On the February 17th Face the Nation, Bob Schieffer suggested
that we find another word for “sequester,” the mandatory cuts to the federal
budget that are set to go into effect the first of March. He recalled that
President Carter was once told he shouldn’t use the word “inflation,” to which he
supposedly replied: “OK. I’ll just call it a banana.” (The banana has
alternately been credited to Carter’s “inflation czar,” Alfred Kahn, as an
alternative to “depression.”)
I took Schieffer up on his
suggestion and I’ve been exploring some other terms for “sequester.” First I
needed to determine what that word really means. Microsoft Word’s reference
tool provided some interesting information, along with quite a few alternatives.
The dictionary options were enlightening. I immediately ruled out the first: put somebody into
isolation. The second probably best describes the original intent of the
sequester: take property to cover obligation. But the third was the eye opener:
take enemy’s property.
“Aha!” said I. “I think I’m on to
something here.” If this election taught us nothing else, it was that many Democrats
and Republicans perceive one another as the enemy. It was no doubt with that in
mind that the notion of the sequester came into being in the first place. This
did not immediately send a replacement term hurtling into my cerebral cortex,
but I filed the notion away for reference later in this process.
In political terms, most of the
alternatives proposed by the thesaurus sound even worse than the word “sequester”
itself. Take for instance “confiscate.” That’s pretty much what Congress will
be doing with the money that’s automatically cut from all the federal budget
items. “Impound” doesn’t sound much better. It conjures up cars abandoned on
city streets and towed off to some fenced in, godforsaken lot that no proper
cab driver would take you to.
The variations on “isolate” (a
secondary meaning per the thesaurus) seemed more palatable at first. But
scrolling down, I found “quarantine,” and that made me itch. I drilled down on
“separate,” hoping for something useful. That turned up “ghettoize.” Not a word
any politician would choose instead of “sequester,” and perhaps a tad too close
to the truth.
It was clear that the thesaurus
would be no help to me in this quest for a euphemism for “sequester.” I’d have
to go rogue on this one. I can hear my loyal followers raising a cheer at this
prospect, thinking: “Elaine going rogue is bound to be more entertaining than
Elaine plowing through a thesaurus.”
I shifted my focus from left brain
to right brain. No longer would I proceed in terms of words, but rather in
terms of images. First I pictured the members of the various budget committees
with brooms in hand, sweeping the outlying crumbs of department allocations
into neat little piles. Piles that could either be picked up and disposed of,
or set aside in a corner, just in case there came a reprieve and they could be
spread around again later in the fiscal year. This led me to “Swiffer” as my
first alternative.
Next I envisioned functionaries
with green eyeshades and electric pencil sharpeners, poring over pages of
expenses, ticking off the ones they felt were discretionary. This conjured up
the image of Scrooge’s beleaguered clerk, which provided the option “cratchit,”
or “cratchitize.” I’m not sure that’s an improvement over sequester, but at
least it’s more colorful.
Back to the notion of taking the
enemy’s property, I zeroed in on "spoils of war." I Googled this phrase and
uncovered a website that gives English first names with that meaning. The very idea
was so bizarre that I was compelled to visit babynames.merchat.com to learn
what those names are. Turns out there are just four of them, and two of those
are variations of the others. What caught my eye was "Edelina," which just
happens to be an anagram of my first name and the first initial of my last
name.
This discovery was beyond strange;
it was a karmic sign. I became enamored with the idea of replacing “sequester”
with an anagram of my own name. From now on, I shall use “edelina” whenever I refer
to the sequester. I’ll sound positively erudite as I discuss political
euphemisms and nuances of speech. I might even be invited to appear on Face the Nation.
In the meantime, I’m going to open
a nice bottle of vino and savor my propitious
discovery. Because sure as God made green apples, Congress will pass another
continuing resolution, and the risk of an edelina will be put off another six
months, removing it from talk show topics and my name from the shows' guest lists.
