I have a list in a small black notebook I always carry with me. The list is headed “WORDS I HATE,” and anytime I hear a hackneyed word or phrase, I write it down and do my best never to use it. Politicians are notorious abusers of language, so it’s hardly a surprise that the 2008 provincial election added a few more words to my list.

I keep this list because words matter. In his brilliant essay Politics and the English Language, George Orwell wrote that the “invasion of one’s mind by ready-made phrases… can only be prevented if one is constantly on guard against them, and every such phrase anesthetizes a portion of one’s brain.” To keep my brain alive and help yours stay that way too, I offer these selections from my hate list.

CONSERVATIVES: ‘CHANGE’

Observers of the 2008 U.S. presidential race have complained at length about the overuse of the word “change” in the campaign. “It's hard to think of a more meaningless political watchword,” wrote Slate writer Timothy Noah in a January op-ed in the Los Angeles Times. Maybe he’s right — but at least a Barack Obama presidency, or even a Clinton presidency, would actually be a change from the Bush administration.

If Noah hates the word “change” when Obama uses it, he’d flip if he came to Alberta. According to the one party in our one-party state, change means a 2008 PC majority. You could be forgiven for thinking that a 2008 PC majority is the same as PC majorities from 2004, 2001, 1997, 1993, 1989, 1986, 1982, 1979, 1975 and 1971. No way, says Ed Stelmach and his crew. The Conservative government is, inexplicably, a “change that works for Albertans.”

This slogan has no discernible meaning. Early in the campaign, blogger CalgaryGrit said the Conservatives’ change strategy was “either brilliant or mind-numbingly stupid.” Maybe it was both — brilliant, because it worked so well; yet stupid, because when you actually stopped and thought about the words, you realized they had absolutely no connection to reality.

NDP: ‘ORDINARY ALBERTANS’

The NDP apparently cares for neither extraordinary Albertans nor irregular families. What else are we supposed to think after the party spent the entire election campaign talking about how it’s on the side of “ordinary Albertans” and “regular families?” Leader Brian Mason used variations of these two phrases incessantly during the campaign, and I have yet to understand what, exactly, constitutes a “regular family.” A mom, a dad and kids? What about one parent? Two dads? So much for the NDP’s inclusiveness. Who will stand up for the irregular families in Alberta, Brian?

Politicians presumably talk about “ordinary,” “regular” and “average” voters and families because they want to relate to folks who live outside the legislature. While it’s meant to sound impressive, it just sounds patronizing. Nobody refers to their friends as “ordinary friends.” Nor would you hear someone say “we met an ordinary family the other day.” Yet politicians like Mason speak this way all the time, and they think it makes them more likable.

Mason’s “regular Albertan” talk was especially absurd in Calgary, because the NDP portrayed itself as protecting “ordinary Albertans” from “Big Oil” (another phrase that, in time, could make it onto my hate list). Thing is, in Calgary, many “regular families” depend on the energy industry for their paycheques. The NDP talks about “Big Oil” like it’s some abstract evil force like the devil. But in reality, the energy industry in this city is peopled by, um, people — the same people Mason was presumably trying to reach. So really, the NDP was insulting Calgarians and their employers. No wonder this city hasn’t had an NDP MLA since 1993.

LIBERALS: ‘FLIP-FLOP’

When used properly, this word refers to “an abrupt reversal of policy.” (That’s according to the Canadian Oxford Dictionary.) However, the word is usually used to deride the thing we need more of in politics: wisdom. People change their minds all the time. It’s what responsible human beings do: when they learn something new, they go back and re-evaluate their beliefs. They carefully consider information and respond accordingly. But when a politician does this necessary work and changes his or her mind, it’s called “flip-flopping.” And in politics, there’s nothing worse than being branded a “flip-flopper.”

After the televised leaders debate in February, the Liberals sent out a press release saying NDP leader Brian Mason had “flip-flopped” on oilsands development. Mason was “always in favour of a moratorium,” the Liberals said, until the night of the leaders debate.

First off, the accusation was simply not true. I spoke with an NDP staffer a few weeks prior, and was told the party had stopped calling for a moratorium, and was instead calling for a slowdown. Even if it was true that the policy didn’t change until that night, it still wouldn’t be a “flip-flop.” Moving from calling for a moratorium on new projects to calling for slowdown is hardly a policy reversal. It’s more like a subtle shift — barely discernible, in fact, which explains why the Liberals hadn’t heard about it until debate night.

So there you have it: three parties and three merciless abuses of language. Always be on your guard and keep your mind alive.