Is That Ironic?

Smoking Pipe Bent

Thanks to Alanis Morissette, ironic is a word I always hesitate to use.

The dictionaries don’t remove my hesitation. Their examples never match the situation I want to qualify as ironic.

Amusing is too broad a description, too generic, and sometimes, because the situation makes me laugh out loud, too soft. I want more nuance.

Effin’, friggin’ fuckin’. They each have their own nuances when you have no reservations about fuckin’.

I don’t use euphemisms if I need to censor myself, I drop the subjective.

Regardless of the premise, I ignore arguments with too many subjective words.

Ever notice how little is being said when you take away all judgemental language. Pontifications get reduced to a few banal statements.

I want precision and end up with wordy qualifications, sentences with many more useless adjectives and adverbs than verbs and nouns, with endless nested conjunctions that require a degree in analytical logic to decipher, and where the validity of an argument hangs on the placement of comma. The infinite precision in the service of making sure I am understood correctly making the prose incomprehensible. Isn’t that ironic?

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