"Is "tired old cliche" one?"
About this Quote
A six-word joke turns a stock condemnation back on itself. The phrase "tired old cliche" is the familiar hammer critics use to flatten overused turns of phrase. Asking whether that hammer is itself a cliche folds the critique inward, making a quick, elegant loop. The humor lies in self-reference, but the point is not just wordplay. It also exposes how easy it is to sound discerning by invoking a formula of disdain that has itself become formulaic.
There is a faint echo here of the classic puzzle about autological and heterological words: does a word describe itself or not? "Short" is short; "polysyllabic" is polysyllabic. By that logic, "cliche" would be cliche if it shows up in the same set, and "tired old cliche" surely sounds like it belongs there. The joke nudges the reader toward that recognition without pronouncing a verdict, letting the paradox do the work.
Redundancy adds another layer. A cliche already implies worn-out familiarity; calling it tired and old piles on adjectives that serve more as ritual signals than as information. That overkill is precisely how cliches sustain themselves: they are convenient, quick to summon, and socially recognized. They offer the comfort of shared understanding at the cost of precision and freshness.
There is also a moral for writers and critics. Dismissing something as a cliche can be a pose that substitutes cleverness for engagement. If the act of calling out cliche leans on a cliche, the critique risks collapsing into what it condemns. The line, then, is both a jab and a reminder: vigilance against tired language must include our own rhetorical habits.
By packing this into a single sardonic question, Rod Schmidt locates the boundary where wit, logic, and style intersect. The result is a compact exercise in self-awareness, inviting readers to hear the grooves their language runs in and to step sideways, if only for a sentence, into something less automatic.
There is a faint echo here of the classic puzzle about autological and heterological words: does a word describe itself or not? "Short" is short; "polysyllabic" is polysyllabic. By that logic, "cliche" would be cliche if it shows up in the same set, and "tired old cliche" surely sounds like it belongs there. The joke nudges the reader toward that recognition without pronouncing a verdict, letting the paradox do the work.
Redundancy adds another layer. A cliche already implies worn-out familiarity; calling it tired and old piles on adjectives that serve more as ritual signals than as information. That overkill is precisely how cliches sustain themselves: they are convenient, quick to summon, and socially recognized. They offer the comfort of shared understanding at the cost of precision and freshness.
There is also a moral for writers and critics. Dismissing something as a cliche can be a pose that substitutes cleverness for engagement. If the act of calling out cliche leans on a cliche, the critique risks collapsing into what it condemns. The line, then, is both a jab and a reminder: vigilance against tired language must include our own rhetorical habits.
By packing this into a single sardonic question, Rod Schmidt locates the boundary where wit, logic, and style intersect. The result is a compact exercise in self-awareness, inviting readers to hear the grooves their language runs in and to step sideways, if only for a sentence, into something less automatic.
Quote Details
| Topic | Witty One-Liners |
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