The Word Police Are Here — And They Brought Asterisks

Remember when “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” was a thing? Yeah, neither do I — because apparently, words are now the ultimate weapons of mass destruction. We've reached such an enlightened stage of human development that syllables must now come with safety warnings, trigger labels, and enough asterisks to make a password manager sweat.

Let me give you a real-life scenario: you're listening to a podcast on real issues — addiction, grief, trauma — and suddenly you hear this:

“...after her father’s dh, she started using drs, and later struggled with s**ual trauma.”

Ah yes, the classic tale of emotional honesty wrapped in a layer of cartoon censorship. Because if there's one thing that really helps society grow, it's hiding the words that describe reality. Death? Beeped. Drugs? Obscured. Sex? Well, that one’s basically a linguistic landmine now. Just don’t say it. Hint it. Whisper it. Put a symbol in it. Or better yet — disappear it.

Im*ge cre**ed by m*

Introducing: The Age of the Asterisk

We’ve become the civilization that survived plagues, crossed oceans, went to the moon, and invented cheese in a can — only to end up covering words with asterisks because someone, somewhere, might get slightly uncomfortable reading the word “death.”

Let’s just pause and admire this evolutionary milestone. Not only do we now avoid saying difficult things out loud — we don’t even write them fully. What if someone reads the word “suicide” and feels feelings? Better make it “s*****e” — much safer. Everyone knows vague shadows of concepts are far less triggering than actually addressing reality, right?

The Logic of Linguistic Bubble Wrap™

Because obviously, saying “drugs” out loud will make you a junkie, just like saying “sex” will turn you into a degenerate. And “death”? Gasp! Someone might remember their own mortality, and we certainly can’t have that kind of philosophical depth interrupting the dopamine scroll-fest on TikTok.

We don’t want people thinking or processing — we want them comfortably scrolling through a world where pain, suffering, and human messiness are reduced to a row of tasteful asterisks. “Grief”? Too raw. Try “g**.” Better. “Cancer”? Let’s say “c**r” — sounds like a hiccup, feels less real.

In fact, let’s go a step further. Why not just eliminate language entirely and communicate exclusively through emojis and vibes? Death 💀? Drugs 💊? Sex 🍆💦? Perfect. Now nobody’s triggered — except those who still believe words have meaning.

Trggr Wrnng: Reality

What happened? How did we become so allergic to reality that we started censoring the dictionary? Is this the same species that once painted violent hunts on cave walls, discussed death rituals around the fire, and performed fertility rites in the open?

Now we can't even say the word “fertility” without someone reporting it to the algorithm for potential “adult content.”

We are living in an age where trauma is real, pain is real, but the words for them? Dangerous. Let’s not talk about pain. Let’s not say what happened. Let’s just hide behind gentle euphemisms and passive-aggressive hashtags. And God forbid someone says “rape” out loud. No, no, make it “r*pe” — that asterisk totally changes everything. Now it’s safe. Sanitized. Censored. Ignored.

The Peak of Progress™

So here we are. Homo sapiens. The thinking species. The peak of evolution. With apps that track your heartbeat, coffee machines that know your schedule, and AI that can generate Mozart — and yet, we’re collectively scared of saying a word out loud.

We are so fragile, so breakable, so perfectly bubble-wrapped, that actual vocabulary now requires a content advisory.

Words aren’t weapons. Silence is. And when we beep, blank, and bleep every uncomfortable word into oblivion, we’re not protecting anyone — we’re just raising a generation terrified of truth, incapable of facing pain, and allergic to language.

Final Thought (Or Should I Say F*l Thght?)

Maybe next time you're about to type “death” or “sex” or “addiction,” and you reach for the asterisk — stop. Write the real word. Own it. Say it. Because life is full of hard, ugly, messy things. And if we can’t even name them, how are we supposed to heal from them?

So go ahead: Say the word. Write it. Post it. Speak it.

If someone’s triggered by a word, maybe the word isn’t the problem. Maybe the fact that we’ve made discomfort a crime — is.