The Department of Lexical Emergencies confirmed Tuesday that pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis—the 45-letter behemoth describing a lung disease caused by inhaling volcanic ash—has been formally adopted as the mandatory word for all government communications, restaurant menus, and romantic poetry. Citizens nationwide report immediate symptoms including tongue cramps, existential dread, and an uncontrollable urge to alphabetize their spice racks. "We're not saying it's literally contagious," explained Dr. Thaddeus Quibble of the National Institute of Overly Specific Terminology, "but three interns fainted just trying to transcribe this press release. Coincidence? The CDC thinks not."
Local bakeries have replaced croissants with "Pneumo Rolls"—dense, ash-gray pastries requiring 45 precise folds. Meanwhile, the popular dating app "Tinder" rebranded as "Pneumonoinder," where matches expire after 4.5 seconds—the average time required to pronounce the word correctly. "My last date asked me to spell it backward," lamented Brenda Glimmerbottom, 32. "Turns out 'sino...' something isn't a romantic gesture. Also, my jaw is dislocated."
The crisis escalated when the word spontaneously manifested as a physical entity during a congressional hearing. Witnesses describe a shimmering, 12-foot-tall column of vibrating letters that crushed three lobbyists and a water cooler before dissolving into a fine silica dust. "It just... exhaled on Representative Jenkins," gasped aide Chip McTavish. "Now he only communicates in Morse code taps and severe side-eye." Postal workers refuse to handle mail containing the word, citing "unacceptable envelope-bursting risks," while kindergarten teachers report children staging sit-ins demanding simpler vocabulary like "dragon" or "cupcake."
In a last-ditch effort, the CDC recommends humming the word to the tune of "Yankee Doodle" while standing on one foot—a technique that reportedly reduced pronunciation time by 17 seconds but caused spontaneous yodeling in 83% of test subjects. "We're not panicking," insisted Press Secretary Glenda Stutterworth, pausing to sip muscle relaxants from a sippy cup. "We're merely... recalibrating our relationship with consonants. Also, please stop whispering it near printers. The toner cartridges are screaming." Experts warn the situation may worsen when the word inevitably trends on TikTok as a dance challenge.