Somewhere in the history of language, somebody apparently looked at the phrase “blind, deaf, and dumb” and thought, You know what this needs? Stupid.

Apparently, subtlety had called in sick.

The funny part is that “dumb” originally meant unable to speak. It did not mean stupid. So the original phrase was describing three separate things: someone who could not see, could not hear, and could not speak.

Then English did what English does. It took a perfectly serviceable word, gave it another meaning, turned that meaning into an insult, and left future generations wondering why anyone needed to say “dumb AND stupid.”

That is linguistic overkill.

It is like calling someone broke, penniless, financially destitute, and “also, just so we are clear, they have no money.”

Yet the phrase accidentally created a rather useful description of a certain kind of human behavior.

You can be blind to the evidence sitting directly in front of you.

You can be deaf to every person trying to explain it.

You can remain dumb, in the original sense, by contributing absolutely nothing useful to the conversation.

And then, after accomplishing that remarkable trifecta, you can still open your mouth and remove all remaining doubt.

That last part is where “stupid” earns its seat at the table.

The disabilities were never the problem.

Blind people perceive plenty. Deaf people communicate brilliantly. People who do not speak have plenty to say.

Stupidity requires none of those disabilities.

Sometimes it just requires a perfectly functional set of eyes and ears, an operational brain, unlimited access to information—and the breathtaking determination to use absolutely none of them.

You weren’t born blind, deaf, or unable to speak.

You worked your ass off to become stupid.

And here is the final insult:

The people who actually are blind, deaf, or unable to speak still managed to see this coming, hear the warning, and make more sense than you did.

Apparently, the only disability in this particular cliché was the one you chose.