If advertisements within a certain sector of automobile sales are any indication, someone has added an eighth word to George Carlin's list of the seven one can't say on network television.
Of course, Carlin offered his list long before "NYPD Blue" — the daring police drama that broke television's taboo against dorsal shots of naked fat male actors — was even conceived. But while detective Andy Sipowicz was making the airwaves safe for scatological vernacular, an axis of axles from Germany, Japan and Detroit was busy removing another word from the marketing lexicon. That word is "used."
The ban is not total: Local resale establishments still employ the U word. But increasingly ads tout their wares as previously owned, pre-enjoyed, or in a mournfully promiscuous turn, pre-loved.
Chances are good some creative whiz kid suggested "pre-possessed" until a cooler head noted a) to someone with a dictionary, prepossessed actually means preoccupied and b) folks without a dictionary would surely bring up images of Linda Blair just before she started spitting pea soup.
"Previously owned" is the most sterile of the acceptable new terms, and in that it is the most dishonest. The only way a previously owned car isn't "used" is if, in fact, it wasn't driven: It sat on blocks in front of the owner's home, or even worse never made it off the dealer's lot. Either way, it's not a candidate for a new master.
Like streptococci, the term pre-owned has been around long enough for consumers to start building up resistance. To combat this, Madison Avenue has given rise to an augmented phrase. Vehicles increasingly aren't merely pre-owned, they are certified pre-owned – just in case someone thought lingering fast food odors and cigarette burns in the upholstery were factory standard.
The offensiveness of "pre-loved" becomes apparent when it is applied beyond the realm of automobiles. Is the thrice-married Donald Trump pre-loved or just a he-slut?
This is not a trifling concern: At some point, the FCC may be called upon to determine the standards for whether a car is truly pre-loved. Consider the Audi. It might be practical, it might be sporty, and it might even be a babe magnet. But love is a pretty high standard. A former Audi owner who in his secret heart of hearts considered his car aloof could be setting himself, or his reseller, up for a nasty false advertising lawsuit.
The true loser in the quest for acceptable alternative terms for the U word is the used car salesman, he of the shiny-seated pants and checkered jacket. Could a seller of pre-loved vehicles ever achieve iconic stature among the world of grift? Probably not: More likely he would affect an understated blazer and a turtleneck while appearing on Oprah, urging viewers to show compassion for his abandoned charges.
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