understand. It seems to permeate every instance of quoting or relating conversation to another. So, I go no way, man. The chick goes take a hike and I go who needs you? And the doctor goes whoa, dude, this is bad.  In none of those instances did anyone actually go anywhere.  The dude, the chick, and the doctor stood right where they were at the time and spoke some words. They said things. They did not go things. When I hear such things, I go…whoa, dude.

As a student of language, I know what onomatopoeia means. It’s a word that is formed by the sound associated with what’s being named. Obvious examples include the buzz of a bee or the hiss of a snake. What I don’t understand is why such words show up in conversation so regularly as substitutes for thoughts or feelings. Take my conversation with the new guy in the bar as an example. He meant to say he had a very favorable reaction to our little town. He conveyed that reaction with an expansive gesture and an eyeroll to accompany Boom! Had I not noticed the theatrics and been aware of the context, I could have easily concluded he was indicating a negative reaction.  Or even a terrorist scheme to blow up the town. I mean, like Boom! Do I just sit there dazed and confused or call the sheriff?

The term dude which is apparently useful today as a descriptive, an appellation, or a stand-alone exclamation is also a bit puzzling. I first recall hearing it used by black guys in Vietnam referring to white guys. There didn’t seem to be anything overtly offensive in the term like others including chuck, ofay, and cracker. In fact, it seemed to be used so often and in all sorts of contexts that the term quickly crossed the color barrier as an alternate for words like man, guy, or buddy.

Dude has always had a whiff of West Coast hippie culture as used in American conversation, but I guess it’s harmless enough as an identifier for a male human being. Actually, it’s derived from a Revolutionary War era term used by British soldiers to demean American colonists. It’s a short form of Yankee Doodle that morphed into dude. Hard to imagine it being used today in its original form. Yo, Doodle just doesn’t have the proper impact.

What’s confusing is that speakers use it alone to convey emotional reactions. Dude! Duuude! One conveys surprise or happiness. The other is used in a rumbling growl to indicate bad news or convey a threat. Dude, how’s a dude supposed to know?

Our American version of English has always been a polyglot version of the language. We seem to welcome and quickly adopt any word or term that we think adds color or aids understanding. I’ve always enjoyed listening to a conversation and then (often accurately) discerning where the speaker learned to use the language. Regional accents abound making it a simple task to identify speakers from New York, LA, Chicago, Atlanta, and practically anywhere in Texas. That’s a good thing in my book of perceived wisdom. Meanwhile, it would be handy, refreshing and helpful if we used the language without all the verbal crutches.

Meanwhile…the Dude abides.

Click for Books by Dale A. Dye