Yeah, it’s that time. Things have cheesed me off so much that my only recourse is to blog about it. And I’m gonna.

1.    The Misuse of the Word “Epic”

It’s en vogue to call anything cool or interesting “epic.” To wit, a sandwich I once made was called “epic.” It wasn’t epic because it was worthy of an extended narrative verse wherein a hero overcame vast odds to save a world, or anything like that. It was epic because it contained corned beef, roast beef, pastrami, lettuce, and tomatoes.

Now, I can vouch for the deliciousness of the sandwich, because I ate it. However, it certainly was not epic. It was a sandwich. Bards will not sing of it in times to come, and a cult of hero worship will not form around the sandwich.

Of course, this criminal misuse is not limited to gastronomy. A good friend of mine, whose opinion in most matters I respect, once called dancing the conga “epic.” I told him that he was wrong. That the conga has never been, and never will be, referred to as “epic,” and the fact that he did so betrayed his ignorance of the actual meaning of the word.

Surprisingly, we’re still friends.

So, pals, chiefs, the invasion of Normandy was epic. The Star Wars saga is an epic. The Lord of the Rings trilogy is an epic. My sandwich is not epic. That chain backstab you got in Team Fortress 2 while wearing the Ghastly Gibus is definitely not epic.

Not epic.

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