Hyphens: Humanity’s Dumbest Obsession With a Tiny Stick

You know what makes me want to set my keyboard on fire? Hyphens. Those microscopic scratches on the page that somehow manage to divide nations, destroy friendships, and convince otherwise sane people that they alone understand the True and Sacred Rules.

Let’s get one thing straight: hyphens are punctuation’s version of IKEA’s allen key. You hate it, you lose it, but somehow you need it. And when you try to use it? Congratulations, your sentence now looks like it’s being held hostage.

The Basic Hyphen (-): The Wannabe Glue Stick

Sure, it’s meant to hold things together. “Mother-in-law.” Cute. But then humanity decided to abuse it. Suddenly everything is world-class-leading-edge-super-premium-handcrafted-bullshit-certified. Stop. Please. Your LinkedIn headline isn’t a compound word, it’s a cry for help.

And the double meaning problem? “Re-cover” = put the lid back on. “Recover” = stop being half-dead. Forget that hyphen and suddenly you’re mixing medical advice with Tupperware instructions.

The En Dash (–): The Middle Child Nobody Asked For

The en dash is like the forgotten cousin at Christmas dinner. Technically it has a job: “1990–2020.” Nice, clean, simple. But here’s the problem: nobody knows it exists. And the people who do know? Oh, they won’t shut up about it.

They strut around like punctuation priests: “Actually, the en dash is correct for ranges, not the hyphen.” Congratulations, Gregory, you’ve peaked. Meanwhile, 99% of the planet just types “1990-2020” and gets on with their lives.

The Em Dash (—): The Dramaqueen of Doom

Here comes the em dash, barging into sentences like it owns the place. Big. Loud. Attention-seeking. It’s supposed to indicate dramatic pauses. Instead, it’s abused by every wannabe writer who thinks they’re edgy.

“I was going to the store—wait for it—when suddenly—” No. Stop. This is not a Marvel movie trailer. You’re buying milk. Calm down.

And don’t think I forgot about you, Microsoft Word. Who asked you to autocorrect my “–” into a full Broadway entrance em dash? If I wanted my sentence to look like it had a sword fight in the middle, I’d write in emojis.

The Minus Sign (−): The Eternal Identity Crisis

Mathematicians insist it’s sacred. Writers think it’s just another hyphen. The result? Pure chaos. “2-3” — subtraction? A football score? A lazy attempt at an en dash? Who knows. At this point, I’m convinced the minus sign is just punctuation’s middle finger to humanity.

The Typographic Purists

And here comes the worst part: that guy. You know the one. The smug typographic gatekeeper who tells you you’ve used the wrong dash. “Actually, that’s a figure dash, not a hyphen.” Oh thank you, Professor Fontsnob. You’ve saved literature itself. Now crawl back into your kerning dungeon before I replace you with Comic Sans.

The Barcode Effect

Too many hyphens and dashes make your text look like it’s been mugged by a barcode. Your paragraph is no longer writing, it’s perforated packaging. I half expect to scan it at checkout and hear, “That’ll be $3.99.”

Final Screech Into the Void

So here’s the deal: the hyphen is supposed to be a tool. Instead, it’s become punctuation’s version of a toddler with a crayon — chaos everywhere, and somehow we’re all too polite to take it away.

Use a hyphen if you must. Use an en dash if you want to impress three nerds on Twitter. Use an em dash sparingly, like hot sauce — too much and you ruin the dish. And for god’s sake, if you’re the person who corrects strangers about the minus sign… may every sentence you write autocorrect to “ducking.”

Hyphens. They’re not helping. They’re just tiny sticks of linguistic terrorism.