I’m not talking about the often misplaced comma or
mind-boggling semi-colon. I mean,
really. A semi-colon. What anal-retentive thought that up? I’m talking about the language we use every
day when we talk to each other.
Remember talking? It was
popular before the invention of the Internet.
Maybe, as a writer, I’m more sensitive to the use
of language. I realize that sounds
elitist as hell, but really, there are some verbal turds out there that should
offend anyone with an education above the third grade and not living in
Mississippi.
For example, the past tense for drag is dragged
not drug, as in “Look what the cat dragged
in.” Dragged is a verb. Drug is a noun. Well, now I take that back. Drug can be a verb, but only when referring
to the administering of drugs as in, “Did you drug your date?” But mostly
it’s a noun. Which brings us back to
the proverbial cat, and while we often attribute to cats strange and wondrous
powers, in truth they are incapable of drugging
anything. Yet turn on any talk show or newscast and you
will see people who should know better misusing the word “drug” all the time and,
because of the power of television, it then spreads like an epidemic of head
lice.
Or take the simple concept of singular and plural: “Is” and “are.” I can’t hear the sentence, “There’s photos
of Anthony Weiner’s dick on the Internet” without weeping, and not because we’ve
all been subjected to pictures of his pathetic private parts. “There
are photos” or the contraction, “There’re.” What’s so damn hard about that? No
pun intended.
And don’t even get me started on, “I should have
went to the store.” It’s “I should have gone to the store.” Were you raised in a barn?
I feel much better now knowing I’ve done my part
to protect this nation from, if not outright destruction, certainly
worldwide ridicule. If I could only
rid the country of Rush Limbaugh.
I was compensated by
Grammarly for this post because yes, I can be bought. Any lingering grammatical errors were entirely
intentional and fall under the category of artistic license. Yeah.
Me and Hemmingway. That’s right,
baby.
