I Need My Meds!!

Valium

My OCD about proper, correct English usage nearly gnawed its way out of my thick skull. My automatic proof-reader was on angel dust, and my internal editor was having heart palpitations.

Shortly after I composed my Blog – How to be taken seriously, I found this post. The writer is an example of an English redneck. If this guy were living in the US, he’d be wearing a MAGA hat, and helping Trump build a wall.

Since he states that he is English, to have his racist screed taken seriously, it would really help if he could write it in The Queen’s English. I only downloaded the title, which is what caught my attention, and the first two paragraphs. It continued to offend my eye and my sensibilities for another illiterate, rambling three paragraphs. I stopped counting the errors after about 100. I couldn’t see them all, through my tears.

Here it is, with most, but not necessarily all, the errors highlighted.

Their our to many Pakistans in my town Luton too ignore its time to take are country back now!

By Timmy Rodinson

Im going too explain this in the most simplest of ways too make you understand what is really going on in are nation right: I was born in england and that makes me english and a british because I am british. If your a muslim your a muslim so it doesn’t matter were you were born in because your a muslim. its as simple as this. so if your an islamist muslim you are not and can never be english or british no matter where your born because you are not from english history and your taking are identity to make islamist

suicide bombers who you are giving birth too and were not going to stand for it any longer we our taking back are country from you sick violent muslim imigrants. its as simple as this. that does not make me a racialist that makes me proud to be from a country that does’nt send people to other countrys to bomb millions of inocent people like has been happening in france and europe and there our just not enough people speaking up for peoples who want’s for are people to live in a country that is’nt run by shuria laws that are from rapist genocidal ideilogy. its as simple as this. your not british and you should leave to your muslim homeland in pakistan or iran or suadi arabia were you’re religion’s are from.

He certainly made me take him seriously…. Seriously disturbed! Oy, learn correct spelling and punctuation and language construction, then we can clearly communicate our distaste for your racist ramblings. Seriously Tommy, you’re giving soccer hooligans a bad name.  🙄

This post is only about how upset I am with his misusage and mangling of my Mother Tongue.  I’ll leave his social and political views for another day.  Feel free to comment about them, though.  😯

 

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I Wish You Hadn’t Said That

Being a rant about the things that people write without thinking, mostly, but not entirely, incorrect homonyms.  Crossword puzzles still irk me when the creators don’t really know what they’re talking about.  The Canadian province Alberta, can be rendered AB, Alt. or Alta, but not Alba.  That’s another name for Scotland.

“Refrain from” does not mean cease.  Refrain means not doing something.  Cease means you’re already doing it and must stop.  A video was titled “crazy way to tow a bus”, and showed it being pushed.  Towed means being pulled.  Pushed means not being towed.

Connotation vs. denotation means, what people think things mean, instead of what they really do mean.  Often secondary meanings become so common that the original gets lost.  If I were hungry, I might be a little testy, but peckish means hungry, not testy.  I get a bit testy when people don’t know that.

Ordinary folk using the wrong word is common, but it especially irks me when someone who really should know, doesn’t.  Probably not old enough to remember wringer washing-machines, the female leader of a Provincial political party claimed that, “The Liberals are putting us through the ringer.”  What a ding-a-ling.

The editor of an on-line publishing company got rid of a troublesome client, and wrote, “Good riddens to bad rubbish.” apparently not knowing the existence of the word riddance, and that riddens is not a word in English.

A successful author’s character, “Reloaded his weapons, and checked his partner’s ordinance.”  There’s a law against that, because weaponry is ordnance.  This man has three university degrees, works for NASA, and has six successful books – just not a publisher with a proof-reader.

“Grant shirked back into his leather duster” and the author shirked his duty to discover that the correct word is shucked – to remove from, or in this case, return to, an outer covering.

“I’m not the kind of mother who pawns her children off.”  I didn’t know you could get money for the little ba….bies.  She should use some to catch a magic show.  Closely watching a card trick will show you how the performer palms the card.

For all intensive purposes – or, for all intense and purposes.  My intents (intentions) and purpose is to remind people to think about the correct word.

I despair of ever having the general public correctly use the forms of lie and lay.  Misusage is endemic in newspapers, and on TV.  “Danny DeVito and his wife laid low.”  If you are “laid low” you’re dead.  Lay requires a noun to perform its action on.  Lie doesn’t.  You can lie down, and lay your head on a pillow.  You can lay your mistress, and lie to your wife about it.

I am sadly amused by those who are illiterate enough to not know that the word segue is pronounced seg-way, but have the arrogance to “correct” it by writing segue-way.  I mentioned it to the great Edward Hotspur when he did it, and was promptly run over by his turbo-charged ego.

We go back to the pawnshop for the story of a young man and woman who hocked their virginity online.  In aggressively promoting something for sale, they hawked the product.  A businessman offered Brittany Spears $2 million for her virginity.  This gal got $68,000!  The guy just got a lot of people shaking their heads.

A man who’s reputation preceded him should have thought, damn it, if it has an apostrophe, it’s an abbreviation.  Whose yer English teacher?

A woman wanted to sell an original addition of War and Peace.  Damn, it’s long enough already!  Why would you want to increase it?  Another genius wanted to sell a Star Wars action figure – Job of the Hut.  I thought nerds could read and write.

They failed to chalk the truck in place, after arriving early to get a good birth on the ferry, and its parking breaks failed.  This author/book must take some sort of prize for having the most mistakes in one sentence.  I’m sure you already know, but the correct words are chock, berth, and brakes.

After seen the video, or, I seen the video.  One wrong word taking the places of both seeing, and saw.

He hit one out of the part.  What!!?  Let’s hope that was just a baseball typo.

It meant that, simply foot…  Simply put, I don’t even want to know what the author thought the word foot meant in that context, oh damn, that thought word again.

For sale – radio arm saw.  I wonder if it’s AM/FM.  I have a bionic shoulder.  What’s a radio arm?

Don’t say anymore, the game’s a foot, just proves that two words don’t mean the same as a single compound word.  Allot means to divide, or portion out.  I see that a lotAlot is a lot closer, but still not proper English.

It is not a case and point.  It is a case in point, in case no-one pointed that out.  And it’s neck and neck, side by side, not neck in neck, which is impossible.  Think damn it!

A palace spokesman changed his tact.  If he’d been a sailor, he’d have correctly changed his tack.

There was wed paint on the rod iron railing.  I know you got the wet paint.  Did you know the railing was wrought iron?  Hogs get into chicken coups…and cause double entenders.  Hey, if you can’t handle English, stay away from French or someone could get hurt.

The wing snapped off the plane, and it augured into the ground.  Well, I could have foretold that.  The spirally thing you’re vaguely thinking of, is an auger.  While we’re talking about machine-tools, she wore a fancy broach on her lapel.  Not my Mom, she wore a brooch.

For better or words, (Ow! Ow! Ow!) that’s all my rants for this time.  Come back soon and I’ll tell you a funny story.

One, Two, Three….Lovely

Oyez!  Oyez!  Oyez!

Attend, that ye may know that the ever-magnificent Archon, and his always-awesome, if slightly soporific blog-site, The Archon’s Den, have been the worthy and justified recipients of yet another iteration of the Lovely Blog Award.

This time I have Rick, over at www.roderickdavidson.wordpress.com to thank for this well-deserved honor.  Rick was born in Quebec, but later moved to the United States.  With two strikes like that against him, it’s a good thing that he’s a Hell of an author.  He provided me with training to be a proof-reader and editor.  It’s not that he planned to.  It’s just that I was fool enough to think I already knew how.

The fact that this award may have been hastily handed off, like a live hand-grenade, in no way reduces the grandeur of the awardee and his site.  Unless you just got here from BlogSpot, you probably know the rules of this game.  I’m supposed to thank the person who tossed this thing on my front porch.  In case you didn’t notice the wording above, Thanks, Rick, or as I say, Thanx.  I’m supposed to provide a link back to his website.  I took the technological shortcut but, Done, and Done!

I’m supposed to give five facts about me and forward the award to five more unsuspecting bloggers with better things to do than respond to my detritus.  My regular readers already know more about me than my proctologist….ew, ew, ew!  Let’s see what else I can reveal that won’t bring on police action or restraining orders.

  1. I am right-handed.  That may not seem like much of a revelation.  90% of the population is, but creative people, like many of my readers, tend toward being left-handed.  How about it, do you want to admit which way you swing?  No!  Not like that.
  2. I was a golf pro.  I knew shit about golf.  I gave no instruction, and I sure as Hell wasn’t paid like one, but for about four months, the summer I was 19, I was on the books at a Country Club as the pro.  It ruined my chances at a successful tour as an amateur.  No, it didn’t!  I’ll include a little more detail in a later post.
  3. The small town I was born and raised in had the widest main street in Canada.  Well, that’s what I was told when I was young.  I’ve since found a couple that are equal, but none wider.  Since the main street in my town wasn’t the highway, when it was laid out, instead of being 66 feet wide, it got to be 100.  There was room for angle parking on both sides, a lane of traffic in both directions, and still enough room to park transport trucks in the middle, for delivery to stores.  That was necessary because the alleys that ran behind them were barely wide enough for horse-drawn wagons.  It was nice to drive downtown, see a parking space on the other side, and just swing across and nose into it.
  4. A young man and his family moved to town just as I started high school.  We quickly became best friends, and thick as thieves, although we never got caught.  Despite my exposure to summer tourists from the big cities, he helped me become a bit more urbane, and less a dorky small-town kid.  After four years of school with him, my Dad revealed that his father and mine had discussed trading houses, and towns.  My Dad drove a half-hour to work at an RCA Victor plant, and felt he could cut out the commute.  It was well that they made the move before we actually traded.  Product lines and profitability changed, and Dad soon got another job in town.
  5. I used to love roller-skating.  I still would except for age, strength, balance and breakability, that, and the fact that it’s pretty much officially dead.  It used to cycle about every fifteen years.  It would be popular for five years, then it would die back again.  Inline skates seem to have driven the last nail in the coffin, at least in this area.  I just saw an advertisement on a Boston TV station for a roller rink.

There was one roller-rink in this city when I first arrived.  The city transit even had special buses from and to city hall, for skaters.  It was a bus driver who gave me my first E. E. “Doc” Smith science fiction book, and added his name to my roster.  Three more new rinks were built, and enjoyed the five-year frolic.  One of them is now a furniture store, one is a dance club, and the third is an auction warehouse.  Never a good skater, it was nonetheless my moves on the floor which helped convince my girlfriend to become my wife.

I don’t think that I’ll name five more bloggers to rope into this publishing Ponzi-scheme.  I’ve just about reached my saturation point for reading blogs.  Occasionally I try, and like, a blog I haven’t previously read, and add it to my list, but, at 30 to 40 posts a day to read, I’ve about run out of time and strength.

Pretty much any of the blog sites I frequent deserve a little recognition and pat on the back, I’m just not sure who wishes to be bothered with one.  If I’ve commented on your site, or even just *liked* you, and you’d like a pretty decoration for your wall, feel free to drop by and pick one up and spread the joy.

Last minute change of mind!  If anyone deserves this kind of recognition, it’s the erudite and entertaining John Erickson, over at his new blog www.windycitywonderer.wordpress.com   Welcome to the wolf pack John.  Feel free to howl!