George Carlin was by no means an admirable person. That’s hardly a secret, and the comedian, who died 14 years ago, was forthright about his failings.

But until the other day, when I glanced through an otherwise forgettable book of his called When Will Jesus Bring the Pork Chops?, I had remembered him, with fondness, as “Mr. Conductor” on Shining Time Station. (Carlin was Ringo Starr’s replacement.) But now, having looked over his book, I see Carlin as an unlikely ally in the ongoing struggle against bad writing.

Turns out Carlin devoted page after page to a pet peeve of his — and mine — which is the mindless preference for euphemisms. Adopted originally to avoid making people uncomfortable, such words appear everywhere, all the time. They are trotted out to make some ordinary thing sound elevated, or for any number of other reasons, most of which serve no purpose but to replace concrete reality with nebulous abstraction. Usually pretentious abstraction.

It’s Embarrassing!

The belly became the stomach, which became the tummy, Carlin says. Toilet paper became bathroom tissue. Dumps have become landfills.

Here’s a personal favorite: sweatpants, which have become activewear, which makes us slobs feel a whole lot better about ourselves, especially when the extent of our activity is waddling from the Barcalounger to the microwave and back to refill the kettle corn bowl.

But some of these euphemisms came into use when there wasn’t anything at all embarrassing, in the old-fashioned Victorian sense. Carlin discovered that “many things that used to be free are now complimentary. Asking the hotel clerk if the newspapers are free makes you sound like a mooch, but ‘Are the newspapers complimentary?’ allows you to retain some small bit of dignity. This is the reason some hotels offer their guests complimentary continental breakfasts, while others give their guests free doughnuts.”