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Touché Cliché!

May 16, 2015

They say there has never been an original idea.  Any thought you can conceive of has already been thought of.  I’m not certain about the accuracy of that statement—it’s hard to get my mind around it.  Kinda like the chicken and the egg. 

 

It makes a bit of sense when you think about the birth of a cliché.  A clichégg hatches when someone makes an assertion that others identify with.  They in turn repeat the expression and soon there is a flock of hatchees reverberating, or shall I say regurgitating the phrase.  Got it?

 

No?  Well, let’s sort this out.  So if a clichégg hatches when the hen speaks a catchphrase, she becomes the original source—unless she herself began earlier as a clichégg, i.e. shortly after she was a twinkle in a rooster’s eye.  But at that point doesn't she become the clichégg-ee?  Oh never mind. 

 

The whole concept reminds me of a joke I thought was so funny when I was a kid.  If a chicken can lay 1½ eggs in one day, how many seeds can a wooden-legged bull frog kick out of a dill pickle?  I won’t tell punch line because it doesn’t make any sense.  The point is that no matter how bizarre your hare-brained idea is, someone else hatched it first.  Or as a famous nut once said, you didn’t build that bridge.  Or maybe you did and someone else drew up the plans?  Doesn't make sense either.

 

They say (again, I’m quoting They, and if I ever meet They in person I’ve got a few questions, for example, sources) that you’re not very intelligent if you use a lot of clichés. 

 

Personally, to set the record straight, for the life of me I avoid cliché’s like the plague.  I hate to toot my own horn but it’s as plain as day that when push comes to shove, time and time again I make a vain attempt to nip it in the bud and only use dyed in the wool words to fit the bill.  And that’s the naked truth.  Even so, nobody’s perfect and against all odds as hard as it is to believe, I’m only human.  

 

I’m going to go out on a limb here and suggest that in the long run, though it takes nerves of steel, there’s more than one way to skin a cat—ways too numerous to mention.  Now give me the benefit of the doubt and don't jump to conclusions and get your panties in a twist or your nose bent out of shape.  I draw the line at skinning actual cats and I’m not chomping at the bit to do it; but in all reality it could be worse and I say "to each his own."  I won’t pull any punches and I hope it won’t rub you the wrong way, but what kind of idiot would skin a cat anyway? I'm just saying.  And I couldn't beat a dead horse or lead him to water if my life depended on it..  The very thought sets my teeth on edge. 

 

I hope I don’t have clichégg on my face here, but lets just call a spade a spade and answer the burning question:  Is life possible without clichés?  Clearly, it’s a no-brainer.

 

*Favorite Response:  "And now today with the weather raining cats and dogs I snuggle up to read your next entry-Cliché. Don't throw the baby out with the bath water just yet but you are the bees knees, the quintessential writer.  I'm curious what you'll write about next. Curious as a cat!"    Hahaha... Thanks, Dear Reader!

 

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