As a columnist and member of the human race (except during the full moon when I become a werewolf and lead the team to a state title) there is something that always bothers me the week after I write a particularly insulting article: meanings of words. It seems very easy for people to take things I say … er, write … the wrong way. Therefore the following column will be in the “Madlib” format so as to not hurt anyone’s feelings.

There was some confusion over my column last week. You may be surprised by this, but I unintentionally offended a friend with something I said.

I know, I know. That should never happen with a [noun] like myself: never sarcastic, always [adjective]. The issue was over the use of the word “gay.” I, of course, have never had any [type of meat] with homosexuals. I mean I’ve never been to [spineless nation in Europe], but I’m cool with its [plural verb] and fried foods (drumroll).

It’s clear and at the same time deeply philosophic that words mean different things to different [plural noun]. For one group, a term like “fraternity rush” can mean a gathering of [adjective] individuals seeking fellowship and a place to [action verb]. For another, it can mean [buying friends].

I’ve always held the belief that the key is to judge a [noun]’s intent and not the actual words or “vehicle” of the message. We’re all saying the same thing most of the time. Except for [plural noun for dork] in the Honors Program. They have just taken their words through “[popular word used by hip-hop stars] My Ride” first.

My message is a ’74 Gremlin. John Q. Whittle Scholar is pimpin’ a [type of crappy vehicle] with spinners and [type of game console] in the back.

I’m sure some would argue that a [noun]’s words are all we have as a reader, listener, [animal] to base our judgment of that person’s intent. Take for example, the problem with my friend [proper name].

[Same proper name] was upset with the use of the word gay as a [harsh adjective] term. I can understand this. Say someone used the name “Glenn” to describe [venereal disease]. I might shed a few tears of embarrassment when television ads were blaring “New [noun] to stop itching and fight the effects of Glenn.” That would really [action verb].

The same problem arises with the use of words like “retarded” and [noun for body part]. On Saturday alone, I used the term “retard” at least [number] times. Granted, I was watching the men’s basketball game against Georgia. Wow, what a bunch of [plural noun for body part] those guys are. The crowd was cheering more for free [articles of clothing] than for the senior good-bye.

But what does this mean? I can’t use certain words because of the possibility of offending some [ethnic group] or [a word to describe Carson Daly, the English call these cigarettes]? In reality, I’m not trying to dump [noun] on either. I’m actually making fun of someone else.

I’ve never been a fan of political correctness. I’m not making a case for racism or approving cruelty toward minorities. But I think we all need to be able to laugh at ourselves.

I mean I am [term for perfection], unlike the rest of you [plural noun] — just kidding. But if I want to make fun of [an arrogant sorority bearing dolphins] or remind the Student Government Association that they are about as useful as [type of cancer], I feel I have that right. And if in the process I use words like “retard” to describe both groups it should be understood that these are just merely words.

I’m not making fun of people with disabilities. I’m making fun of people who are disabled and just don’t know it (har har). This brings me back to [same proper name]. I really didn’t mean to upset this [noun]. The whole situation frustrates me, too. Do you think I want to hurt you? Do you think I want to make you cry? Wow, sorry! I didn’t mean to have a Boy George moment there. What a big [a word to describe Carson Daly, the English call these cigarettes] I am.

The point is that we all say a lot of things that we never mean. Very rarely do any of us understand what others are saying. I mean, seriously, it’s like going on a date. Sure, they say they don’t care if you go to [a fast food chain] because you work at a newspaper and are therefore poor, but they don’t mean that. They want [a nice restaurant] and some freaking [type of flower]. You can’t already tell that I love you, so this plant will make everything better.

Maybe someday we’ll all be confined to using, like, six words to describe everything. Hopefully, that would clear everything up. If so, I’m pulling for the following: Sororities, are, only, good, for, watermelon.

You thought I was going to say sex didn’t you? What a pervert you are.

— Glenn LaFollette is a super-senior in journalism and electronic media. He can be reached at [email protected].