"What do you mean, it doesn't bother you that much?" I asked.
"I mean, you know, it bothers me a little. Using Nazi as a colloquialism or synonym for fastidious doesn't seem . . . right. Shouldn't the opposite be true? Shouldn't it mean murderer? Instead of fastidious about grammar, it should mean one who slanders, murders, and annihilates grammar." Kat frowned, appearing as though she was wading through a weighty problem. "Now that I think about it, I guess it does bother me."
"I'm sorry." Sandra's forehead wrinkled.
"Why are you sorry?" Kat tilted her head to the side in question.
"Because I've said it before. I know I have. And I didn't mean to be insensitive, but now I know I was insensitive. So, I'm sorry," Sandra said sincerely.
"Thanks for apologizing. I guess." Kat frowned, still looking confused. "I mean, part of me doesn't think you need to, because I know you're not being unkind. But then another part of me appreciates it. And then a third part of me just wants to eat cheese."
"I get that." Sandra nodded thoughtfully. "Especially the cheese part."
"The irony of the grammar-Nazi colloquialism and how many people are now offended by its use is that the usage in that context originates from the TV show Seinfeld. Do you remember the soup-Nazi episode?" Janie didn't look up from her work in progress as she asked this.
"Can we stop saying the word Nazi, please?" Fiona made a face of distaste.
"You just said it," Elizabeth pointed out.
Fiona sent Elizabeth a gently scathing look-if such a thing existed-effectively silencing the younger woman. Or maybe it was her badass ex-CIA look. Or maybe it was both.
"I remember that episode, yes." Kat nodded, sipping her cocktail.
"Well, about a year before it aired, the term grammar . . ." Janie's eyes drifted to Fiona's, then back to Kat's before continuing, "grammar-you-know-what was coined online, in early 1995. But then ten months later, the soup-you-know-who episode aired. Some people speculate grammar-you-know-what and similar phrases only gained popularity because of the soup-you-know-who episode. And Seinfeld was written by Larry David, who is Jewish, and stars Jerry Seinfeld, who is also Jewish."
"Just because it was started by Jewish comedians doesn't mean other Jewish people can't be troubled by it. Or non-Jewish people. Or all people," Nico added. "As entertainers, you're responsible for either raising or lowering the bar."
"Very true." Elizabeth nodded. "And what does your semi-naked Jell-O wrestling on national TV do again? Raise the bar or lower it?"
"Definitely raise it," Sandra said before Nico could respond, then proceeded to trade saucy grins and winks with him.
"After the episode, the you-know-what word was added to all sorts of things as a pejorative insult," Janie continued academically, "as a way to denote a person is authoritarian, autocratic, or inflexible; one who seeks to impose his or her views upon others. Or, in its more literal usage, as you say, a murderer of other humans based on ethnicity and/or religion."
"See, in that context, it makes sense. Someone who seeks to impose his or her views upon others, just like the you-know-who's did. But to make it synonymous with fastidious or careful or anything else with a positive connotation is upsetting," Kat said.
"I also wonder if we, as a society, have lost our sense of humor," Elizabeth mused. "I mean, I read an interview with Jerry Seinfeld where he said laughing at the horrors of history is an effective way to disarm the power it holds. That he and Chris Rock have stopped performing at college campuses because this current generation has no sense of humor, and require everything to have trigger warnings. Why do we want the word-which Fiona won't let us say-or any word for that matter, to hold power over us?"
"Or maybe," Kat suggested, "it should hold power. And we should never forget the fruit of fascism."
"Fruit of Fascism should be the name of a band." Elizabeth lifted her chin toward Kat. "And you make an excellent point."
"This is a tough and complex issue," Sandra, adopting her psychiatrist voice, cut in. "Humor can heal, yes. Absolutely. But what if you poke fun at a topic that is still fresh, still sore, or that has been made newly sore by recent events? People are what, just supposed to get over it? No. Wrong answer."
"Maybe it's a balance," Ashley said, her eyes on the scarf she was knitting, "Maybe the answer is: Don't be an asshole, think before you open your trap, take responsibility for your words. Meaning, apologize when you're wrong and correct yourself moving forward-and don't constantly look for reasons to be offended and police well-meaning people's words. We want folks to talk to each other, right? Not just hang out with like-minded people all the time. Everyone is ignorant about something, and everyone is offended by something. If people can't have a calm, respectful dialogue without being hurt by ignorance, or without offending with insensitivity, then what the hell are we supposed to do? Surround ourselves with robots who don't challenge our ideas?"