It’s time to stop the curation epidemic. We, the Ministry of Overused Words (MOW), the Word Protection Collective (WPC) and the Respect for the Oxford English Dictionary (ROED) – now known as the Anti-Curation Coalition (ACC) – demand a cure for the word curated – a curative dose, for the overdose, the rendering comatose of a perfectly reasonable word.
Want to exalt your sock collection? Tell the world it’s been curated by Rihanna. She’s a sock designer now and for you she curated the fibres, the machines, the workers – everything that went into your new sock. No heel unturned to bring you a content curated sock.
Having friends over for dinner? Tell them the meal was curated by your 100 mile farmer. Yum – curated carrots.
Want to sanctify your collection of Halloween candy-wrappers? Curated from your daughter’s rejects – Pixie Stix and Bazooka Gum – which were about to be tossed but isn’t that what curation is? Isn’t a museum a collection of resurrected artefacts dug from middens and graves?
Need to justify the purchase of another chipped tea cup from your favourite antique store (carefully curated antiques, of course)? Naturellement, it is for your collection, initially curated by your grandmother and you are merely continuing the family tradition. You are a curator. Be proud.
The flour in artisanal bread? From hand-sifted, curated grains of course.
The leather in your shoes? Curated. And cured, too.
The ingredients in your shampoo? Curated chemicals of course.
Don’t forget the dogs in the dog-tired collection. They’re not random, you know. Likewise those ducks in a row you’ve been working on and the fish in a barrel you’ve been popping with your B.B. gun. Oh, and those pellets in the gun? Yep. Curated by the finest munitions workers in the history of the world.
It’s time for a word purge. Join us in expunging the curates of everything. Restore the word to its rightful place of care for the rare and valuable. Demand a stop to wanton curation. Curb the curation calamity! Resist!