On the Treasure of Our Tongue
Snotty: You know what phrase I really hate? "All that jazz". Fucking shit thing to say.
Hugs: Yeah, and jazz implies saxophones, which are really gay. I hate saxophones. I think the one I hate most though is "at the end of the day".
Snotty: Aw yeah, sure. "At the end of the day" is a stone cold classic. But it seems like a some kind of almost unconscious affectation to me, or at least it's seen as no more than a handy stock phrase. What makes "all that jazz" worse is that the perps appear to know only too well that they are saying it, and what's more they think it's fucking charming and witty. People who say "all that jazz" are the novelty tie wearers of the verbal world. And possibly the actual world, too. They're the sort of people who do that faux-sarcastic thing where if you say you spent the whole day at work reading some deathly boring bullshit they'll chuckle and say "oh, fantastic" in an ironic tone of voice even though it is quite clear that they fucking GENUINELY DO THINK that it is fucking fantastic. Fuck those people in the ear. They are nerds. They are pissheaps, hosers, cocklumps and assclamps.
Hugs: And all that jazz.