Maybe we've been pointing to the wrong culprits when we attempt to assign blame for the dumbing down of America. (What is it this week  too much testing in the schools? Working mothers? Fox TV? It's hard to keep track.)

It is quite possible that people are growing dumber than dog biscuits for the simple reason that they are being treated this way by the world in which they shop.

Here's the sign on a hanger at K-Mart: "Standard, full-size hanger holds everything from wash and wear to outwear!"

Yes, that complex and daunting device dangling there in home furnishings can be used with every confidence to hang your clothes  and not just certain, very specific clothes: wash and wear AND outerwear, which usually demand such very different hardware. Hurrah.

Of course, it's not just hangers out there hitting you over the head.

It's food: "Croissant swirls ideal for snacking!" (They are? Could that be why they're sold in the grocery store?)

And clothing: "Choose your favorites!" suggests the sign at Children's Place. (Gee, may I?)

Even once-reticent office supplies have taken to yammering. This ballpoint pen, says a Pentel package, is "for notes and general writing." RoseArt assures buyers that its erasers are fully ready to "erase and erase and erase." Paper Mate boasts of a pencil: "Ideal for school work and general writing."

It's less than ideal for broiling with lime and garlic, I'm guessing. Not to be used as a giant toothpick? Cannot, in a pinch, serve as a very narrow snowshoe?

"I'm looking at a package of Crayola crayons right now," the author of "Punk Marketing," Richard Laermer, a student of the advertising absurd, said. "It says, Good for children.'"

When it's reached the point that the folks at Crayola see fit to tell you that the quintessential childhood item is the quintessential childhood item, something 's wrong.

The problem can be partly traced back to that most American of fears: litigation. This has, admittedly, led to some great moments in labeling. Not just the old, "Contents may be hot because it's a CUP OF COFFEE," but also more baroque missives, such as the one I found on the box of a little electric heater.

Among its 17 instructions (including, first and foremost, "Read all instructions") was the advice: "To disconnect, turn to off,' then grip plug and pull from wall outlet." That way, when you happen to assume the best way to disconnect the heater is actually to turn it to "high," submerge it in the tub, and lower your naked body  and your cat  in after it, you cannot blame the company for any discomfort you (or your pet) may feel.

Fear of lawsuits alone cannot explain the painfully obvious explanations on painfully obvious objects, however. When a duster says, "For removing dust"  and I just saw one that does  it's not because the company is worried someone may use it in lieu of a tibia transplant. It's because we really are becoming a nation of idiots and dummies. Just like the book titles tell us.

Americans have not only come to expect absolutely everything to be spelled out for them  they appreciate it, a consultant with the marketing firm Group 1066, Todd Merriman, says. "It may make a difference in their purchase," he said when I asked him why the maker of a rain poncho felt compelled to note on its hang tag, "Made of waterproof vinyl." Added Mr. Merriman: "You've taken away some of the guesswork for your customer."

So, next time you go to the store and you see the umbrella that, according to its manufacturer, "Opens full size"; or you find a set of Dixie cups that promise to be usable "for all occasions" and not just, say, wakes, or you learn from the package of Halls cough drops that you are supposed to "dissolve one drop slowly in the mouth" and not use them as suppositories, be grateful for one thing: You have a standard, full-size hanger waiting for you at home.

With a little practice and maybe a glance at the manual, you can probably figure out how to hang up your coat and then enjoy what's left of your evening. And brain.