This game, as Stan Carey points out at Sentence First, always draws a lot of players. In fact, as you can see on the comments at Johnson's post on the same subject, all you have to do is broach the subject, and people start trotting out their nominees, like so many would-be Torquemadas hustling the condemned to the stake.
The extremity of the responses speaks to how much we personalize the language. Imagine if a restaurant critic or food writer posted an article and was overwhelmed by commenters crying "Ban Broccoli!" "No, liver!" "No, sweetbreads!" "No, cilantro!" It would start to look odd, but it is almost inevitable on language posts, particularly as the topic drift sets in.
Now in my professional, judicial capacity, I pass judgment and sentence on words all day long. Cliche, out. Obscure, deleted. Imprecise, substituted. Vulgar, oh no. That is the job, and I am ruthless.
Here, of course, I can suit my own tastes almost exclusively.
But in private life, I am easygoing, a life-and-let-live type not unlike the amiable Mr. Carey. I used to work with an editor whose signature word was "Awesome!" Nearly anything was "Awesome!" In writing, it would have been a maddening tic. In person, and at intervals, it contributed to his idiosyncratic charm. This is America, and people can talk as they like. Not that you could stop them.
Also like Mr. Carey, I wonder why anyone would want to ban words in the first place. Yes, for editorial purposes a little Amish shunning seems apt, but not obliterating them from the language. Besides, the language attends to itself. The OED is full of words that paraded for their little time and then fell by the wayside. Neologisms and slang and vogue terms come and go, some lingering, but most subject to a Darwinian winnowing.
Besides, as you can see from Jonathan Swift's scorn for the word mob, you have no way of determining what is going to be ephemeral and what is going to be lastingly useful. You just can't tell, so you might as well ease up.