If anything positive has come out of this whole Florida presidential recount thing, it is that the world finally learned a wonderful word: chad.
No, not Chad as in the country. No, not Chad as in the frat boy you once saw hurl up a rainbow of colors after doing 14 Jell-O shots in two minutes. We're talking chads, as in those little pieces of paper that get perforated out in punch-card style ballots.
Talk of chads is everywhere. You have pregnant chads, dimpled chads, and my personal favorite, hanging chads. This sounds like either a painful medical condition or something you'd expect to see on Castro Street in San Francisco.
In any case, it's a freaking hilarious word. The late-night talk-show hosts have been having a field day with the word "chads," and now, humor columnists are jumping into the fray.
Here's my question? What is it about certain words that make them so powerful? Why is it that you can talk to a little old lady about a runt or a duck without any problems, yet if you change one letter in each of those words and say them to her, she'll either have a seizure or beat the living daylights out of you? (Unless, of course, she's a dirty old lady. But that's a different topic for a different time.) And why are certain words so inherently funny?
Take David Letterman, for example. This is a man who has made millions by pointing out that he thinks certain words are funny. When Hootie and the Blowfish were big for about 11 minutes a few years back, Letterman could not bring himself to say anything but that word, "Hootie." He'd say it and snicker to himself uncontrollably, on the air, for all the world to see. He has an obsession with the name "Kenny," which is a very amusing name for reasons I do not fully understand. And if Mujibur and Sirajul had been named Jeff and Eric, would he have made them into national icons? I think not.
But Letterman's favorite word in the whole world has to be "pants." He loves this word, and even named his successful TV production company Worldwide Pants. Why? Because pants, or at least the word "pants," are/is funny.
There are also several words that never fail to crack me up. I remember a few years back -- and this is a true story -- there was a piece about boats on one of the local TV news broadcasts that I was watching with my aunt Clara and uncle Harvey. At one point during the story, the reporter said the word "boater." I found this mildly amusing. The second time she used the word, I let out a little snicker. And then when one of the people she was interviewing used the word, I started howling. I laughed for about four minutes, unable to stop, as Clara and Harvey stared at me, bewildered about what had sent me into hysterics. They asked me why I was laughing, and all I could manage to say was "Boater! Boater!" in between guffaws.
Looking back, I'm fortunate they didn't have me put in a home.
That word, "boater," just struck me as uproariously funny, as it does to this very day. The same thing goes for the word "sniveling." Someone was talking to me about a whiny relative a few days back and used the word; this launched me into hysterics. Like my aunt and uncle, my friend was befuddled at my outburst. I believe she thinks I'm a little weird now. But she should have already known that.
What is it about the words "Hootie" and "pants" that have helped David Letterman earn millions? Why do I come unglued when someone mentions boaters or sniveling? What would ever happen if someone, unintentionally and unexpectedly, used the phrase "sniveling boater" while I was within earshot?
These are all questions that I don't have answers for. But there is one thing I do know: the mysteriously hilarious phrase "hanging chad," unlike Hootie and the Blowfish, won't soon be forgotten.
Jimmy Boegle is a fifth-generation Nevadan who is simultaneously proud and amused to be from a state with cities named "Pahrump" and "Tonopah." Jimmy's column appears here Tuesdays, and he can be reached via e-mail at jiboegle@stanfordalumni.org.