Among other things, I’m getting well and truly fed up with celebrities, politicians, organisations and newsworthy individuals blasting one another. The term is becoming so rabid with overuse that, were it Old Yeller, we’d already have taken it quietly out back and done the decent thing, only without remorse.

Just witness:

PETA has blasted Jessica Simpson for wearing a T-shirt.

Mel B has blasted Eddie Murphy in a new song.

The AMA has blasted the Rudd government.

U.N. blasts celebrity drug use.

Pope blasts Europeans.

Kevin Rudd blasts the Chaser.

Anthony Albanese blasts Brendon Nelson.

A quick Google reveals blasting headlines as far back as 2000, but in the past year or so, there seems to have been an explosion. From memory, it feels like blasting began as a common gossip-mag headline, the kind of sensationalist claim that implies a killing verbal tirade without actually necessitating one. For instance, a headline like Shirely Temple Black blasts Paris Hilton gives a cozy, familiar sense that the next story over will be something equally vacuous, like teen ‘pregnancy pact’ has 17 girls expecting. You know. Trash, of the morbidly curious, staring-at-a-trainwreck ouevre.

But when did blasting go mainstream? Did I miss the memo? Was there a memo? And can I slap whoever was responsible?

In other news, the sixth human foot to wash ashore in British Colombia has been found, on closer examination, to be an animal paw. Which is all very well, but I’m still none too happy wondering where the other five came from.

Who knows? Maybe they’ve been blasted.

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