At Writing Boots in 2010, I wrote that "amazing" had replaced "awesome" as "the favorite linguistic foster child of insipid waterheads everywhere."
"You can't scroll through one Facebook screen," snarked I, "without reading about amazing husbands, amazing friends and amazing colleagues (at amazing companies)."
In the six intervening years, I'm still not amused by the perpetually amazed. But George Stephanopoulos amazed me last week by previewing a concert that was to be held in Central Park later that morning. "It's going to be amazing," he said.
A thing can't be amazing if you know it's going to be amazing in advance, any more than a thing can be surprising if you see it coming a mile away. Can it?
"Amazement is a product of confusion," or so it seemed to me six years ago. "Amazement happens when you had not the faintest idea! How is it that Americans are so constantly gobsmacked by the people they work with, eat with, sleep with every day? … You would have to worry about a population like that."
And worry I do. Honestly: Don't you?