Wet is the new dry.
Bogs are the new Xtra Tuffs.
Dark is the new light, which makes it exceptionally difficult to do anything productive before 10 am and after 3 pm… and even that requires freebasing 5-Hour Energy.
Snow is the new sun.
Slush is the new snow.
Cowering indoors for a week and a half under threat of sub-zero wind chill followed by major flooding and ice events is the new Winter Break. And apparently the new weekend, too.
Solstice is the new equinox.
Emojis are the new hieroglyphics. That’s right — 5,000 years after the dawn of Ancient Egypt and we’re right back to pictographs.
Beets are the new Brussels sprouts, which, in and of themselves, are the new kale.
Underemployed is the new employed.
Unemployed is the new underemployed.
“Fire” is the new “cool.” “Lame” is still “lame.”
Squeezable single serving pouches of applesauce are the new Go-Gurt. Finally, we can enjoy applesauce on the run.
Retro is the new futuristic.
Bubly is the new La Croix, both of which are a diet soda addict’s methadone.
Hard is the new soft, with regard to tacos.
Soft is the new hard, with regard to pretzels.
Government elections are the new Academy Awards.
The Academy Awards are the new Grammy Awards.
The Grammy Awards are the new… wait, didn’t they stop holding those?
Woof is the new meh.
Axe Body Spray is the new Drakkar Noir.
Composting is the new recycling.
Humans are the new dinosaurs.
Country is the new western.
“Orange is the New Black” is a widely acclaimed comedy-drama series on Netflix. It’s got Natasha Lyonne AND Laura Prepon, if you happen to have a thing for Gen X redheads. I know I do…
Screaming children are the new alarm clock, at least in my house, at least until both my kids can keep track of their own charging blocks and stop busting in to steal mine like they’re a SWAT team serving some kind of no-knock warrant.
Wet is the new dry. What? I used that one already? Yeah, well, things have been especially wet lately.
50 is the new 40, 40 is the new 30, and 30 is the new 20, but 20 is still one year below the legal drinking age. Who’s laughing now? Me, because I’ve had a few. Legally.
Açaí is the new cranberry.
Goji is the new açaí. What can I say? Things move fast in the world of anti-oxidant juice blends.
Complicated is the new simple.
Debt-ridden is the new financially solvent.
Texting is the new smoking.
Casual comparisons to historical dictators is the new productive political discourse.
Protests are the new brunch.
Parenthood is the new childhood (but with no time outs).
Chupacabra is the new sasquatch. Trust me on this.
Almond butter is the new peanut butter. Trust me on this, too. I never mess around when discussing nut butters.
Zombies are the new vampires.
New New York is the new New York in Philip K. Dick’s classic sci-fi novel “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?”; in “Blade Runner,” the movie version, it’s Los Angeles. Weird.
Noise is the new silence.
Outrage is the new joy.
Same as the old boss, is the new boss… at least according to the Who.
The January 6th Committee is the new “Deflategate.” Don’t you long for the days when convening special Congressional hearings was merely a guise for politicians to meet their favorite sports stars?
Short, nerdy and rich is the new tall, dark and handsome.
Aoli is the new mayo.
A long list of non-sequitirs following a gimmicky structure way beyond its novelty is the new well-crafted, pointed personal essay.
Donnie Wahlberg, Jordan Knight, Joey McIntyre, Jonathan Knight and Danny Wood are the New Kids on the Block — and they’re still touring, even though the youngest member is 49!
Earnest is the new ironic.
Mean is the new nice.
Metaphor is the new simile.
Facebook is the new CBS. Seriously, it’s just us fogies on there. Go ask your teenage daughter (or take the word of mine).
Fifteen minute chunks is the new way I attack my whole unending, constantly wakeful, underemployed, over-stressed, debt-ridden, gravel-strewn, aoli-slathered, chupacabra-infested life. And you know what? It’s working for me.
Optimism is the new pessimism. It has to be if, in the words of the classic folk anthem, we shall overcome someday.
• Geoff Kirsch is an award-winning Juneau-based writer and humorist. “Slack Tide” appears twice monthly in Neighbors.