Ouch! Don’t SAY that word!

Here at Catchword HQ, we’re all about balance and clarity.

(Well, except for our annual Punctuation Party where everyone dresses up as their favorite punctuation mark).

We believe in the relative equity between actions and words. The consequences of using particular words as they support actions should be clear and logical. Words ought to have direct and conventional meaning.

So imagine our surprise over the lawsuit filed recently on behalf of one Gerard Domond, currently a guest of New York State.

Back in 1987, Mr. Domond resolved a dispute over a pharmacological transaction through homicide. Since then he’s been in the pokey upstate. One would think that Gerard would have spent the past 24 years percolating in his remorse, and perhaps learning a skilled trade.

Nope.

Apparently the overwhelming concern for Mr Domond is that the prison guards refer to him as an “inmate.”

According to his sister, who filed the $50 million lawsuit against the state Correctional Services Department, “the label implies that our brother is locked up for the purposes of mating with other men.” Call us Inspector Callahan, but we think the reason Gerard is getting three hots and a cot is that he shot a guy in the head.

The lawsuit goes on to allege that the name “…hurts his feelings…” and has caused mental anguish worth the annual payroll of a typical professional sports team.

In the spirit of familial support, Domond’s sister is serving as lawyer (and ad hoc naming expert) when she says:

“The suggestive nature of the word is disgraceful. This cruel psychological programming has weighed heavily on our emotional and psychological well-being. It’s something that’s bothered me for a long time. I couldn’t understand why no one recognized that somebody being labeled an inmate, why they wouldn’t recognize that. To me it just sounded very wrong.”

At Catchword we think this is absurd. Since its first appearance in the sixteenth century, the appellation has consistently meant “…a person who is confined to an institution…” Long time readers to this blog know how such misappropriation and redefinition of words and languages particularly vexes Catchword.

Indeed, part of a convicted felon’s punishment ought to be the acceptance of a conventional and colloquial description of his status. We submit that any “hurt feelings” or “anguish” more properly lie six feet under with the deceased. Furthermore, we also suggest that (as with plenty of other names) reasonable substitutions exist for the “offending” word. Catchword suspects that there have been plenty of times when Mr. Domond was addressed as “prisoner” or “convict” with the same meaning being conveyed, albeit without the traumatic fallout of the loathsome “inmate.”

In a flash of reason, the state correction officials sagely declined to comment on the pending litigation, let alone the name itself. Sometimes, supreme folly does not warrant a response.

But we’re certain that at Mr. Domond’s parole hearing (in 2013) this matter will surely resurface. At which time we hope the parole board will decline his release but provide him with a dictionary.

“I call this shade American Dream”

Well then, what to make of this mess in New Jersey?

Once upon a time there was a mall called Xanadu. Now, the dictionary says that Xanadu is a “…place of great beauty, luxury and contentment…”

But ladies and gentlemen, what we have nine miles west of Manhattan is much further away from any version of paradise.

The mall has flopped (and that’s really what it is, no matter that they call it a “retailment center”). Not entirely the mall’s fault. Overall, shopping malls are in trouble. Recent figures describe that nearly a fifth of the nation’s 2,000 malls are failing. In fact, there are well over 100 “dead malls.” And new malls aren’t exactly sprouting.

Not that this matters to the Xanadu folks.

No sir, forget the recession, forget the hockey stick decline of malls, Xanadu opened clumsily at full steam ahead as the most expensive mall ever built in the US, at a cost of $2.3 billion, more than double the original cost.

From a naming perspective, giving such a boondoggle–such a misstep in planning and construction–a name that conveys paradise surely must strike New Jersey voters as harshly ironic at best, and more likely insulting. Xanadu is the retail equivalent of a drunk showing up at last call, insisting the bar stay open and break out the Johnny Walker Blue.
When paired with its name, you have the bricks and mortar example of an oxymoron.

But rather than recalibrating the offer (perhaps downsizing the grandiose scope, starting with the name) the mall owners doubled down on the eyesore. Disregarding any recognition of the recession or the crippling tax structure of the state, they’ve gone back to the trough, shamelessly asking for even more money to throw at failure.

As sure as putting lipstick on a pig, they’re going to replace the façade. Yes, that will surely convince customers to shop at Xanadu. But wait, they’re also changing the name. In a truly big-hair moment, the mall owners are adopting…wait for it…American Dream at the Meadowlands.

If only they were joking. Just as “jobless recovery” is hardly anyone’s notion of prosperous times, naming this consumer white elephant a “dream” when it will cost an additional $1.25 billion of taxpayer dollars is shockingly bad.

As pundits point out, American Dream will be 25 percent larger. It’s as if the mall were overweight and rather than fight against too tight clothing by losing some pounds, they switch to stretch waist sweat pants.

The tonality and messaging of American Dream is all wrong. It continues the flaws and (albeit unintended) cynicism of Xanadu. No wonder the word on the street is the architect no longer takes calls from the developer. And these same voices whisper that at last count, the developer had leased only 9 of the 200 retail spaces. Gulp. Swallow hard, New Jersey.

Had Catchword been asked about a name, we would have suggested…

Something more credible, accessible, not cotton-candy fantasies of a better life (does anyone really think an indoor Ferris Wheel and a food court is the embodiment of the American Dream).

Instead, why not go for a name that conveys what this claptrap should represent:  solidity, credibility, not false and cynical promises.

We also would have suggested a name that evokes the local surroundings without referencing “Meadowlands” (now there’s a name that comes with its own steamer trunk of baggage).

And to be frank, we’d have gone with a shorter name. Just saying.

We expect better from these developers. After all, they built The Mall of America near Minneapolis. And that place is humming along without co-opting images so far out of focus with the realities of the property and its performance.

But instead, the good citizens of New Jersey are stuck with a bloated, pompous name that is a stick in the eye and a leak on the piggy bank. And that’s a damn shame which could have been prevented.

In other words, a new name is a life preserver for a brand that’s shipwrecked at sea. It will keep you afloat. But you’re still out to sea.

Sure it’s mayo. But damn it tastes good.

So the other night we’re squeezing through the crush at the bar, wondering why is it that every bartender who utters the word “Sidecar” suddenly starts talking like the ghost of Franklin Delano Roosevelt?

But what really gets our attention is a language kidnapping, a semantic hostage situation.

That’s right, people: a perfectly good word has been relegated to the central holding cell of an insult, a smear. We’re talking about “average.”

Used to be it was acceptable to be average. For instance, not so long ago a reasonable academic achievement was a C. The solid C. Nowadays, they throw you out of some ivory towers if you pull less than a B.

On management consulting scorecards, “Average” is not a happy place. No, it’s flirting with “Poor” or “Needs Work.” Even though the “average” class of employees is by far the largest category, typically comprising at least 60% of the workforce. So how did the word come to carry the stench of failed aspirations?

After all, by its very definition, most of us fit within the tall arch of the bell curve. Most of us are going to earn about the same salary, live about as long, visit the usual places, and share common interests.

And what’s wrong with that?

These standard ranges are well documented by everyone from the IRS to insurance companies to the local Chamber of Commerce. Simply imagine the lowered stress, dread and anxiety of simply accepting the basic truth of your commonality. It’s not conceding and it’s not settling. It’s recognizing.

So come on people, embrace and celebrate your average. There’s nothing meh about it.

But frankly, we’re finding it hard these days. During November alone, there are so many causes, events and holidays that our head swims.

Among the national causes honored, celebrated, marked, noted, and marketed…

Aviation History Month
Family Stories Month
Healthy Skin Month
Jaw Joints Month
Marrow Awareness Month
Pulmonary Hypertension Month
And, wait for it…
Radiologic Technology Month

And lest we forget, Prematurity Awareness has both a day and a month! Cripes!

It gets even worse when we remember the weekly and daily celebrations…

Signature events just this week include:

Author’s Day
Better Conversation Week
Farm-City Week
Flossing Day
Game and Puzzle Week
Geography Awareness Week
Young Reader’s Day

We certainly have nothing against these esteemable causes themselves.

But as a naming firm, Catchword has to wonder have we surrounded ourselves with iconic days (and names) that have lost their meaning? The field is too crowded. We are asked to care about what are possibly niche causes. It reminds us of having a parade every week. That would get old. Plus, who even goes to parades any longer?

Are these calendar reminders still the best way to honor a cause?

Let’s take a closer look at the problem:

First, the days have little bearing on their calendar dates. We can all easily support dates tied to history (9/11, Thanksgiving, July 4). But just as a good name has weight and connection to that which it describes, memorials need to have a foundation in the date.

Second, the names should be brief. National Geography Awareness Week? That’s a mouthful. It’s hard enough to remember the day, (let alone set out the appropriate costume and decorate) without having to deal with an unwieldy, clunky name.

Also, why have is the cause tied to a month? Healthy Skin gets a full month? Honestly, we really only have ten minutes for Pulmonary Hypertension. Wouldn’t a hot second be enough for National Flossing Day? The name would be more impactful if it fostered five minutes of focused, even urgent attention to a cause. Besides, how could there even be a full month of activities related to Jaw Joints?

Or maybe the problem with the names is that they don’t imply a call to action. At best they merely create awareness of the arbitrary day/week/month but no further understanding.

The solution? We suggest a moratorium on any further calendar designations. And a reconsideration of how better to communicate and educate the general public about causes, memorials and celebrations.

Now please excuse us while we go make our papier mache sculpture of Plymouth Rock.

Only a few days later, Chevrolet decided that Chevy wasn’t so bad after all. In what was some of fastest backpedaling I’ve seen in a long time, Chevrolet suddenly saw the light and professed its love for the Chevy nickname.

We imagine that some up-and-coming brand manager at GM was trying to make their mark with a revolutionary change to the brand. He probably quoted some focus group research that supported the theory that Chevy downgrades the Chevrolet brand. That Chevy is low-end, and GM needed to ban its use to better elevate a flagging brand. (Um, isn’t that what the Cadillac brand is for?)

Regardless of what some focus groups or brand strategy research might suggest, the historical competitive trends prove that adopting brand nicknames is a guaranteed win-win. From time immemorial, nicknames for famous brands have been embraced and exploited. (Coke, Bud, Mickey D’s, heck, even Napoleon embraced his nickname “Roly Poly” — okay, I’m just making that one up!)

The point is large brands should love and embrace brand nicknames, not hate and recoil from them. Nicknames are often terms of endearment, and the same is true for brands. Customers start using nicknames for brands that they love and trust. It’s a great way of softening an otherwise megalithic and unfriendly corporate product brand. Most brands capitalize on their customer-given nicknames to help build customer loyalty through a friendlier moniker. What’s more, when customers feel they’ve had a role in creating a name or nickname, they feel more connected to the brand and brand name.

As I mentioned, many famous brands have adopted their company and product nicknames, both officially and unofficially. These include Disney (The Walt Disney Company), Coke (Coca-Cola), Pepsi (Pepsi-Cola), Mini (MINI Cooper), FedEx (Federal Express), Mickey D’s (McDonald’s sweet tea), Bud (Budweiser), Stoli (Stolichnaya), and Nick (Nickelodeon).

In fact, Nickelodeon embraced their nickname so much so that they created several brand name extensions around “Nick”.

Another category of nickname is the initialism. In these cases, the nicknames are less likely to be terms of endearment, and more likely to have been created for ease of use and pronunciation. It’s much easier to say HP than it is Hewlett-Packard. Much quicker to say HBO than it is to say Home Box Office. The list goes one to include initialisms like AT&T (American Telephone & Telegraph), DQ (Dairy Queen), BP (British Petroleum), IHOP (International House of Pancakes), AOL (American Online), P&G (Procter and Gamble), VW (Volkswagen), and KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken).

And, while Burger King hasn’t officially used BK as their company nickname, they have used it extensively in their product names.

Finally, there are a few brands that have resisted the adoption of their brand nicknames. Despite decades of the VW Beetle being called “bug” or “buggy,” VW has resisted using it in an official capacity. The same is true for Bloomies (Bloomingdales), Caddy (Cadillac), Nordies (Nordstroms). In these three examples, the luxury brands have avoided a familiar nickname that would most likely devalue their premium brand image. On the other end of the scale, Target has only recently begun to embrace their tongue-in-cheek upscale nickname “tar-zhay.” A few television commercials have made use of the fancy moniker, but to my knowledge, Target has yet to fully embrace it in print. Finally, American Express has most likely avoided fully adopting AmEx because this is also the official nickname for the American Stock Exchange.

I’m pretty sure that Bloomingdales, Nordstrom, and Cadillac won’t be embracing their customer-given nicknames anytime soon. It certainly isn’t essential that a company adopt its brand nickname. However, it is important that companies don’t go around making declarations to avoid, ban, or destroy a nickname that endears them to their customers.

Like the internet phenoms they trumpeted, internet company names of the last decade have been, by turns, wildly inventive, deeply troubled, breathtakingly silly, serviceable (if dull)—and occasionally, brilliant. As a bicoastal naming company that’s christened more than our share of internet phenoms, Catchword looked back over this tumultuous decade and identified the 10 biggest dot-com naming trends—and our picks for best and worst examples. (Although frankly, it was hard to choose just one “worst” in some cases. There were so many Web 2.0 disasters! It was as though the rules of language ceased to apply.)

Here are the trends and names that rose to the top (and sank to the bottom):

1. The Hookup
Sometimes two words are better than one—especially to convey a new way of doing things. Serviceable hookups can range from descriptive (Facebook, StubHub) to suggestive (LinkedIn) to evocative (SnapFish). But if two words don’t have a discernible relationship with each other—or the brand—it’s a Random Hookup. And we all know how short-lived those are—in this or any realm.
Win: YouTube
Intuitive, catchy, grassroots-y. The retro slang “tube” for TV evokes simpler times and ease of use: clever for a new app that could have been seen as intimidatingly high-tech.
Fail: TalkShoe
Uh . . . say what? The name is a play on the use of Ed Sullivan’s pronunciation of the word “show” on his long ago TV show. Like anyone is going to make the connection.

2. The Conjurer
Evocative words can make memorable brand names when they relate to the core of a brand’s story (like Yelp). But the line can be fine between edgy and baffling.
Win: Twitter
Whimsically conjures up users sharing short little bursts of information (like birds twittering in a tree)—as well as excitement (“all atwitter.”) It’s extendable, too. A whole vocabulary quickly takes flight: from tweet and twitfriend to twipic.
Fail: MOO
Great for cows, milk, cheese, ice cream. Not so great for a site offering printing services.

3. The Letter-Dropper
The problem with this type of coinage is it’s so distinctive, you’re almost bound to look like a copycat if you’re not the first out of the gate. And if you drop more than one letter, you’re asking for trouble. (Was Motorola’s SLVR cell phone meant to be Silver or Sliver? And what’s with Scribd?)
Win: Flickr
The image of a camera’s flicker is relevant for photo sharing and reassuringly familiar, while the dropped letter—a new naming convention—suggested cutting-edge technology.
Fail: iStalkr
Creepy.

4. The Assembly Line
Names assembled from word parts with meaningful associations can be rich and unexpected (witness Gizmodo, the gadget blog). But tone and messaging need to be just right.
Win: Wikipedia
The unusualness of the name establishes it as a fresh player, while the evocation of both encyclopedias and speed (“wiki” is Hawaiian for “quick”) is spot on.
Fail: Nupedia
The flatfooted claim of newness sounds dated from day one. Plus it’s risky to stake an identity on newness in internet-land. Before long, this premise is far from “nu.”

5. The Misspeller
This kind of brand name often spells disaster. Hard to remember (Ideeli, Scrybe), confusing to pronounce and spell (Myngle, Wotnext, Gravee), and reeking of URL-search desperation (Itzbig, Profilactic, Fairtilizer).
Win: Boku
French word “beaucoup” is on the money for an online payment service—and for many Americans, the misspelling is actually more intuitive and inviting.
Fail: Cuil
Meant to be pronounced “cool,” but who’s gonna get that? Rule #1: your name shouldn’t need to come with a pronunciation guide.

6. The Wordster
Another convention that ages fast. And there’s nothing more pathetic in naming than a transparent attempt to appear cool. (Cases in point: Dogster, Agester, Talkster.)
Win: Friendster
Not exciting, we’ll grant you, but the intuitiveness of the name helped usher in the era of social networking.
Fail: Napster
In light of its ensuing legal woes, to highlight the “kidnapping” of music is probably not the best idea (to put it kindly).

7. The Double or Nothing
Doubling a letter in a real word only works when the word remains recognizable, and the addition of the second letter serves some purpose, other than to complicate spelling (as in Gawwk).
Win: Digg
Intuitive and evocative, the double “g” underscores the digging nature of research and is graphically interesting.
Fail: Diigo
A social bookmarking site, the double “i” destroys the semantic connection and confuses pronunciation. (Is it Dee-go or Dih-go?) Plus, coming on the heels of Digg, it seems hopelessly derivative.

8. The eThing, the iThing, the meThing, the myThing
“e/i” shorthand quickly becomes redundant in the internet space, although it spawns many workhorse names: serviceable, if dull. The me/my thing (as in mySpace) tends to be similarly predictable and unremarkable. (Now, myBad—that would be interesting….)
Win: iContact
For a provider of email marketing, the “i” works on three levels: “I contact,” “eye contact,” and, of course, “internet contact.”
Fail: eSnailer, eBaum’s World, eXpresso . . .

9. The Empty Vessel
A word without recognizable semantic roots can be a useful umbrella name for a company that may want to branch out in different directions. But it needs to be pronounceable and have relevant sound symbolism, Otherwise, it’s not an Empty Vessel—it’s Alphabet Soup. Like Disaboom, Xoopit, Yebol and Goozex. Cover your ears.
Win: Kazaa
Recalls huzzah or hurrah, conveying excitement. (Sample exclamation: “Kazaa! I just downloaded Season One of Six Feet Under, FOR FREE!!!”)
Fail: Eefoof
Vintage Web 2.0: hard to spell, silly—and utterly meaningless.

10. The Foreigner
Words in little-known languages can also make good empty vessel names, especially if their meaning provides a springboard into their brand story. The trick is to find words that are easy to pronounce and pleasing to the American ear (like Kijiji, a communal website with a Swahili name meaning “village”).
Win: Hulu
Good empty vessel name for an entertainment company that wants to keep its options open. (Ironically, the word means “empty gourd” in Mandarin.) The rhyming word is playful, and by evoking hula hoops, it suggests fun.
Fail: Jwaala
Talk about a tongue-twister.

As for internet company naming trends of the coming decade: we predict companies will demand more meaningful brand names, as far from Web 2.0 flights of fancy as possible. And they’ll be willing to pay a premium for real-word or lightly coined domain names, and be creative in the messages they explore—as long as they’re relevant to the brand. Like internet companies themselves, internet naming will be coming back down to earth.

There’s a quote from me about resisting the temptation to be trendy. Naming consultants above all need to be wary of this temptation. Any new brand name that keys on a temporary trend risks becoming obsolete as soon as that trend fades away. This is particularly true in technology, where things can change in a heartbeat. But whatever the category, brand names need to have the flexibility to grow with your company (or product) over time.

Still, it is interesting how in the last few years, “branding” has started to shape political debate with increasing significance. The classic examples of “pro-life” and “pro-choice” have been joined by “Death Tax” (formerly “Estate Tax”) and “Climate Change” (formerly “Global Warming”). These new euphemisms/dysphemisms are all geared toward shaping opinion long before any pros or cons have been considered. In today’s soundbite-driven world, the “brand” of the topic itself can really impact public opinion. Perhaps lobbyists should be hiring naming consultants like me.

DWT’s balanced response is very much in accord with my linguist colleague Laurel Sutton’s assertion that there is no “should” in the evolution of language.

Even so, those of us who pronounce the “h” may, just occasionally, continue to whine over “whine” over wine.