One of the nicest thing about words, aside from how great they look on shirts or hats, is that they are free. You could yammer like a pedantic moron for sixteen straight hours and it would not cost you a cent, except, perhaps, for bail or maybe a nice lozenge.
Or so I thought. I used to believe words were free, truly free, not just free when it's convenient, like butterflies, but really free. Use as many as you want, and there'll always be more. But now there is a grim spectre on the horizon, threatening to take our freedom of verbage away. This spectre has the face of the president.
By 'president' I do not mean the Commander-in-Chief of the lovely 61 states of America, but rather the unnamed president of the "President's Choice" line of grocery items. They could be the same person, but since the President's Choice president's prime responsibility seems to be picking out the tastiest of snack foods, I hope not.
Regardless of the true position of this "president," the company that bears his or her title is responsible for flagrant abuses of our nation's trademark laws, abuses which are stealing words right out of our mouths and replacing them with soft-batch cookies.
President's Choice commits this act of thievery through the names of its products. Instead of naming their cookies, snacks and cereals a nice made-up name, such as Oreo or Trix, names which are easily trademarkable, President's Choice appropriates fine, upstanding English words and phrases such as "The Best," "7 Reasons," and "Eat the middle first."
Aside from the fact that names like "Eat the middle first" are far more cumbersome and less fun to say than "Oreo," the real tragedy is that the name "eat the middle first" has no business being trademarked, for it is still a useful phrase in innumerable other contexts, such as suggesting that someone begin their consumption of Neapolitan ice cream with vanilla.
But more important than specific uses for the phrase is the license that having one trademarked phrase like that gives to a company. Once you trademark one common set of words, the whole dictionary becomes toothsome prey. President's Choice proved their wordlust by trademarking the words "The Best." Surely even those who find my words to be the sad rantings of a mercury-tainted madman can surely think of some way the phrase "The Best" can be used when not referring to President's Choice Dutch Butter Cookies. What are we supposed to do? If I tell my sweet grandmother her Cornish Game Lobsters and Chili was the best, will I have to toss a nickel in some envelope and mail it over to President's Choice? No way. Grandma should pay half, at least.
President's Choice also has a trademark on the phrase "Something can be done." Something can be done. Some act or event or object is able to be realized or completed. How the hell were they able to trademark that phrase? A trademark is, by its very nature, a word or group of words which is intensely specific to a given product. The phrase "something can be done" is specific to nothing. It would take a team of combat-trained lawyers capable of convincing the Montagues to have the Capulets over for drinks to even get a judge to consider that the phrase "something can be done" refers only to one specific product.
I don't wish to be an alarmist, unless it'll help me get dates, but I believe that we should be prepared to do something to stop this hostile takeover of the English language. If President's Choice, Inc. wants to name their food, let them make their own word like everyone else does. If not, we may all end up living in a Repo-Man-like world populated with cans of Food(TM) and Drink(TM), and constantly(TM) having(TM) to(TM) read(TM) sentences(TM) like(TM) this(TM). Solidarity(TM). (Jason Torchinsky)
Go to the next article: A Few Words About Trademarks... - by Jay Huber