

**To**

ALL who want to talk more better,

Write more gooder too,

Learn English how she's spoke and get 'er

Sounding, writ like you

Went to that novelest of schools,

And all its wit imbibed,

This doubly novel book of rules

Is tenderly inscribed. ****
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**  
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**A Brief Travel Guide**

** **

****

Every author of a book takes it as a given: readers, in rapt absorption, are in a transport. Yet, despite the redundancy, one of the many beauties of ebooks is the hyper-ease and convenience of being instantly transported to every part of the book, even beyond, via hyperlinks. Ms. Spinster deems them godsends. A founding member of The Olde School, she hadn't been getting around well for a heartache of years; and having so _much_ grammatical ground she yet wished to cover, she had lapsed into depression, where she might have languished away her declining days. But one glorious, salvational day she was made blissfully aware of ebooks. She could have wept, and did, for the beauty of it all. She embraced them with all her heart, as she might have embraced the lover of her dreams, though it taxed her imagination mightily, having no precedent. And the beauty so rubbed off on her that she was at once become quite the looker. She could hardly believe the mirror! Long a superannuated schoolmarm, her world a classroom, she was become a superanimated schoolgirl once more, getting around virtually everywhere more nimbly, instantly than she had gone, in the twinkling of an eye, from flowering maidenhood to dour spinsterhood.

Oh, and, Reader (prepare to pinch yourself), _you_ , that special someone she sees is really going places, are her sole chosen travel mate and language lover. And, naturally, so flattered, you are completely taken with her, wheresoever her young-again heart, throbbing with maiden passions anew, is desirous of going. With a resounding click on any of her links, in sonorous concert with the clicking of her false teeth and arthritic joints, no destination is too exotic or far-flung for you two lovebirds, though it be the book's furthest ends: _your_ sole pleasure. The romance of it! No long lineups or security checks; no valid passport required (she being for totally open borders); nor must you arrive three hours before departure and be subjected to metal detectors and mortifying x-ray screening, and have to take off your shoes. Your first-class cyber-flight (fancy it!) leaves the instant you want it to, and you arrive at your thrilling destination the same instant, fresh, and without so much as a moment's jet lag—with all your emotional baggage and body parts. What other means of transport, including love at first sight, is so moving? What's more, you have the first-class seat of your choosing, aisle or window, plus all the legroom in the world. Go ahead, recline your seatback as far as you want, even lay it flat, for who behind you is to complain? No one. You and she are the flight's sole passengers. And it couldn't be of greater romantic moment.

Oh, but, a moment gone, your exotic lovers' tryst a cherished memory, you have to think about getting back, right? Not a bit. Ms. Spinster has arranged your return flight* for you down to the smallest detail, including issuing you her most up-to-date

**Travel Advisory**

*"Look, before we lift off you need to know that not _all_ flights are regular return flights. While I made as many as I humanly could return flights, I made others with no designated return link. _Why didn't I make them all return flights?_ Well now a child would know the answer to that . . . you'd think. Because I _couldn't_. Take, for example, Tom Sawyer, who is always getting into some kind of mischief somewhere or other. Consequently, we find no less than four hotlinked points of departure for Tom throughout **Ms. Spinster's** , each of which instantly whisk you to Hannibal, Missouri, familiar scene of all his boyish pranks, and the tall tale he so fabulously illustrates. And because there's no little of Tom in you—is there?—you eagerly board the flight from one of the four points of departure. Arriving in Hannibal in the blink of an eye, you gaze wide-eyed as his tale unfolds, envying him all his mischievous pranks. And the moment it's over you're on fire to board the return flight, so you can pull off like youthful pranks around your hometown. Oh! but look where you will, there's _no_ return flight to your point of departure in sight. _Why is there no return flight?_ you cry, even though a child would know the answer: a regular return flight can only return to its _designated_ point of departure—and you boarded one of the other three. But there there now, don't cry a notion. I didn't bring you all this way to leave you stranded in mid-1800s Hannibal, Missouri. Here, dry your eyes. You'll be relieved to learn that you have several alternate, if roundabout, return options: first, you _could_ get back to your point of departure, eventually, via the **Search** or **Go** functions, or tediously navigate back through the **Table of Contents** —every time. But _why_ in the world would you when I was forward-thinking enough to have booked us on an alternate return flight leaving momently via **Back Button Air** , that's every bit as instantaneous and first class. What's more, unlike a regular return flight, it can return to _any_ of countless points of departure—and you don't even have to tell it which one; it knows, and whisks you there unerringly.

"So up to speed, you're good to go—and return—as instantly. What? _Flight insurance?_ Well _of course_ you should get it. And here it is:

have every assurance that, by using your back button for all return flights, you can blissfully forget about return links altogether, whether they are one-way or two-way, and lay your seatback flat, relax in total first-class comfort, and rest assured that you're safely aboard **Back Button Air** ( _You can't go wrong, or return wrong_ ®)."

Patient Reader, this travel guide has turned out to be a trifle longer than brief, and Ms. Spinster will only extend it a tad in order to leave you with this uplifting moral: you _can_ go home again, and you will, via any designated return link. But, really, the universal back button is the flight you want to catch, and will get you there in the first-class comfort you deserve and have come all this way to expect. Conveniently located in the ereader in front of you, with a single click, and the merest blink of an eye, you'll find yourself back at **GramAir** _(We get you there®)_ , gazing up, saucer-eyed, at the exhilarating roster of momently departing flights:

Table of Contents

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**__**

**__**

**_Book Cover_**

**_Title Page_**

**_Dedication_**

**_Epigraph_**

**_A Brief Travel Guide_**

**_Preface_**

**_Prologue_**

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**1. Ms. Spinster Comes of Age**

**2. Commencement Address**

**3. Grammatis Personae: The Players in the Grammar**

****

**PART 1: Grammar**

**4. Grammar**

**5. Nouns**

**6. Pronouns and Antecedents**

**7. Case of Pronouns**

**8. Verbs and Verbals**

**9. Subject–Verb Agreement**

**10. Adjectives and Adverbs**

**11. Conjunctions**

**12. Prepositions**

**13. Phrases**

**14. Clauses**

**15. Tenses and Tones**

**16. Moods**

****

**PART 2: Punctuation, Typography, and Spelling**

**17. Punctuation**

**18. Commas**

**19. Semicolons**

**20. Colons**

**21. End Stops**

**22. Periods . . . Ellipses**

**23. Question Marks**

**24. Exclamation Marks**

**25. Hyphens**

**26. Dashes**

**27. Virgules**

**28. Parentheses**

**29. Brackets**

**30. Quotation Marks**

**31. Apostrophes**

**32. Bullets**

****

**33. Typography**

**34. Italics**

**35. Capitals**

**36. Abbreviations**

**37. Numbers**

****

**38. Spelling**

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**PART 3: Style: How to Make a Perfect Sprachgefühl of Yourself**

**39. Style**

**40. Diction**

**41. Sentences**

**42. Paragraphs**

**43. Sprachgefühl**

****

**PART 4: Rules of Thumb—But Not Me!**

**44. Rules of Thumb—But Not Me!**

Thumb 27 Novel "Rules" Thumb of Us Love to Thumb Our Knowses At

**45. Commencement Change of Address**

**46. Index of Grammatis Personae**

__

**_Image Matters_**

**_Acknowledgments_**

**_Author_**

**_Copyright_**
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**Preface**

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_In this work, when it shall be found that much is omitted, let it not be forgotten that much likewise is performed._

—Samuel Johnson, Preface to _A Dictionary of the English Language_

__

The reader who happens upon this uncommon grammar will not look far into it before thinking, "Oh, this is a _children's_ book." And it is. It was conceived and written, with tender affection, for the child who, no matter how grown up in outward appearance, is ever within, full of wide-eyed wonder, brimming with boundless curiosity and questions about life, eager to learn; whose winsome ear is naturally, pleasurably attuned to the music and charm of rhyming verse; whose funny bones, a matching pair, never fail to take double delight in word play; whose prim little mouth, as small as it is, is an ever-bubbling fount of ready laughter; and whose lively imagination revels in captivating stories abounding with fascinating characters, some of them animals, especially if they have underlying morals. The stories, that is, since it is oftentimes required, for the story's sake, if not society's, that its characters haven't any. It is the happiest time of life. And so, in the end, we are not surprised that it is to this happy child in us that we wistfully return in our golden years, those of us who are lucky enough to live to such a ripe young age.

Another thing the reader will as soon deduce is that this is a very _novel_ grammar—about a two-faced woman. One uniform demographic is quick to argue that there is nothing at all novel about this. Whether or not this is true is beyond the scope of this work, and will have to be decided by the courts, _if_ further courts are to be paid, after the warm things said on both sides, though there will be no end of judging on the heels of the prejudging. What is clear from the title onward is that this is a unique, some would say revolutionary, hybrid: a work of nonfiction—a comprehensive English grammar covering grammar, punctuation, typography, spelling, and style—couched in the nail-biting guise of a work of fiction—a novel. What is not clear is why on earth anyone would choose to marry the two.

The reader should know that I did not _choose_ to write this book. The truth is, all choice was denied me. Like it or not, I _had_ to write it. I'll explain in good time, but first I want to acknowledge my profound indebtedness to the great man of English letters, grammar teacher, literary colossus, epic lexicographer Dr. Samuel Johnson who in 1739 so perceptively wrote

[B]ut a small part of mankind will sacrifice their pleasure to their improvement, and those authors who would find many readers must endeavor to **please** while they instruct. [emphasis mine]

A self-described "harmless drudge," he toiled away. . . . Years passed. At last, in 1755, his pleasing wisdom came to light in his magnum opus _A Dictionary of the English Language_ in two volumes. The weight of a large turkey (22 lb), it rapidly proved otherwise, finding legions of delighted readers, as pleased as instructed to find wryly winking out at them the _likes_ of

**Oats**. _n.s._ A grain, which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland supports the people.

**Worm**. _v._ To deprive a dog of something, nobody knows what, under his tongue, which is said to prevent him, nobody knows why, from going mad.

Many more years passed, during which the seed of the great doctor's perspicuity was swept up by the prevailing easterly and borne across the storm-tossed ocean to the New World, eventually coming to rest in something like fertile soil—the gray matter of an Olde School grammar teacher, herself a personage of no little antiquity, wherein it germinated, took root, blossomed, and bore strange fruit.

Now at this point it would be the easiest, most pleasurable thing in the world for me to relate how, for countless years, this superannuated schoolmarm had been trying to inculcate grammar into the empty vessels under her tutelage in the same dreary Olde School way, always with the same predictable sleep-inducing results; how, in the midst of her hand-wringing, she tastes of the fruit, and finds it so pleasing __ to her tongue, and so __ instructional, that in a flash she sees the _light_ : all she need do is set it down in a lightsome grammar so mesmerizingly, pleasingly novel as to be wholly unlike any conventional narcotizing grammar. And I could go right on "spoiling" you by telling you in advance of the surprisingly marvelous ways she goes about it—in the most two-faced tragicomic manner. One would find this highly instructive, and, in a grammar, that is much to be desired. But I must remind the reader that this is a _novel_ grammar, and it hardly does in a novel to reveal key elements of the plot before their climactic time. So I must stick to my original resolve to keep you on tenterhooks, biting your nails even as you are turning the pages. Or _must_ I? Lord, I must be getting unchildlike not to have thought of it before: this is only the _preface_ , the traditionally boring prelude to a book, which no one reads these days, if they ever did—much less that of a grammar. The author sweats lead over it for an eternity, polishing it more brightly than the most precious jewel, in full knowledge that he will one far-off day be putting it in the book _right up front_ for one reason: to go unread. And the proof of the putting is in the ebook, which, on opening, as you have undoubtedly often observed, after briefly flashing you the cover, cuts right to the action, callously skipping over all front matter, including the preface, no matter how crucially enlightening. Yes, Reader, _you_ are reading this one; but you are the lone book-loving exception to the rule, a true bibliophile of refined sensibilities who will take this for the spoiler alert that it is, and indemnify me against any and all such charges. Therefore, having made this disclaimer, I see no harm in revealing to you, the lone person in the world who will ever see them, and thank me for the candor, these nail-biting plot twists and intrigues:

As the novel opens, Ms. Spinster, a lingering relic of the Olde School in gingham dress and high lace boots, luckless in love, always an old maid and never a bride, is the frustrated embodiment of a schoolmarm: When had she become Ms. Spinster? She can dimly recall having had a maiden name once, a perfectly young and lovely, oh-so-marriageable name ("Miss . . . Miss . . ."). But that is only part of her frustration, albeit a very large part. Standing before the newest wave of the great unschooled, her frustration is complete: "If only __ there were a way to instill the rules of grammar in one ear—then keep them from rushing headlong out the other for being so insufferably lifeless and dreary that sufferers lie down in the aisle and fall fast asleep."

One fateful day, failing to lift a high lace boot high enough to get over one's higher-than-normal level of boredom, it trips her up—but good. Falling face first into an open _Child Star Weekly_ she comes face to famous with an epiphany: " _Of course!_ Children being as celebrity mad as anyone, what better way to pound common tense into emptyheads than by engaging the famous, and all the more mesmerizingly infamous, to _pleasingly_ impress each rule into little starstruck memory piggy banks, never to be forgotten? But then why stop at grammar? I'll go on to engage . . ."

There, I don't think I've revealed too much of the steamy plot, even if I do add that she ardently engages Errol Flynn, Tarzan, the Sheik of Araby, and Romeo, to name but four, who, together, amorously engage Ms. Spinster in four-play, each expressing their rule as a play on words in the verse's _pun_ ch line. A heartbeat later she steams on, in no less amatory prose, to the climactic novel end: whether one of the 500-plus celebrities she so lovingly engages shall _at long last_ lead her to the altar, and make an honest name of Ms. Spinster, a heart-palpitatingly famous one; the same novel end, I might add, that, with great forbearance, I stop well short of revealing, and mention only that it might likewise go unappreciated.

Yet, Reader, wonderful to relate! I am bound by no such revelatory stricture regarding the non-novel portion of this grammar. I am totally at liberty to reveal as _many_ things as I choose, which is most happy since it perfectly comports with Ms. Spinster. Though her gingham dress is beyond threadbare, her high lace boots so woefully down at the heel that the nails are pushing through, she accepts the poverty and the crucifixion, if only she might afford the newest wave of the great unschooled

  * 101 Novel Rules of Grammar
  * 100 Novel Rules of Punctuation, Typography, and Spelling
  * 102 Novel Rules of Style
  * 27 Novel "Rules" Thumb of Us Love to Thumb Our Knowses At

Doing the 'rithmetic ("1+0+2+7=10, put down the zero, carry the 1 . . ."), gape-mouthed students, most of them, eventually arrive at the jaw-dropping sum— _330_ Novel Rules. Needless to say, with so many to cover, each is necessarily limited to the usual boring sentence of explanation accompanied by one or two measly examples, right? _Wrong_. Each of the 330 rules is dramatically presented as a star-studded one-act morality play. And the tale each tells is truly fabulous, being in the manner of a morally instructive fable, "a short narrative making an edifying or cautionary point, often employing as characters _animals_ that speak and act like humans."

Well, so far, I think I've exercised commendable fidelity, not to mention restraint, in sticking strictly to the facts respecting the nonfictional portion of the grammar, given that it is, as I said, more than a little novel. And considering that I am at complete liberty in this section to reveal, in the interest of full disclosure, as many facts as I choose; and inasmuch as the subject is so near and dear to my heart, I would do so now, at length and with the greatest of zeal, I truly would, for nothing would give me greater pleasure.

Oh but, Reader, I have long presumed upon your patience, and fear I may have long since exhausted it. You'll recall, dimly, that some time back I started to tell you that I didn't _choose_ to write this book, that, in fact, I could _not_ choose. That choice was made for me. So, without further digressions, I will now explain:

In ancient Rome it was the business of an _augur_ , __ a species of occult priest, to divine the future by observing the movements of birds and listening to their songs, and interpreting these as being auspicious (good) or inauspicious (bad) omens. At the same coeval time, enlightened Etruscans openly scorned such divine ignorance, placing their abiding faith in a _haruspex_ , a high priest who prognosticated the future by reading the viscera, more graphically called the entrails, of animals.

It is to be much lamented that the occult sciences of augury and haruspicy long ago fell out of favor and their priesthoods into decay. At any time, from my novel nativity on, an augur, with but a cursory observation of my movements ("A strange bird indeed") would have clearly discerned my irrepressible tendency to break out in song, and take wing in soaring, ever higher lyric flights, and, himself in a transport, would have divined that it was all very auspicious: that I had not only the poetic predisposition but more than enough literary pretension to pull off a novel high-flown stunt like this.

At the same prognosticating time, a haruspex would have looked deep into my entrails (my life an open book). And what he would have divined on peering so intimately into my _verscera_ (I do not choose to call it _tripe_ ) is this: I had the poetic predisposition; pretension to spare; presumption enough to go around; the cheerful optimism to pull it off; and (observing the engorged vein of sanguinity coursing through all) that I had the bloody _guts_ to one day write this novel grammar.

Yes, the extinctions long since of the augur and the haruspex are to be sorely lamented. Together, from my auspicious nativity onward, they could have made believers of the doubters and naysayers and the can't-prognosticate-past-their-noses to see that, owing to my high-flown tendency to break out in song; and because my verscera exist in no other bird or mammal in just such novel proportions, that it was for me to write **Ms. Spinster's Novel Grammar**. Yet, Reader, I confess there were moments when I myself doubted whether I could pull off this novel stunt; but they were all erased in an instant when I peered up wondrously into the cold, clear night heavens to see that not even Moses, with his two stone tablets and a heavier decree from God pressing upon him, could write _330_ stone commandments. It _had_ to be me. It was written in the stars.

Oh, but _hurry_ , now, children! Take your seats—quickly! the star-studded players all have on their makeup, yet are even so itching to lay it on thick. Listen! the stirring overture is sounding. Look! the curtain is rising—the _play_ , in four novel acts, is about to commence. Shhh! Hear, now, the prologue.
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Prologue

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**Two-faced Pitch**

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Yes, she laughs on the side of her face

That is white, making light of her case,

But on the **dark** side

That tear she has cried,

So sadly, is most commonplace.

No man's taking her for his wife

Sorely cuts through her heart like a knife.

Knowing she'll never hear

"Gramma" lisped in her ear,

She's made grammar the love of her life.

With the hand that no courting man took,

She's put all of her love—in a book;

Oh so telling a gauge

— _Two_ faces each page—

That a child can see with a look

That Ms. Spinster nobody would hitch

Is truly a two-faced pitch,

Telling it like it is,

Tragicomic old Ms.,

And her grammar, her _grammar_ — _that/which_.
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1. Ms. Spinster Comes of Age

** **

****

___How many now?_ she frets herself to remember. How many first-day-of-school mornings commencing a like number of years has she stood in the same old boot-worn depression, erect, stern, the schoolmarm in her chafing, as now, to bring the new class to order? She would have the child in her give her the answer, the _correct_ answer. And she wants, oh how she wants, with a stomp of her high lace boot and the crack of her pointer on the front-and-center school desk, to snap heads and silence piercing treble voices and bring this latest wave of the great unschooled into hard line, setting the proper tone for the year ahead. She would _command_ it—this moment. She would, but for all practical purposes her gray matter, her command center, is wholly engaged, as, heartbreakingly, she is not, with a far more troubling concern: when, precisely, had she become Ms. Spinster? If she thinks about it long enough and, as ever, hard enough, she can recall, ever so dimly, that she had had a _maiden_ name once, a perfectly young and lovely, oh-so-promising name: Miss . . . Miss . . . _oh_ , what was that dear dear name again now? . . .

This morning, she sees, is to be no different from every other single commencement-of-the-school-year morning: failing to recall her ever more distant maiden-name past tosses her anew, with the most spinsterish pang yet, into the present, tense. And once more the schoolmarm in her takes no least solace in correcting herself that it is, in heart-wrenching reality, the present _continuous_.

As she stands in her long-habituated gingham-dressed depression, the manhole-sized downheartedness worn ever deeper into the floor just two feet and two high lace boots in front of the desk occupied by the head of the class, it seems to her that she stands just that much lower in everyone's eyes, not least her own. "Yes, _man_ hole-sized," she reflects with a pang closely followed by a sigh. Though failing, her eyes never fail to see, nor she to feel, to the ton, the crushing weight of the irony. It is not the crush she has dreamed of for so long, for so very long, that her "knight in shining amour" would have on her.

On good days, when her self-esteem shows tentative signs of rising up as high as _Low_ , her eyes, ever on the lookout for love, seem barely level with the tops of the desks. How it hurts her neck, and the little that passes for pride, to have to look _up_ into yet another year of pint-size faces, especially those with maiden names. Just seeing that they have their blush-cheeked marriage prospects ahead of them carries her suffering beyond the threshold (oh don't!) of mere pain to the unbearable agony of envy. On less than good days she is reduced to putting Dr. School's Esteem Lifts into what she can no longer deny are, in reality, her high _lase_ (lacking all self-esteem) boots just to get up to that downtrodden level. But on bad days, when spinsterhood hangs over her like a pall, leaving her not a vestige of face to show the world (a classroom), she is obliged, unless she wants to boot it up the torturous flight of stares, to take the "lift" up to Room 101. But for all its sham elevating claims, the aging Spinster Lift ("Going down! Single woman's dejections, unmarried lady's under-despairs, old maid's despondencies"), barely manages to get her sunken spirits up to floor level, her tired eyes to where she can just look up into those cherubic faces looking down into hers with a mixture of wide-eyed wonderment and . . . pity? At such times, the full crush of spinsterhood upon her, she sighs her heaviest sigh and takes what comfort she can in knowing why the "head" of the class is so called.

In a deeper depression than ever, she recollects that " _morning_ is just a single 'you' away from _mourning_." On each, for as far back as she can't remember, her long-lost maiden name has been right on the tip of her recollection; but as she eagerly ran after it, as the child in her, net in hand, was used to chase after a beautiful butterfly, it always eluded her, only to alight on yet another tip, just teasingly out of reach. Though she tried and she tried to capture it, ever unable she sighed, and she cried (oh _don't_ —they'll see!). And each time she came to realize, sadly, that collecting butterflies, elusive as they are, is ever so much easier than recollecting maiden names.

When the worst of her grief has passed, Ms. Spinster does as she has done so many first-day mornings: she seeks to assuage her sorrow by fondly recollecting, to the best of her virtual memory, that her once young and lovely, oh-so-promising maiden name had been, like the butterfly, a _monarch_ , and she, if not a regal queen, certainly a beautiful princess, waited on ever so patiently by ladies-in-waiting . . . waiting, like her, her royal wedding.

But memory does not long suffer her revisionism. It callously reminds her how, as day after day yielded to its night more schooled in loneliness, and the single, uncaptured years went by, no Prince Charming ever rode in on a white charger to net the beautiful elusive butterfly that was her maiden name; never went down on bended knee that he might, by the courtly process of saying " _i_ , take you out!" change it to his _maden_ name. ("A prince, he'll have made a name for himself; and a maiden by _any_ other maden name would smell as sweet—success.") A name, a handle some call it; their cruel, twisted idea of a joke: apart from _her_ not being able to catch hold of it, no handsome prince had ever sought to capture it; never chased after, that he might seize, so little as its dearest part, her _hand_ , and sweep it up and carry it across the threshold into marriage. Not one, for all that it was so young and nubile and _longing_ for change, had endeavored in any manner, courtly or otherwise, to catch hold of it, as if it were Miss Not-quite-the-girl-next-door-more-like-a-number-of-plain-Jane-doors-down- _no_ -sorry-not-exactly-the-longing-type-I-was-looking-for. Which, sad, ever longing as it was, would have been ever so much more promising than "Ms. Spinster." But no one had called her Miss . . . for as long now as she could not remember. Somewhere along the Road That's Certain to End in Marriage, a road that always ended up being the Single Lane Going Nowhere, her dear departed "Miss" had lost the very core of her being: "is" ("Is she ever beautiful! Is she ever the girl I would love to marry!"). All that was left now of her sadly diminished sign of maidenhood was a hopelessly disemvoweled "Ms." And with each passing day the prospect of remembering the long-missing core of her state of being single seemed ever more elusive.

This morning is no different. All she can remember is somehow missing the on-ramp to the I-Do Expressway and winding up on the I-Don't-Know- _What_ 's-to-Become-of-Me Thoroughlyunfair. What _had_ her oh-so-promising maiden name been for crying out loud? (Oh, don't! Keep it inside. They'll guess.) So unfailingly had it eluded her each time that, over the years, she had come more and more to believe that she had never had another name but Ms. Spinster; that the notion of once having had a maiden name preceded by "Miss" was all a fantastic, beautiful dream. With each failed attempt she had come to believe that ever more disconsolately, until one more tearful than usual morning she was moved to agonize: "Oh, God, at what precise moment did the bluntly cold, cruel hammer that is _a woman who has remained single beyond the conventional age for marrying_ come down _hard_ upon this long-gray head."

In her deepest depression ever, she turns to face the blackboard to hide her tears, seeing through them, in her mind's eye, a crude, two-faced chalk drawing, as children will make, beneath it a single one-word caption:

**Janis**

Even as she is reeling from the visual blow, her anguished mind is cruelly struck anew to "hear" the children rise up behind her in taunting chorus, their treble voices punctuating her double pain with double quotation marks:

"Ms. Spinster can't recall her maiden name,

The poor old maid, and it's a crying shame.

Her given name is 'Janis,' so it's said,

For _two_ God-given faces to her head.

Her white looks forth to marriage—comedy!

Her black looks back on weddings, tragically,

Not one of which was hers; the too-sad case is

_No man_ called her Janis to her faces;

Only plain Ms. Spinster, plain as she,

An old maid with no maiden name, can be.

"She's single, so each face, one white, one dark,

Is each a single, lone quotation mark,

The lonelier for, being back to back,

Her white face, full of hope, can't see the black,

Its downturned mouth, its sadly tear-stained cheek

To see her marriage prospects look so bleak.

Could each face only turn, the other see.

Her black's all for it ( _'Hope!'_ )—God, let it be.

Her white face wouldn't turn, in any case.

The prospect isn't one that she can face."

So excruciating is the contemplation of these stunning, "unwanted" blows, that Ms. Spinster seeks to comfort herself with the small consolation that, while she is undeniably, mortifyingly dwelling in spinsterhood, at least she has not fallen so low socially as to be living in a spinster _'hood_. Yet each night she returns home, darkly single, to the depressed, rundown, crying-ridden "inner" city with its dead-end, no-way-out mean streaks, cold birthplace of the blues, _Brother, can you spare me some time— any spare change of single life at all?_ that is vintage Spinsterhood (population 1), this desperate rationale proves a comfort that grows colder, ever colder, with each passing night.

But then that's a lie too; not one night passes. When she comes to grief in trying to recall the day Ms. Spinster was born (oh, if only it _might_ be recalled), each night, in heartless turn, fails her: "Sorry, you've flunked the day-you-were-born test _again_ —miserably." If she could only remember she could make it a point each year not to celebrate the "blest" event, not that she ever had, but rather dress all in black and observe a singularly doleful mourning in respect of the ineffably sad passing (oh don't say passing _by_!) of Miss . . .

Mercifully, as it often does with things too painful to remember, memory spares her that. Yet it doesn't totally fail her: she recalls how, if it was to be her cruel fate never to have the love of "Gramma," she had come, over the years, to settle for the closest thing to it: the love of grammar. She remembers taking the only vows proffered her, accepting grammar, the love of her life, with all her heart, the unlettered, unruly children _her_ precious children, vowing in return, with the lifetime's saved-up love she had to give, to forever impress on their impressionable little minds every prescriptive rule they'd ever need to mend the English tongue in which they prattled away in the most _un_ grammatical, if darling, fashion; mend it so well that they might grow up to utter their "I do"s, free of fear of barbarously saying "Me do" or "I does" (uncontestable grounds for annulment). She recalls now, as well, with utter clarity, how she had likewise vowed to honor that love "till death do us part"; and how, then and there, she had set about applying herself towards that end with every single fiber of her being Ms. Spinster that it might agree, in gender, number, and person, with every single piece of her broken heart.

2. Commencement Address

** **

****

As it has every single year for as long as she can't remember, when her gray matter has pondered spinsterhood from every excruciating angle, combined it with the spin-age angst of failing to pinpoint the precise moment it began, and once again computed that it equals total frustration, it disgustedly gives itself over to Ms. Spinster for more pedestrian tasks, like bringing the class to order. Instantly her left marmisphere rushes simultaneous nerve impulses to key neurons in her right hand and foot. Reaching their assigned presynaptic neurons, finding themselves confronted with the daunting chasms of the synaptic gaps, they don't hesitate for lack of nerve, but, so charged, resolutely, impulsively leap their quantum leaps across to their designated postsynaptic neurons to make the crucial neuromuscular connections. Instantly a high lace boot begins to rise, quickly ascends to preprogramed coordinates one foot above floor level, stops, reverses itself, and, rapidly accelerating, descends into the ink-black depression, in time striking bottom with a window-rattling, desk-shifting stomp, even as her pointer comes down like late Mississippi lightning, striking the front-and-center desktop with a sizzling _cr-r-r-ACK!_ and the pungent odor of ozone.

Satisfied that the nervously anticipated Commencement tradition has once again gotten the year off to a resounding, ceremonious start, only then does the right marmisphere shoot out a third set of impulses to a third bundle of neurons in the larynx. In less than a trice out leaps

'There's glory for you!'  
'I don't know what you mean by "glory",' Alice said.  
Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. 'Of course you don't—till I tell you. I meant "there's a nice knock-down argument for you!" '  
'But "glory" doesn't mean "a nice knock-down argument",' Alice objected.  
'When _I_ use a word,' Humpty Dumpty said in rather a scornful tone, 'it means just what I choose it to mean -- neither more nor less.'

There, that got their attention, Ms. Spinster thinks with a self-satisfied air. With a sigh she leaves off quoting Alice and Humpty Dumpty in their quaint British double-inside-single quotation marks (such nonsense!)—but not before hastening to add, not a little Humpty Dumptily, "It's _very_ provoking!" And she is sorely tempted to teach them a bloody good lesson—how a punctilious Yankee _correctly_ quotes (single inside double); but, summoning every constraint within her, she stifles the impulse. Then, abstemiously denying _herself_ the immoderate luxury of quotation marks, lovely _double_ ones, the better that she might bare, if not bear, her singular anguishes and heartbreaks, Ms. Spinster, having set her austere life's course, goes self-denyingly on in her own unmarked if remarkable words:

Alices and Alexes of Blunderland, Class of _Oh, Here We Go Again_ :

I stand before you today only less honored to deliver your commencement address than obligated. _Someone_ had to buck tradition and deliver your address to you at the _start_ of your schooling in order to forestall the confusion you would otherwise be thrown into at its end. Yes, all too often has the world witnessed the perplexity, the utter despair that washes over the denizens of the C—let us hope not C- _minus_ —when, after some dozen seat-warming years, whole "graduating" schools of these all-too-average flounderers have assembled, in rented mortarboards and gowns, only to hear that in their final, glorious end is their commencement. ("In my end is my _beginning_?") Talk about an eggucational wasteland! Thank you—I shall:

The Humpty Dumpty Schools of Eggheaded Learning would teach you—well, just listen to an excerpt from their syllabus:

Students will learn that a word does not mean what _it_ says it means, but what the tenured egghead says it means. Take _commencement_ : it says it means "beginning"; but since it comes at the "completion" of your eggucation, there is not an egghead, white or brown, who doesn't construe _commencement_ to mean "the end"; but, more important, if that's all you've learned, that you had better stay after class—for another dozen or so years.

Yes, your horrified faces tell the story: that is not the syllabus _you_ want to take to school. But then Humpty Dumpty is much too modest. His vehicle is _far_ more silly than he takes credit for. Imagine taking such a silly bus to school, only to discover that it's sillier yet to take it home with you, to hear your mother cry, "What ever did you bring that silly thing home for? Take it outside—at once!" Well, at Ms. Spinster's Novel School of Grammar, bright-eyed learnniks take the all-inclusive Omnibus to school to learn _all_ there is to know about grammar—and all starting at the moment of commencement. Nothing silly about that, is there? No. What's more, you begin learning _right_ from the start. From the very first _cr-r-r-ACK!_ you learn that it means precisely what _it_ says it means—business—rather than what the Humpty Dumptys say it means: something you fall through on the way to getting eggucated. Yes, at Ms. Spinster's, 101 _Ms. Spinster's Way_ , the next thing you learn is that whatever bespeaks "commencement" should come at the _beginning_ of something, rather than at its end. I know, I know, it's revolutionary, but I didn't get where I am today—and don't you remind me—by not being revolutionary. Anything less would be symptomatic of Dumptyness in general, that is, your general eggucation. So I'm devoting this entire Commencement to addressing the matter of your schooling. And those of you who have ever been enrolled in a Humpty Dumpty School, _One, Oh_ _One Tedious Way_ , know there is _much_ the matter with it—and its address.

First, though, I would like to congratulate you for choosing to undertake the mandatory study of grammar. You are to be heartily commended for your foresight, commitment, and compulsory enrolment—and I do—not least for having the pint-size perspicacity to choose Ms. Spinster's. Had you remained in a Humpty Dumpty School, you'd have been in for one liberally progressive, meaning educationally backwards time of it. Nothing you would do, or more to the point _not_ do, would ever be wrong. You could not be blamed or in any manner held accountable for any egg you laid, since even the most junior of child psychologists could effectively excuse your failure to learn, even before having had his or her nap, on the grounds that it was the all-too-predictable consequence of your wretched upbringing: your having been brought up in a Humpty Dumpty School, hence you could not possibly have turned out otherwise. You could not be failed, since the argument could be successfully raised that, in preparing you for a School of Higher Laying, it had already failed you, and one more such failure would unjustly be putting you in double jeopardy. And in the end would be your commencement.

Ah, but again this year I see that some few of you, after a number of wasted years in a Humpty Dumpty School, have been enrolled here at Ms. Spinster's by your exasperated parents—out of sheer desperation. No need to raise your hands; by now everyone has recognized you by your pronounced facial stubble and rather, uh . . . full figures. So it is that we come to comprehend the true meaning of their motto "No _child_ left behind." And the reason is painfully obvious: you had the standard Humpty Dumpty Grammar dumped on you. And what a humorless, colorless, _forgettable_ bit of pedantry it is. As proof, how many of you can remember the authors' names? Yes, always that is the test of a Humpty Dumpty Grammar. No less than three pedeggogues must lend their leaden prescriptions to give it the oppressive weight one expects to feel under its hortatory crush. Humpty Dumpty School administrators learned long ago that it takes the eggregate eggheadedness of three pedeggogues to instill the requisite amount of tedium into their grammar; moreover, they must be three of the most "name"less, faceless stuffed shirts on the planet. So the HDS Board Silly casts about for three no-names who are full of themselves, the only stipulation being that they must be Stuffy, Boring, and Forgettable. But let us leave this trio of no-names to go on dooming lost souls, for my belief compels me to address you now on the matter of your miraculous _salvation_!

Yes, the way, the truth, and the _light_ , wholly—what? _No_ , I'm not talking of Jesus. Yet a true godsend is **Ms. Spinster's Novel Grammar** , wholly unforgettable; for, instead of three stuffy, boring, sleep-inducing no-names, **Ms. Spinster's** __ best-telling author engages over _five hundred_ of the famous, or all the more mesmerizingly infamous, to bring _life_ to grammar, and grammar to _life_ , each chosen for their unique star qualities to impress upon young, impressionable minds one of its inviolable rules. How? Why, in, easy-to-remember _verse_ , __ the way the ancients used to indelibly etch things into their memories. The author herself had sad reason to know how one's memory can let one down flat at the moment one's self-esteem most needs uplifting. Happily, in the midst of one deep depression, she had the epiphany of turning each hard-and-fast-forgotten rule into its own easy-to-remember mnemonic, which, for those of you who learned it the hard way, in a Humpty Dumpty Grammar, and have long since forgotten, is a memory device. As proof of its efficacy, she'll never forget how this most fortunate bit of serendipity befell her, literally:

As so often happened pre– **Ms. Spinster's** , unlearnniks, overwhelmed by the tedium of trying to learn some humorless rule from a Humpty Dumpty Grammar, lay down in the crowded aisles, exhausted, and fell fast asleep. The author-to-be, always a quick learner herself, had learned to step over them as a matter of course, whether it was grammar or still more grammar. But one fateful day she failed to lift a high lace boot high enough to get over one unlearnnik's higher-than-normal level of boredom, and it tripped her up—but _good_ : she fell face first into an open _Child Star Weekly_. And the rest is her story, so it's only fitting that I let her tell it herself, in her own first-person-singular words:

Well, coming face to face with the lifestyles of the brats and famous, I saw how we're a celebrity-mad society; how we eat up every word about them—and remember the most intimate details about them for . . . well, they lead such fabulously glamorous lives that we never forget them, do we? And it came to me: _What better way to pound common tense into the heads of unlearnniks than by calling upon the famous and the all the more mesmerizingly infamous?_ —all of whom, it said in the most sensational diction I'd ever laid eyes on, literally, are at any moment, undergoing one or more re _vers_ als of fortune. And it struck me as no lightning ever could: _Who better than glamorous celebrities to put each all-too-forgettable rule of grammar into sensational, unforgettable verse?_

So, having gotten the latest dish, I picked myself up, _Scandal!_ written all over __ my face, and set about engaging (God, if only!) the rich and famous—and not just those who were present and unaccounted for. No, to do it up right, I thought, no cheapskate stuff, I needed to go all the way back to the Garden of Eden. And what an all-star _cast_!

Asking at the gate for Adam and Eve, I got the Word from One "world"-famous celebrity that they'd been cast out for _Original Sin_. Well, after a great deal of casting about myself, I found the First Couple east of Eden wearing nothing but fig leaves and their shame, and was set to buttonhole them when it struck me, at first blush, that neither had a buttonhole so's you'd notice. Both had outies. Still, I assured them that, having broken the First Rule, they could get back into God's good graces by _decently_ illustrating another.

Leaving them to it, I celebed my way forward in time. And aren't you all the lucky ones! Why, way back in my grammar-school days, we children had to trudge at least five miles, for me it was ten, through snow up to our chests to get to the one-room Humpty Dumpty School. And it was snow picnic when we got there. Neither warmth of laughter nor heat of passion for learning attended on us. Every morning it was the same old same cold: Miss Coldwell would throw another cold onto the fire and call the roll: "Laughter? . . . Passion? . . ." And though each of us cried out inside most piteously, _"Hear, HEAR!"_ never, not once, did we receive what would have been the most heartwarming music to our perpetually frozen ears: _"Here." "Here."_ And this went on year after frigid year.

Yes, back in our day we kids had to get our grammar the hard way, with no heartwarming celebrity, let alone one really hot, to kindle learning with the spontaneous combustion of humor. We'd have been cheered most mercifully if one who was but mildly inflammatory could have sparked so much as a tepid ardor, if only it might have thawed us to a degree of enthusiasm—enough that we could have been bored to tears rather than our perennial icicles. But no such a one ever attended on us to inflame us with love of learning. So with each passing year our hearts were frozen more solidly yet to this mirthless methodology, though, as a block, we children didn't think it possible. And always—winter, spring, summer, fall—there was the chest-deep snow to trudge through.

And aren't you the most blest of learnniks to have so narrowly missed the Ice Age, owing to the heart-melting advent of **Ms. Spinster's Novel Grammar** , unquestionably the most novel grammar ever, featuring, at heart, the most novel rules ever, each truly fabu—what? _Our old teacher, who was a lot younger, told us something can't be more novel?_ . . . Yes . . . well . . . (keep it inside!) . . . that's because Mrs. _Broody-Hen_ was giving y—what? _No_ , I am not crying. And didn't I just say "unquestionably"? __ Pass me those tissues. It's because she was giving you an _egg_ ucation, in a Humpty Dumpty School, isn't it? No doubt she also clucked and laid the further egg _things can't be more round, more square, more perpendicular, more perfect_ . . . and such tommyrotten eggs. So you'll be More perfectly delighted, when, in bloody good time, we get to most Utopian educator Sir Thomas More, and he teaches you—just as he taught King Henry VIII a bloody good lesson—by ending up, his head lopped off, More dead.

Yes, the __ Novel Rules __ are all truly _fabulous_ : each is in the delightful manner of a fable, "a short narrative making an edifying or cautionary point and often employing as characters _animals_ that speak and act like humans." What, a mere _101_ Novel Rules of Grammar? Hardly. The selfless author impoverished herself to further your education with an additional 100 Novel Rules of Punctuation, Typography, and Spelling, a further 102 Novel Rules of Style—plus 27 "Rules" of Thumb That Thumb of Us Love to Thumb Our Knowses At. In all, 330 **Novel Rules** , all brought to light and to life by _500-plus_ celebrities who, working independently of one another, in different ages, in all four corners of the world, coming from different walks of life, social classes, intellects, temperaments, generational as well as maturational perspectives, two main genders, and, today, a growing number of hybrids, _all_ settled upon couching their verse in precisely the same form: twenty lines, in two ten-line stanzas, the meter iambic pentameter (five metrical feet to the line, each foot composed of an iam, an unaccented syllable followed by an accented one). Isn't that just the most fantastic, implausible coincidence? _No_ , of course it's not. Consistency being a virtue, I insisted on it. And let me tell you there was no small amount of celebrity anger, the most volatile kind, over this. Some were as mad as wet hens, not least Chicken Little and Henny Penny. Even so, I insisted on an equally inflexible consistency in formatting.

Well, my word! Such an insurrection arose all around me as to amount in the aggregate to an insurgency. Loud cries of "She would stifle all personal expression!" "She's a tyrant of the versed kind!" were raised to the skies. Then a singularly audacious spokescelebrity indignantly piped up and quoted me chapter and verse— _no_ , not the Holy Bible, Emerson: "A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do."

Now I ask you, what could _I_ do? In the face of such heated opposition I had no choice, other than the proffered Hobson's, but to quit the battlefield and sue for peace, even though peace of mind was off the table. I swear, I don't know what the world is coming to when a schoolmarm has no more authority than a Third World dictator. I needn't tell you what a devastating blow it dealt my pride, but I _shall_ , if only to remind you how _much_ I have sacrificed—and suffered—in selflessly advancing "the most novel, revolutionary method of teaching grammar ever." And all solely that you might _learn_.

As you might have thought, if you ever thought of anyone but your self-centered selves, I was in a deeper depression than ever. But subjecting this matter of individual expression to a headache's worth of reflection, I concluded that maybe, all things considered, it was best that you be exposed to _many_ different styles, and let _your_ little noodles decide which best suits the occasion and yourselves; that perhaps there was method in their madness, after all, though I should rather characterize it as unbridled fury. And since I was in such a reflective mood, I further hypothesized that, if I had it to do all over again, I might have eased up on the verse, too, and allowed one to write a villanelle, another a pantoum, yet another a sestina, and still another a virelai. I might have, but it doesn't seem as if.

No, it doesn't, not at all—but it does seem as if I could go on waxing passionate about my novel grammar __ and the virtues of its twin ten-line stanzas in iambic pentameter, each consisting of five perfectly rhyming couplets—well, gracious me, why don't I just recite my own humble effort as a modest, if thoroughly enlightening, model:

**Rule NUM-ber ONE: da RHY-thm GOES like THIS:**

Da- **dum** , **** da- **dum** , da- **dum** , da- **dum** , da- **dum**.

You **see**? And **so** on **goes** each **line** to **come**.

But **watch** out **now**! for **once** in **each** odd **while**

A **lib** -er- **ty** is **tak** -en **with** the **style** :

In **count** -ing ( **yes** , ten **syll** -a- **bles** , **** all's **fine** )

You **find** —whoa! **hold** on, **here's** a **swoll** -en **line** :

_E- **lev-** en_ **syll** -a- **bles** —one **more's** been **tacked** on;

**Mean** -ing **some** line— **one** da **poor** —was **hacked** on.

[–] **Here** it **is**! It's **got** a **one** -da **lack** ,

The **line** three **up** —a **six** -y **six** -da **pack**!

One **more** , one **less** , no **mat** -ter; **if** da **hum** thing

**You** do, **tap** your **foot** un- **to** this **dum** thing,

**You** will **al** -ways **find** , when **count** -ing's **done** ,

This **syll** -a- **ble's** an **un** -ac- **cent** -ed **one** ,

Not **stressed** (as **some** are); **thus** you **will** di- **vine**

The **beat** is **this** : **** five **ac** -cents **to** da **line**.

So **chill** ; don't **sweat** da **small** stuff, **spare** da **sweat**.

Re- **mem** -ber— **and** don't **ev** -er **once** for- **get** —

This **rule** : There **are** ex- **cep** -tions **to** all **rules**.

For- **get** , and **you** will **be** da- **dum** -est **fools**.

There now! look at all the mnemonic fun you had on the way to having the rule _There are exceptions to all rules_ tunefully etched into your little memory piggy banks—never to be forgotten. Oh, and, darlings (fool disclosure), the poor **dum** author got so into the swing of it all, tapping her high lace boot to every single stress to beat the wedding band, her pointer a rhythmically swishing conductor's baton, that she was moved to reach all the deeper into her bottomless magnanimity and commission the entire Grammatis Personae to each conclude their verse by stating their rule as a _play_ upon words, in **** the verse's ****_pun_ ch line. Then take their exiting bows? Not on your lucky lives! __ At further cost, I charged each—though they charged _me_ —to go on to _illustrate_ the rule with the most stellar examples in starring in their oh-so-glamorous lives, all in the most novel prose ever to enliven and _inform_ a grammar! Well, now, surely to goodness the poor **dum** author stopped there. Not a bit! __ She dug as deep as she could to give, with no hope of greater reward, _all_ the parts of speech novel speaking parts _—_ in verse. Now I ask you, would Stuffy, Boring, and Forgettable have thought in a million tears to so enliven a Humpty Dumpty Grammar, forever etching your little memory piggy banks in such a revolutionary manner? No need to answer. Your lifelong-tear-stained cheeks speak for themselves. Yet even so, despite she'd been so wildly extravagant in giving the Grammatis Personae such free and novel rein, money no object, the philanthropic author would have offered up, gratis personae, no end of tedious exercises replete with pain-to-look-up answers in the back of the book, along with reams of mind-numbing revisions and dreaded surprise, make-you-feel-dumb quizzes.

Oh, I know, she's generous to a fault, but even so, she also gives you to understand that she would have inculcated into you the more esoteric aspects of grammar, such as parsing and diagraming of sentences, theoretical linguistics, the medieval effect of Chaucerian idiom upon chivalry, Slavic and Indo-European influences upon the semicolon—and so much more—all dished up and forked over in a smorgasbord of prescriptive jargon and polysyllabic terminology, replete with a heavy patina of scholarly, meaning eggheaded, erudition, _plus_ the redolent odor of academic must over all. Oh, she would have given all that, but in the end she had to concede, _gladly_ , __ that in those respects she simply could not give the ponderously mean Humpty Dumpty Grammar, not available without a thousand and one prescriptions, so crushingly boring in its bookishness, a run for its mundanity.

But, my little spellbound charges, it's only fair to tell you that if, after being so won over by **Ms. Spinster's Novel Grammar** , you are so crammed full of the love of it all that you are driven to go whole hog and become that most chalk-full of pedants, the completely stuffy grammarian, why then there is nothing for it but that you will have to spend your lifetime childhood allowance for a heavy-as-lead Humpty Dumpty Grammar. There there, I know, I'm every bit as sorry as you are.

And yet, despite all I've said about its hopeless tediousness, you can, by _boring_ your way through one, to tears, nevertheless amass enough grammatical gimcrackery to become that epitome of pedants, the swell-headed pedeggogue. Just be certain you are in bed and prepared to go right to sleep (parents love it) before cracking its hidebound cover. _Tip_ : you can reach this land of nod all the sooner with a quick eyelid-drooping perusal of the easy-to-fall-off directions that come with the highly effective prescription soporific:

_Kiddy Kaution_ : The most important thing you need to remember, kids, is your prescribed Humpty Dumpty Grammar does _not_ contain a "Foreword." DO NOT WASTE what few precious seconds you have before sleep overtakes you looking for one. Have your special highlighter ready (included), then flip the tome over (heavy-duty crane not included), pry open its back cover with the complimentary hydraulic jack, and, tears running down your cheeks, immediately begin reading the "Backward" (from right to left), highlighting the text that causes your eyes to glaze over as you go. The instant you stumble across the first "Humptypical unpragmatic phoneme bitope," "lexeme-based syntactical Dumptomorph," or the like, and fall headlong into a deep commatose state, you'll know precisely where to begin the next night so as not to retrace your missteps and make the same fatal mistake all over again. This is crucial, given that the average "life" span of an aspiring pedeggogue is only seventy-two years. You will have conveniently highlighted the mind-numbing portion your memory is genetically incapable of retaining, so you won't keep flogging a dead course. _Tip_ : If you are living on borrowed time, say you have the terminal childhood disease AIHDS (Acute Inflammatory Humpty Dumpty Schooling), you will definitely want to resort to the expedient many children have found effective, which is to place the soporific beneath your pillow. As hidebound as it is, your Humpty Dumpty Grammar, supersaturated with sleep-inducing tedia, will ooze, straight through its bore-us hidebinding, whole convoluted pedantries that may then be absorbed, kicking-and-screaming, by _nary_ -verse osmosis while you sleep. But be forewarned that Humpty Dumpty Grammaceuticals makes _no_ guarantees, express or implied, that you'll retain the least arcanum of it one nounosecond beyond REM (Rapidly Empty Memory).

Well there you have the long and the short, the heavy and the light of it, my soon-to-be-grammatical darlings, you who have the whole funny bone–tickling prospect of all 330 Novel Rules __ before you. But I would be remiss (oh, if _only_ I might be Miss . . . again) if I did not take a few moments here to explain to you about how the Rules are ordered. To be sure, a majority yielded to a logical, unambiguous pigeonholing in one of the subject headings. But what was a poor, befuddled schoolmarm to do with a switch-hitting rule such as _Do not join independent clauses with a comma_? Was I to put it under Clauses in Grammar, or under Commas in Punctuation? And what about _Always begin a sentence with a capital letter_? Can you imagine the agony of decision I suffered myself to endure as to whether to put it under Sentences in Style, or under Capitals in Typography? No, of course you can't. Well the single answer to all such questions—and they were legion—is that I had to do the best I could, and place each in whichever category seemed to me to lobby hardest for its inclusion. But lucky you! In all such instances of dueling categories I took it upon myself—with no hope of further reward—to _repeat_ the rule under the other category(ies), so you'll be certain not to miss it. You're welcome.

But let us leave these categories for now, as we will be learning much more of them in their respective hours of glory. And yet, let us not leave them without recognizing that pigeonholing is an imprecise science that specializes in putting square pigeons in round wholes for the purpose of making something more than pigeon English of the whole. However, those of you who have ever kept pigeons know that you can't stick a pigeon in a hole and expect it to be there when you return. ("Stay where you are until our backs are turned!") Pigeons have their own ideas about the order of things, such as that the sum of the parts they light out for is greater than the hole they're in. In contrast, grammar, and here I speak of the whole, is of the contrary philosophy that its whole is greater than the sum of its parts; its pieces all of a piece. Having said all that, it may surprise you to learn that I have nevertheless yielded to this age-old pigeonholing custom, if only that you might at least have some inkling as to where in the grammatical haystack to begin your treasure hunt, the most likely forkful of straw your _rara avis_ has chosen for its nest, and thus, like Silas the hired man, "find and easily dislodge it in the unloading."

And still I haven't my reward!—as if, despite having made a heap of sense in the teaching of grammar, there were to be any such thing for me. How can your pint-size noodles possibly comprehend what it cost me to hire over 500 __ celebrities in four corners of the world to compose _6,600_ lines of verse to illustrate 330 rules? I wonder if you have even the smallest inkling of appreciation for the logistical nightmare of moving that many people across five continents, over seven seas, and through every age since the beginning of time; arranging the connecting flights, voyages, the camel caravans; making the hotel/hovel accommodations; then getting everyone through airport security and tribal customs, to say nothing of time. God knows it's hard enough trying to get celebrities to come to grips with their age, never mind trying to get the lot of them to come to this age with their grips. What, then, do you suppose were the odds against getting this entire Grammatis Personae, who are all over the map socially, economically, politically, intellectually, and philosophically, yet anything but an _ally_ of one another, not merely together in one spot, but (oh my aching head!) _on the same page—_ at least figuratively? Still, adding up all the overheads, factoring in the number of in-over-their-heads, and multiplying the whole by the total number of swellheads, all of which I did in my poor overworked sorehead, I had it costed out, to the last Henny Penny, to where, when all was said and done, I would just realize the barest of profits. _No_ , not the naked baby Jesus, though I may realize a prophet by him yet, though I won't know for sure until I have shed this earthly vessel, a saint, and been spirited by seraphim, the highest order of angels, to my heavenly reward.

But I suppose now, in looking back, that it was inevitable, with all that to calculate, that I would slip up and forget to factor in _one_ miserable stinking expense: getting one bubbleheaded, Chanel-reeking supermodel who had men __ hanging all over her—but do you think she had the decency to spare _one_?—to come up with—at a _thousand dolors_ per hour—a twenty-line verse in iambic pentameter!

(Sigh) you can imagine how I felt. _No_ you can't either. On top of that, one prima donna celebrity got it into her uppity head that the rules didn't apply to her, so I had to hire another—for a small fortune—to illustrate the rule _properly_. I could see that my profit-making had come bust. The way I have it figured, if I sell one copy to every one of the billion and a half English speakers in the world; and get **Ms. Spinster's Novel Grammar** __ translated into the more than six thousand major languages of the world, and every one of those speakers buys one, I may just avoid debtor's prison—narrowly.

_Then_ how the word will spread about how _much_ you get at Ms. Spinster's Novel School of Grammar, including free transportation on the Omnibus. I'm _bound_ to be in the black! The Humpty Dumptys will be falling all over themselves wondering how to convert their single, one-monotonous silly bus into a moneymaking Omnibus. Look! One's just now fallen off the wall-to-wall tedium—and smashed into a million pieces of pedantry! And despite the most well-intentioned efforts of the Jigsaw Brigade to piece the dilapidated pile of pedeggogy back into the shell that was its former eggsistence, thus putting the egg back on its face, or the face back on its egg, there it lies—mere shards of calcium—in the most piteous shambles. Even all the King's English and all the King's men can't put Humpty together again. _How come?_ Well, because he was never really together in the first place, was he now?

But _we_ are together, aren't we, darlings? you and I, here in Room 101, 101 Ms. Spinster's Way. And what a way it is! A 101-way thoroughfare, the Humor Express— _all aboard the_ _free Omnibus!_ —that cuts directly through Funny Bone, completely bypassing Pedantry, Pedeggogy, Eggheadedness, Didactics, Stuffiness, Boredom, Monotony, Tedium, and all points Hidebound for Humpty Dumptyville, and gets you, what, _straight_ into Learning-Grammar? No way! By way of Tickle-Your-Funny-Bone and Santa Mnemonica—in the fastest possible time. Yes, and you can thank your lucky stars that you're all aboard the Omnibus, and not on _bored_ the silly bus, where you would soon be driven to tears by an eggheaded Humpty Dumpty—a tenured egghead at that. Why tenured? Why, because ten years is the minimum length of time required to get a Humpty Dumpty so eggucationally hard-boiled he's qualified to drive a silly bus, isn't it? But then such eggheads, despite being hard-boiled for ten years, are never ever considered, except by a Humpty Dumpty administrator, _well_ done, are they? And what are they high in as a result? _Right!_ Irony. There's a nice knock-down argument for you.

And here's _glory_ for you, my Omnibusing darlings, all of whom I could just buss on the cheek: since _I,_ and not some eggheaded Humpty Dumpty, am in the driver's seat, and steering a true-revolutionary course for Learning-Grammar, your pint-size noodles fairly itching to get there via Oodles-of-Celebrities; and given that this present address—yes, one, oh _one_ Ms. Spinster's way—has now come to an end, which, as you already learned, is in your beginning, well, shall we commence?

3. Grammatis Personae

** **

_If the stars should appear but one night every thousand years, how man would marvel and stare._

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

_The play's the thing . . ._

—William Shakespeare

Quote, 'players in the grammar,' as you see,

We're 'marked' by comedy and tragedy.

You see it in our faces, and you note

Our open mouths in profiled open quote;

Which tell you we have _such_ a lot to say,

Surrounding all the rules (the roles) we play

—On words, to make you all so doubly versed

In each you won't forget; rules so rehearsed

They're _ever_ coming out our gaping gaps

Because, you see, we never shut our yaps.

_The curtain's rising_ [nerves]; the limelight now

Is bathing us in open-mouthed deep bow,

Each in the order in which we'll appear,

A verb without which we would not be here

On stage, in life, so let us all pay, each,

Our dues to it and all the parts of speech

With grateful words we tenderly enclose

Between the open mouths we never close,

Not even when we've mouthed our closing note,

And exit stage right, each, with mute close quote.

** **

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Grammar**

****

**Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn** **-** **the Hatfields and McCoys** **-** **the Count of Nounte Cristo** **-** **Eng and Chang** **-** **Add-noun Khashoggi** **-** **King Charles the Wise** **-** **Heidi Fleiss** **-** **Abbott and Costello** **-** **James Whatt** **-** **Tweety Bird, Sylvester** **-** **the Singing Nun, the Flying Nun** **-** **Hulk Hogan** **-** **Liam Neeson** **-** **U. S. Supreme Court, Itt Iterson, Mark Geragos** **-** **Old MacDonald** **-** **Jefferson Davis** **-** **Maria Callous** **-** **Gina Lollobrigida** **-** **Wile E. Coyote** **-** **Johnny Mantis** **-** **Yousuf Karsh** **-** **Double-U. C. Fields** **-** **J. Paul Get-He** **-** **Carmen Electra** **-** **Jules Verb-Be** **-** **Prince Hamlet** **-** **Dr. Seuss, Gerund McBoing Boing** **-** **President Gerund Ford** **-** **Quincy, M. E.** **-** **Inspector Clue-So** **-** **Dr. Albert Schweitzer** **-** **Indira Gandhi** **-** **Julia Child** **-** **Antony, Cleopatra** **-** **Cal Worthington and his dog Spot** **-** **Santa Claus** **-** **Who (Leo ingratias)** **-** **Vincent van (to) Gogh** **-** **Bill and Hillary Clinton** **-** **Larry King, Bill O'Reilly** **-** **General George Patton, General Erwin Rommel** **-** **the Sheik of Araby** **-** **Sir Edmund Hillary, Tenzing Norgay** **-** **A. Verb E. Schreiber** **–** **Meat Loaf** **-** **Adolf Eichmann** **-** **Ezra Pound** **-** **Smokey Robinson** **-** **John Gotti** **-** **Hero, Leander** **-** **St. Mary** **-** **Bill Blassphemous** **-** **King Solomon** **-** **Liz Taylor** **-** **James Brown, Aretha Franklin** **-** **To be Keith** **-** **To Pack Shakur, the Notorious B-I-G** **-** **Socrates** **-** **Ravi Shankar** **-** **Dr. Jack Kevorkian** **-** **George Barris** **-** **Blackbeard** **-** **Adam and Eve** **-** **John Paul the Second** **-** **Verb Art Hoover** **-** **Tevye (Fiddler on the Roof)** **-** **Double Agent Oh-oh!7** **-** **Oreo James Simpson** **-** **George Strait** **-** **Jerry Lee Lewis, Myra Gale Brown** **-** **Con-way Twitty** **-** **Amelia Earhart, Solo Claus** **-** **Cautious Clay** **–** **Homer, Achilles** **-** **Emeril Le Gas** **-** **Otiose Redundant** **-** **Yogi Berra** **-** **Grammar Moses** **-** **Darryl Strawberry** **-** **Andy Warhol** **-** **Klaws Kinski, Rumpelteazer** **-** **Marlo Thomas, Phil Donahue** **-** **Judge Roy Bean** **-** **Andro Clauz and the Lion** **-** **Jesus Christ** **-** **Airy-Anna Huffington, the Three Little Pigs** **-** **Party Hearst** **-** **Donald Rumsfeld, Dubya Bush** **-** **Lord Baden-Powell, Juliette Gordon Low** **-** **Ernestine the Telephone Operator** **-** **Donald Trump** **-** **Declarabelle Cow** **-** **Francis Gary Powers** **-** **Bob Weir, Jerry Garcia** **-** **Winston Churchill** **-** **Elsie the Borden Cow** **-** **Paul Revere, William Dawes**

**Punctuation, Typography, and Spelling**

**Noah and Wallace Beery** **-** **Clause von Beaut-Low** **-** **Ma and Pa Kettle** **-** **Pope Pie-us-in-the-Skyus** **-** **the Barker Gang** **-** **Nessie the Loch Ness Monster** **-** **Lee Apperson** **-** **Yo-Yo Ma, Klaus Schulze** **-** **Prime Minister Tojo, Komma Kazi** **-** **Kama Sutra, Heer, Ranjha** **-** **the Virgin Mary, Joseph** **-** **Semi-Colon Powell, Kofi Annan** **-** **Dr. Laura** **-** **Red Riding Hood, the Big Bad Wolf** **-** **Jascha Halfetz** **-** **Colon Powell** **-** **Growl Tiger** **–** **Cologne Ranger** **-** **Lon Chaney** **-** **Loretta Lynn** **-** **Jimmy Carter** **-** **Vanessa, Lynn Redgrave** **-** **Kato Kolon, Marcia Clark** **-** **Bodhidharma, Fooy Tu Yu** **-** **Clara Bow** **-** **King Tut** **-** **Desi Arnaz, Lucille Ball** **-** **Vishnu, Shiva, Brahma** **-** **F. Lie Bailey, Mark Fuhrman, Judge Lance Ito** **-** **Whynonah Ryder** **-** **Johnny Chung** **-** **Simon Phraser** **-** **James What** **-** **Werewolfman Jack** **-** **Mark Twain** **-** **Franchot Tone** **–** **Pope Innocent XII** **-** **Hyph-Hitler, Hypha-Brawn** **-** **Chicken Little, Henny Penny** **-** **Henry Chicken Hawk** **-** **Dick and Jane** **-** **Job** **-** **Count Dracula** **-** **Mother Nature** **-** **Dash—Heel Hammett, Lillian Heel-Man** **-** **John E. Dash** **-** **Charles Dickens** **-** **Virgule, Augustus Caesar** **-** **Father Christmas** **-** **Daddy Warbucks, Li'l Endorphin Annie** **-** **Alexandre Dumas fils, Alexandre Dumas père** **-** **Ehud Barak, Yasser Arafat, Bill Clinton** **-** **Reginald Perrín, C. J.** **-** **"Stockmarket" Channing** **-** **Karl Marx** **-** **Gene Tearney** **-** **Groucho Marx, Margaret Dumont** **-** **Mother Teresa** **-** **Jock Shy-raq, Tommy Franks** **-** **the Lone Ranger, Taunto** **-** **Roy Rogers, Bullet, Dale Evans** **-** **Italex Baldwin** **-** **Itallica** **-** **Italixandre Dumas, Mary, Queen of Scots; Elizabeth I** **-** **Julius Caesar** **-** **Italex And/or the Great** **-** **Dennis Miller** **-** **Baron von Müncháusen** **-** **Diane von Fürstenberg** **-** **Eric Burdon and the Animals** **-** **Napoleon** **-** **Little Goody Two-Shoes** **-** **JFK,** **MAMO** **-** **Sherlock Holmes, Watson** **-** **William Words'-worth, Lord Byron** **-** **Lou Rawls** **-** **Jayne Mansfield, Gypsy Rose Lee** **-** **Anna "Nickel" Smith, J. Howard Marshall** **-** **Lucky Luciano** **-** **Charlotte and Emily Brontë** **-** **Frank Lloyd Write** **-** **Aaron Spelling** **-** **Sheila E.** **-** **John Wayne** **-** **Francis Cardinal Spellman** **-** **Opie, Andy, Aunt Bee** **-** **David Letter-man, Paul Shaffer** **-** **Ferdinand the Bull** **-** **Poseidon** **-** **Hester Prynne** **-** **Dick Cave-it** **-** **King Arthur, Merlin**

**Style: How To Make a Perfect Sprachgefühl of Yourself**

**Samuel Johnson, James Boswell** **-** **Aim-eh Semple McPherson** **-** **Miss Manners** **-** **Daisy Mae, Li'l Abner** **-** **Uncle Sam** **-** **Fatty Arbuckle** **-** **Leonardo da Vinci, Pope Leo X** **-** **Ogden Nash** **-** **Geoffrey Chaucer** **-** **Nadia Comaneci** **-** **Bernie Ebbers** **-** **Richard Pryor** **-** **Vlad the Imp(paler)** **-** **Joseph Stalin** **-** **Frit Slang** **-** **Zorba the Greek** **-** **the Divine Ms. M** **-** **Captain Queeg** **-** **Errol Flynn** **-** **Edgar Allan Poe** **-** **Neolo Donnell** **-** **Pablo Picasso** **-** **John Cleese** **-** **Alexander Graham Bell** **-** **Adam Clayton Vowel** **-** **Bloody Mary** **-** **Romeo and Juliet** **-** **Dean Martin** **-** **Harry Potter, Pol Pot** **-** **Verb-be Hancock, Baba Ram Dass, Allen Ginsberg, Timothy Leary** **-** **Attila the Hon** **-** **Ebeneezer Scrooge, Tiny Tim** **-** **Dicktion Tracy** **-** **I. Clausius** **-** **Too-loose Lautrec** **-** **Buster Crabbe** **-** **Ken Lay** **-** **Dorothy Parker** **-** **Fess Parker** **-** **Jimmy Hoffa** **-** **Sacco and Vanzetti, Governor Dukakis** **-** **Elle McPherson** **-** **Rhett Butler, Scarlett O'Hara** **-** **Lee Marvin, Michelle Triola** **-** **Mr. Magoo, Waldo** **-** **Ramblin' Jack Elliott** **-** **Pierre and Madame Curie** **-** **the Dung Beetles** **-** **George Foreman** **-** **the London Bombers** **-** **Timothy McVeigh** **-** **Omar Khayyám** **-** **Stephen King** **-** **Strother Martin, Cool Hand Luke** **-** **Jonah** **-** **Donkey Hoaty, Sancho Panza** **-** **Judge Learned Hand** **-** **Judge Judy** **-** **Glen Campbell** **-** **Steffi Graf, André Agasseed** **-** **Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald** **-** **Florence Nightingale** **-** **Ewmew Fudd** **-** **Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan** **-** **Arnold Schwarzenegger, Maria Shriver** **-** **Gene Simmons, Shannon Tweed** **-** **William Shakespeare** **-** **Demosthenes** **-** **Marie Antoinette, King Louis XVI** **-** **Barbara and Jenna Bush** **-** **Anaïs Nym, Henry Miller** **-** **k.d. language** **-** **Nicéphore Niepce** **-** **Al Jolson** **-** **Franz Anton Mesmer** **-** **"Blind" Justice** **-** **Plato** **-** **Coco Chanel** **-** **Captain Nemo** **-** **Tom Mix** **-** **Heathcliff and Catherine** **-** **William Tell** **-** **Tina Turner** **-** **John Steinbeck** **-** **Det. Sgt. Joe Friday** **-** **the Earl of Suffix** **-** **Joseph Lister, Louis Pasteur** **-** **Nicolas Chauvin** **-** **Tricky Dick Nixon, Bebe Rebozo, B. b. King** **-** **Mad Max** **-** **Rudolph Diesel** **-** **Empty Dumpty, Alice in Wonderland** **-** **Judge William Young, Richard "Shoe Bomber" Reid** **-** **Dr. Phil McGraw, Oprah Winfrey** **-** **D. H. Lawrence** **-** **the Invisible Man** **-** **Edward Gibbon, Prince William Henry** **-** **Ron Goodry, Jack the Busher** **-** **L. Ron Fibhard, Beliezebub**

**Rules of Thumb—But Not _Me_  
Thumb 27 "Rules" Thumb of Us Love to Thumb Our Knowses At**

**Menachem Begin, Saddam Hussein** **-** **Ofsame been Laden, Mohamed Atta** **-** **Same Davis Jr., Dean Martin, Frank Sinatra** **-** **Sir Thomas More, King Henry VIII** **-** **Ken and Barbie** **-** **the Three Witches, Macbeth** **-** **Hoyt Active, Joe Passive** **-** **Denns Kozlouseski, Judge Michael Obus** **-** **Abu Musobbing al-Zarqawi, Satan** **-** **Cybele, Minerva Medica** **-** **J. P. More-Than, Andrew Carnegie** **-** **the Smothers Brothers, the Other Brothers** **-** **Robert Frost** **-** **the Wright Brothers, Teddy Roosevelt** **-** **Bill Cosby, Fitty Cint** **-** **Bob Hopefully, Bing Crossly** **-** **Iyore, Winnie the Pooh** **-** **Clifford Irving, Howard Hughes** **-** **Marvin Eder, Joe Weider** **-** **Gloria Old-Dead** **-** **Franz Liszt, Captain Ahab** **-** **Tarzan and Jane** **-** **Thor Heyerdahl, Jane Austen** **-** **However Hughes** **-** **Arthur Saxon, Eugen Sandow** **-** **Donald Trump, Ted Cruz, Hillary Clinton, Bernie Sanders** **-** **Con E. Francis** **-** **Martha Stewart**

Note: Only genuine celebrities are accorded star billing here. For the complete alphabetical list of players in the grammar, see **Index of Grammatis Personae**.

**  
**

4. Grammar

_You may say a cat uses good grammar. Well, a cat does—but you let a cat get excited once; you let a cat get to pulling fur with another cat on a shed, nights, and you'll hear grammar that will give you the lockjaw. Ignorant people think it's the noise which fighting cats make that is so aggravating, but it ain't so; it's the sickening grammar they use._

—Mark Twain

**The Queen of Grammar Speaks, Writes, as a Rule**

"I, Queen of Grammar, rule: _All_ subjects shall

Agree with verbs to be grammatical.

My System of rules by which words are formed

And put together to make, when you've warmed,

My subjects, to the subject, sentences

Assures you'll speak and write in spent tense, says

Your Queen, good English. By my rule I'll teach,

—And _well_ —each subject all the parts of speech.

When in your ruly minds all this embeds,

I'll 'Due!'ly place a _syntax_ on your heads

"To cover costs of ruling—that you spell,

And, yes, pronounce _correctly_ each as well.

My rote proscriptions I'll decree in lip _-'Shun!'_ s,

Or I'll write out all your right prescriptions:

All the _Do!_ s and _Don't!_ s that you'd expect,

To be so— _right!_ —grammatically correct.

Now let me hear you sing 'Long reign the Queen!

She rules so wisely over her demesne

That we _can't_ fail to get our grammar ed.s.'

If not, well, _Grammar Guards—off with their heads!_ "

_Gramercy!_ Yes, my soon-to-be-grammaticals, how many of you knew that _gramercy_ is an archaic interjection used to express surprise or gratitude? _Not one?_ Oh, but of course, how silly of me! I keep forgetting, which is so unlike me, that some of us have slightly earlier beginnings. I can't expect tenderlings of so few years to know such an old and venerable word, can I? No, but now that I've taught you it, you really have no excuse—have you?—for not saying a most reverent "Gramercy!" the _gratitude_ variety, for all our beloved Queen Grammar, who rules us by divine right, has bestowed on us: the privilege to speak and write and, above all, be _understood_. Oh, yes, and, though we place so little importance on it that it's hardly worth mentioning, to understand others in turn.

Meanwhile, class, in the catty-corner kingdom of Kaos, pandemonium reigns, much to the royal umbrage of King Kaotic who takes a mighty dim view of anyone reigning on his parade. He says to his palace guards, " _Off with his head!_ [nobody moves] Well, what are you waiting for? [a court adviser whispers in his ear] What? _I'm_ pandemonium. Okay then, never mind. But he'd better not try _ruling_ in my kingdom either! He doesn't rule _at all_? Well, it's a lucky thing he doesn't, too—otherwise he'd have lost his head long ago. I won't have anyone ruling in my kingdom—not even me. As far as I'm unconcerned, and I am, anything goes. And the first ones to go are subjects, followed right on their heels by objects. What do I want with them when I've got perfectly good _rejects_ who say or write the first barbarism that pops into their latest pop lingo, followed by 'Hail King Kaotic! Long may he not rule!' Then, true to their nature, my rejects reject being called _rejects_ in favor of being called _permissivists_ , __ and shout 'Gramercy!' the surprise variety; surprise that I let them get away with murdering the native English tongue so; laying waste to the upright realm of Grammar; committing the most unspeakable atrocities upon its subjects by not only speaking (that shows you right there how unruly they are) but writing them. My loyal rejects often commit these atrocities upon Grammar's fiercely loyal subjects ( _prescriptivists_ ) just to make them mad, knowing it pleases me, their king, immensely. I _am_ king, aren't I? You see? There's all the proof you need that I don't rule. I'm perfectly happy to let myself or any of my rejects say 'aren't I.' My not agreeing with myself is further proof that I, the unruling King of Kaos, are truly Kaotic.' "

You see what pandemonium reigns in Kaos? Small wonder the _prescriptivists_ , __ who live strictly by the rule of law, rise up as one to defend "to the death!" their beloved Grammar against the unruly _permissivists_ who eschew all rules of right and wrong right down to the _prescriptivists'_ bone of contention. Fiercely at loggerheads, the two go at it grammar and tongues.

_Oh!_ Will no one intervene? Will no one stop the bloody carnage? _Yes_ , gramercy! __ A self-anointed peace-nut farmer has do-gooderly (many say foolhardily) stepped between the two dueling monarchs and has offered to negotiate a lasting peace. Come, let us listen in: "Ahem. Queen Grammar, King Kaotic. Let me give Your Royal _Mad_ jesties a peace of my mind by suggesting that, by following my Common Ground approach to negotiating world peace, you two can find just such a piece of _terror firma_ that you can dwell upon—side by side—in peace; and in which you speak and write a common tongue. As you know, my Common Ground epiphany came to me while on my peace-nut farm down in Pain-in-the-Neck, Georgia. It struck me that if two lowly goobers can not only share the same common ground, but dwell cheek by jowl in the same shell, in complete harmony, then what aren't the possibilities of higher life forms such as people (though this is often disputed)? Well, I immediately packed my Common Ground approach to peace and took off for the Middle East where there is no shortage of common-ground nuts, and—well, you can see for yourself how peacefully this has worked out: the two are not just sharing the same common ground in a mere lasting _peace_ , but an ungodly number of _pieces_ ; and not just dwelling side by side in the midst of one measly shell, but homicide by suicide under a continuous barrage of _shells_."

Which is one peace-nut's roundabout way of saying there simply is no common ground that Queen Grammar and King Kaotic can share in one peace. And since we must choose sides, I choose to be on the side of Queen Grammar, which means that _you_ will be on that side as well. And well that you are! Unlike the slough of despond that is Kaos, Grammar is quite the most choice bit of real estate: a gee, oh, _logical_ plot on which you can lay a rock-solid foundation, on top of which you can fashion the most beautiful of buildings: a grammatically flawless sentence. One that begins with a capital, ends with an end stop—and in between contains such luxurious amenities as one who first dwells upon it, then exults in it, could ever wish for: _nouns_ , _pronouns_ , _verbs_ , _participles_ , _gerunds_ , _adjectives_ , _adverbs_ , _conjunctions_ , _prepositions_ , _phrases_ , _clauses_ —and oh so much more. And all in their proper places and relationships; all built to code that this structure might pass the most exacting inspection, and stand proud as long as there are people who care to speak, write, read, and _hear_ our Mother Tongue in all her grammatical glory.

And so, since we _prescriptivists_ could never live with such Kaotic _permissivists_ in their wanton deconstruction, let alone in peace—come! let us all join hands. _Hurry_ , Adjectina, Chadverb, Noungelica! _Run_ , Pattyciple, Edverb, Gerundine! Now that we are all on the same page, so to speak and write, come, let us gaily sally forth together into the bountiful queendom of Grammar, gathering the disparate pieces we'll need to build the sound and beautiful constructions that so suit our kind—oh _look!_ What a choice bit of serendipity! We've run across the first pieces first thing. Nounette, do be a dear and pick out some particularly lovely ones for us, won't you? Yes . . . yes . . . _yes!_ What discriminating taste you have, dear. Those persons, places, and things will make quite the most solid foundation. Come, Bradjective, do hold open the bag and be so gentlemanly as to carry it for her, won't you? Oh, but don't close it up yet, for I have every reason to believe there are some even more choice ones directly ahead.

5. Nouns

_A noun used to be a person, place, or thing, but nounconformists were unable to keep nonconformists from verbing it._

—Anounymous

****

**_Saint_** _,_ noun _. A dead sinner revised and edited._

—Ambrose Bierce

**A Noun-Line Date, I'm Just the One(?)— _Four_ —You**

"A person, place, thing, quality, idea,

Action—too, I'm often known to be a

Point in time, event—I'm all these things.

Most singular! __ and plural, yes, that springs,

Like hope, as often from me—who can blame

Me when I have **four** genders to my name?

If I don't grab you when I'm masculine,

I'm sure to lure you when I'm feminine;

When common my quick come-on snares a suitor;

Common _failure_? No sweat! I have neuter

"I can fall back on, in any case;

**Three** cases well assure me of embrace:

Objective: get subjective (read _aggressive_ )

And I'm almost _sure_ to be possessive.

I've a lot in common I can offer

Someone; I can make a proper proffer

In the abstract _and_ in the concrete;

And **** when **** collective I'm a _bunch_ of sweet!

**Five** types—yes, I'm so flexibly noun supple,

We're _bound_ , you and I, to be a couple."

Well now that's a race verse for you, isn't it, class? Right out of the gate it ran off at the mouth to say that a noun can be a **person** ; but being built for speed, it left _me_ the work-horse burden of saying that there are many kinds of persons such as **children** _who talk in class_ , _pass notes_ , _play pranks_ , _don't listen_ , _don't do their homework—and don't learn_ ; __ while at the same time, though few and way too far between, there are precious little **boys** and **girls** _who come to school on time_ , _put an apple on someone's desk_ , _always give the correct answers_ , _and get straight A's_. In front by a head, our verse stuck its neck out and galloped on to say that a noun can be a **place** , leaving me to say that it's every learnnik's place to be in **school**. It said it could be a **thing** , but the thing it couldn't expound upon, for putting its all into pounding hooves, is that _one needs to do so every moment of every school day._ It said it could be an **idea** , but ran on, leaving me to add that the idea is **to learn**. It made strides to say it could be a **quality** , but saddled _me_ with the responsibility of saying **courtesy** toward, __**respect** for, and **fear** of the schoolmarm. Then it trotted out that a noun could be an **action** , but left it up to me to harp on **studying** ; that it could be an **event** , leaving me to say **'Recess!'** and also a **point in time** , which, of course, _I_ had to explain is **when I say it is—and not a moment before** _._

Rounding the clubhouse turn, our verse ran on that a noun can be **singular** or **plural** , but, as usual, threw the entire weight on me of saying that I might, theoretically, experience one **disappointment** , but the reality is that I would be at a considerable nounplus for the litany of **disappointments** suffered in trying to get learning into a learnnik.

Tearing down the backstretch, our verse, in sheer poetry of body language, quickly ran it by us that a noun can be all **four genders: masculine** , **feminine** , **common** , **neuter** —but again, it left it up to me to elaborate: _prank-pulling_ **boy** , ****_giggling_ **girl** , ****_below-average_ **pupil** , ****_what is the_ **MATTER**?

Heading into the final turn, our verse pounded it into little noodles that a noun can be **three cases: objective** , **subjective** , **possessive** , but once more it encumbered me with harping that the **objective** of **him/her** , **** the aforementioned learnniks, is learning; that **subjective** is **she** , the schoolmarm (a much underappreciated common noun), who takes each learnnik's learning _—_ or __ not _—_ personally; and that **possessive** is every last one of you, in the end, when either the **graduate's** passing grade or the **flunker's** _failing_ grade is yours.

Thundering down the home stretch, our verse gave out—yet, ironically, still kept right on going—that a noun can be **common** , **proper** , **abstract** , **concrete** , **collective** _._ Naturally, the inconsiderate beast left it up to me to follow along behind with the scoop: that all too **common** is the mean **learnnik** ; **proper** is one with a name like **Scholarina** or **Learner** ; **abstract** is **graduation/happiness** , **_failure/sadness_** ; ** __** that **concrete** is the **student** who I can see **** is _not paying attention_ ; hear **** is ****_whispering_ ; **** smell **** is _chewing grape-flavored gum_ ; taste **** (with a kiss on the cheek for bringing me an apple) is ****_ever so sweet_ , **** touch **** is ****_the dearest thing in the world_ **** (while soft touch __ is what I, for all my unconvincing hard talk, am); and **collective** is an entire imaginary **class** of __ adorable, considerate learnniks.

Yet for all we've learned about Nouns, you'd think we might have been informed, via the verse's mouth, how he/she/it (singular Noun) goes about becoming _them_ (plural Nouns). Now who can tell us-s-s-s? _Yes-s-s-s,_ by adding **s** , thank you, Spellvira; letter perfect, as always. Thus one **learnnik** becomes any number of **learnniks**. Yet if a single **tomato** or **peach** gets together with one or more of her kind for a night on the town, they dress up in skimpy little two-piece **es** es, **** and turn shallow male heads **** as **tomatoes** __ and __**peaches**. Still others change their dress _irregularly_ , such as __**wolf/wolves** ; **cactus/cacti** ; **mouse/mice** ; **man/men** ; **child/children**. Then again, some are so slovenly that they _never_ change their dress whether they are one or many **sheep** , **deer** , **fish** , **bison** , **moose** , **swine**.

But who can tell us how to recognize nouns? Nounette? _Yes!_ They're usually preceded by words like _a_ , _an_ , _the_ , _my_ , _your_ , _his_ , _her_ , _its_ , _their_ , _some_ , _each_ , _every_ , _this_ , _that_. Anything else? Yes, _good_ , Noungelica; they have telltale endings like **-al** , **-tion** , **-ness** , **-ment** , **-ure** , **-dom** , **-ism** , **-ance** so we can tell them apart from their corresponding verbs or adjectives: _retrieve_ **/retrieval** ; ****_move_ **/motion** ; ****_firm_ **/firmness** ; ****_accomplish_ **/accomplishment** ; ****_furnish_ **/furniture** ; ****_free_ **/freedom** ; ****_colloquial/_ **colloquialism** ; ****_defy_ **/defiance**. **** But now suppose we have a word like "object." How do we know if it's a noun or a verb? Noungelica? Yes, exactly! By _pronunciation_. __ If it's a noun, the first syllable is stressed: **ob** -ject; if a verb, the second: ob- **ject**. Some others are: **al-** ly/al- **ly** ; **con-** flict/con- **flict** ; **con-** tract/con- **tract** ; **con-** sole/con- **sole** ; **pres-** ent/pre- **sent**. But can anyone think of an exception? Yes, _very good_ , Pupilla: ac- **cord** , which is the same for both noun and verb (we are in ac- **cord** ; that ac- **cords** with me). Oh, but some words, like "house" and "use" are only one syllable. How do we tell the difference then? _Right!_ If it's a noun, it's pronounced with an **s** sound: **house** , **use** ; and if a verb, with a **z** sound: houze, uze. I'll bet you self-taught yourself that all on your own, didn't you, Ottodidact?

Now, is anyone in a knowing position to tell us yet another way we can identify nouns? _By their_ _position_. Good for you, Gramela. Nouns are most often found before the verb (the **student** learns); except when one finds them after the verb (go to **bed** ); or, yet again, after the preposition (in the **doghouse** ).

Oh, but now isn't that just like me! Here I've gone and expended _myself_ telling you all about Nouns when I've already spent my life savings __ on celebrity novelists to do that for you, though I don't know what on earth is to be my reward, if it isn't ingratitude, for

**The Novel Rules of Nouns**

**Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn**

Make nouns possessive with apostrophe-s or apostrophe __ alone

**the Hatfields and McCoys**

Watch the way you form the plurals of all foreign nouns

**the Count of Nounte Cristo**

Do not confuse count nouns and noncount nouns

**You-all Lee**

A collective noun usually takes a singular verb

**Add-noun Khashoggi**

Do not treat collective nouns as singular and plural in the same construction

**Eng and Chang**

Some collective nouns are always singular or always plural

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Pronouns and Antecedents**

**Old MacDonald**

A noun or indefinite pronoun used as antecedent takes a pronoun in the third person

**Jefferson Davis**

When the antecedent is a singular noun of common gender, use the masculine pronoun unless it is clear that the noun refers to a girl or a woman

**Gina Lollobrigida**

Make sure no interfering noun comes between a pronoun and its antecedent

**Wile E. Coyote**

Use an intensive pronoun to draw particular attention to a noun

**Case of Pronouns**

**Quincy, M. E.**

An appositive must be in the same case as the noun or pronoun that it identifies or explains

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**Subject-Verb Agreement**

**the Smokey Robinsons**

A compound subject of two or more nouns joined by _and_ often needs a plural verb

**Hero, Leander**

For nouns plural in form but singular in meaning, use a singular verb

**Liz Taylor**

A singular subject stays singular even if more nouns are joined to it by _in addition to, except, as well as, with, together with, no less than_

**To be Keith**

Forms of to be agree with the subject, not with the predicate noun or pronoun

**Apostrophes**

**Jock Shy-rac, Dubya Bush, Tommy Franks**

Use an apostrophe to form the possessive case of a plural noun ending in _s_

**Ma and Pa Kettle**

In compound nouns add the _'s_ to the last element of the expression, the one nearest the object possessed

**Narcissus Appos, Sophie**

Never use an apostrophe to form the plural of nouns **** and the possessive case of personal and relative pronouns

**Capitals**

**Baron von Müncháusen**

Capitalize proper nouns

**Make nouns possessive with apostrophe-s or apostrophe __ alone**

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__

**_Tom Sawyer_** _gives a fascinated Huckleberry Finn a lesson in being ownerous._

****

"You see, Huck, this possessin' business is all based on your law that possession is nine-tenths of the law. See, normally you're usin' **'s** to form the possessive of singular nouns and plural nouns not endin' in **s** : the **Mississippi's** banks; the **geese's** honks. But, Huck, your pronouns wouldn't possess any ownerous **'** for nothin', yet wouldn't dream of going out without their **s** attached to their hinder parts: here's **yours** ; that's **ours**. . . . Finally, Huck, I own that noun-tenths is a down-write fractional oddity; and since I _do_ own it . . ."

1. Tom Owns, _Possession's Noun-Tenths of the Law_

Tom Sawyer saw: "A person, Huck, 's a thing

That _wants_ , that's plum possessed with coveting

Some noun that's as possessively inclined;

None more so than another of its kind.

Huck, scratch such nouns, you'll have no cause to doubt:

Possession's _the_ most stick-out thing about

Them. Not one doesn't feel so insecure

But _has_ to be possessive—only cure!

And this possessive curse, Huck, falls no worse on

One such than upon that noun, a person.

"Huck, it's true, despite, so own-it stressed,

This person is _already_ self-possessed.

He gets a 'Yes!' from her—Huck, don't he shout it;

Watch _her_ go possessively about it

Her own way. Each loves to show, he/she,

'Possessed, he/she's _my_ trophy property

_—Mine_.' With **'s**? Huck, heck no!

**Make nouns possessive with a** (watch him crow)

**Pa's trophy 'Yes!' or**—Huck, just watch her own

Him with 'No!'s threat— **a pa's strife: he _alone_**.

__

"You see, Huck, this possessin' business is all based on your law that possession is nine tenths of the law, your remainin' one-tenth bein' your exceptions to the rule, which is just another kind of a law. See, normally you're usin' **'s** to form the possessive of singular nouns and plural nouns not endin' in **s** : the **Mississippi's** banks; the **geese's** honks. But you drop the **s** and just go with the bare-naked **'** with plural nouns already endin' in **s** : the **pirates'** treasure; the **books'** tall tales." "Tom, what about _names_ already endin' in **s**?" "Huck, they're your true switch hitters; they can take **'s** or just go with the buck-naked **'** : **Ben Rogers's** (or **Rogers'** ) whitewashin'; **Mr. Dobbins's** (or **Dobbins'** ) teachin's. Still, many of your ancients and old conventions call for droppin' the **s** : **Achilles'** heel; **Jesus'** miracles; for **goodness'** sake. __ But now your compound nouns, whether open, closed, or hyphen-ventilated, wouldn't think of droppin' any old plural **s** , favorin' stickin' it some-wheres about in their middle: **surgeon general's** warnin's/ **surgeon s general's** warnin's; **passerby's** gazes/ **passer sby's** gazes; **mother-in-law's** naggin's/ **mother s-in-law's **naggin's." "But, Tom, what if two or more nouns are both possessin' somethin' together?" "Why, then you only make the last noun possessive: Tom and **Huck's** adventures; My and **Becky's** courtship. But if they're possessin' them separately, you make _each_ noun possessive: **Aunt Polly's** and **Sid's** fits, **Injun Joe's** and **Muff Potter's** misdeeds. But your pronouns, Huck, they're your most contrary. They wouldn't possess any ownerous **'** for nothin', yet wouldn't dream of going out without their **s** attached to their hinder parts: here's **yours** ; that's **ours** ; this'n's **theirs** ; **its** paw. __ Finally, Huck, I own that noun-tenths is a down-write fractional oddity; and since I _do_ own it, I aim to _keep_ on possessin' it."

**Watch the way you form the plurals of all foreign nouns**

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**_Devil Anse Hatfield and Randall McCoy_** _: separated by the Tug, fatefully drawn together by the tug._

"Devil Anse Hatfield, our clans may be just hillbilly clans, but leastways we're _sensible_ -speakin' clans of **men** , __**women** , **children** who form our plurals with our **feet** on the ground, less'n _some_ of us, a bunch of gagglin' **geese** , **** see **mice**." "McCoy, some _for'n_ clans ain't sensible about formin' their plurals. Take them Latins: appendix/ **appendices** ; fungus/ **fungi** ; medium/ **media** ; and the Hebrews, though if they're doin' it like we're doin' it, I suspect it's the _She_ brews who're formin' all their plurals." "A **men** to that . . ."

2. McCoys and Hatfields Watch for Foreign Plurals

"We Hatfields live on one side of Tug River,

West Virginnie, not one a forgiver

Of McCoys on their Kentucky side,

As unforgivin' in their fam'ly pride.

Our clans is feudin'—over somethin' big?

You bet we is—a Hatfield-stolen pig!

Our feud's been ragin' hot for more'n a decade,

Nothin' comin' to our hot redneck aid.

Since there's been no killin' coolin' downs,

Both clans is runnin' low on proper nouns.

"But lucky for us Apple-ancient rurals,

We ain't shy concernin' makin' plurals

Of ourselves—but our clans down to dozens,

We, since we've long wed up all our cousins,

Cross the Tug to heed our matin' natures,

Searchin' for love mates despite our hatures

Of _'them for'ners'_ —and we watch out for 'em

—To make plurals. We've learned, makin' more 'em,

**Watch the way you form the plurals of**

**All for'n nouns**. We've learned you _kin_ —with love."

"Devil Anse Hatfield," Randall McCoy shot back, "our clans may be just hillbilly clans, but leastways we're two _sensible_ -speakin' clans of **men** , __**women** , and **children** who form our plurals with our **feet** on the ground, less'n _some_ of us, a bunch of gagglin' **geese** , **** see **mice**. You'd never catch **men** folk jumpin' up on no chair—not even if we saw a herd of **moose** or **deer** or a school of man-eatin' **fish**. No **dice**! We're as happy as **oxen** in mud to hear one **series** of tales of one stolen **sheep** , happier to hear of two **series** of tales about two **sheep**. And if we've got one shack that's a **shambles** we've got a hunderd that're _all_ **shambles** where our **wives** are bakin' **loaves** and rakin' **leaves** whilst we're a-ponderin' what **hooves** to bet on so's to lively up our **lives**." "But now, McCoy, there's some _for'n_ clans that ain't sensible about formin' their plurals. You take them Latins yonder 'crost the big pond with their fungus/ **fungi** ; crisis/ **crises** ; medium/ **media** ; appendix/ **appendices** ; larva/ **larvae** ; or their neighbors, the Greeks: criterion/ **criteria** ; and your French: beau/ **beaux** , **** homme/ **gens**. And the Hebrews, though I suspect, if they're doin' it like we're doin' it, it's the _She_ brews who're formin' all their plurals: kibbutz/ **kibbutzim** , cherub/ **cherubim** , mitzvah/ **mitzvoth** , **** matzo/ **matzoth**. Yet their chutzpah (clan elder) says we could spell the latters **cherubs** , **mitzvahs** , **** and **matzos** if we've a mind. Then this **shlemiel** has the crust to make sure _he_ ain't got no plural so's not to waste more'n one chutzpah on us **shlemielim**." "Them's _fightin'_ words, Hatfield. These for'n clans—who ain't no better'n **lice—** set our **teeth** on edge. We bring up our **offspring** right so they can grow up and get hitched, like **cattle** , to 'better' **halves** , and form **babies** who grow up to form _sensible_ English plurals." "A **men** to that, McCoy. Now let's get back to feudin'."

**Do not confuse count nouns and noncount nouns**

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** **

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_The_ ** _Count of Nounte Cristo_** _puts up his counts against the Noncount of Nounte Cristo._

"It appears, Count, that someone has much **angers** —" " _Stop doing that!_ you silly Noncount, or you're going to find out—first hand—why I'm as proud as _punch_ of being a Count noun. Can't you see I have a large _single_ mass of **anger**?" "Sir, I count two **angers** : a mass of **anger** and a massive **anger**. Also, you appear to have much **belligerences**." "That does it, Crisco—you fat tub of **lards**! I'm going to punch the living **daylights** out of you." "Shouldn't you punch the noncount living **daylight** out of me, Count? . . ."

3. Two Counts Feud Over Count and Noncount Nouns

The Count of Nounte Cristo was as proud

As punch of being a Count noun: " _One_ crowd

Mills round _one_ stranger at our village fount."

He asked, "Who are you?" "I, sir? The Noncount

Of Nounte Crisco at your service. _Hard_

It is for me to say, 'I'm full of **lard** ';

And so I say to you, 'I am quite full

Of **lards** ,' which I believe you call here _bull_.

How much **lards**? Oh, sir, such a HUGE amount

They're _way_ too much for you, sir, to noncount."

"Hold on!" the Count said, " _I_ 'm, as you can see,

One Count noun. Proof? There's only _one_ of me.

But you're a _Non_ count, by your own admission,

So you _can't_ count, that's a strict condition

Of a Noncount noun—it's in the _cards_

—Noncount." "I _told_ you I was full of **lards**."

" _Stop_ _doing that_ , Noncount! You're getting me

All muddled with your sham Noncountery.

Did you not learn: **Do NOT** [he wore a frown]

**Confuse a Count noun with a Noncount noun**?"

"It would appear, sir," the Noncount of Nounte Crisco said with an air of nounchalance, "that someone has much **angers** —" " _Stop doing that!_ you silly Noncount," the Count of Nounte Cristo said, "or you're going to find out—first hand—why I'm as proud as _punch_ of being a Count noun. Can't you see I have a large _single_ mass of **anger**? "Sir, I count two **angers:** a mass of **anger** and a massive **anger**. In addition, you appear to have much **belligerences**." " _Ooooh!_ Somebody hold me back. That's _another_ thing you do, you . . . you no-account Noncount: besides counterintuitively pluralizing noncount nouns—as if they could be counted (ridiculous!)—to add insult to injury, after you pigheadedly make counterfeit count nouns out of noncounterfeit noncount nouns, you use _much_ —which you're supposed to use only with _non_ count nouns, such as much **water**." "Sir, the record clearly shows that I used _much_ before them. People often give me many **advice** about that." "Look, now you're doing just the _opposite_! __ You're using _many_ —an adverb you're supposed to use exclusively before count nouns—before a _noncount_ noun. Tell me, how many **advice** can you count?" "Sir, much the same as you, many." " _Ooooh_ , that does it, Crisco—you fat tub of **lards**! You've made me Countentious—and I'm going to punch the living **daylights** out of you." "Shouldn't you punch the noncount **daylight** out of me, Count?" "Well _of course_ I should. But you've mixed me up so you've got me pulling out my **hairs**." "Do you mean the count **hairs** you pull out and split, of which you have much—" _"Many!"_ "or the many noncount **hair** you used to have on your head?" " _Many_ **hair** is _hairesy_ **** you . . . you _fathead_! Stop putting on errs!" "Sir, do you mean the much noncount **airs** I breathe, containing many **oxygens**?" " _Oooooh!_ Somebody hold me . . . "

**A collective noun usually takes a singular verb**

****

** **

**_You-all Lee_** _trucking right on by a brand-new plural verb still in the box._

"You-all see? A collective noun is a group of more than one thing or person, like _class_ , _family_ , _flock._ It usually takes singular verb/pronouns. But if you consider the members individually, it takes a plural verb/pronouns: The _middle class_ [a unit] is large and **it** generates a lot of garbage; the _majority_ [individuals] have put **their** garbage out; the _flock_ [unit] goes where the shepherd leads **it** and bleats **its** contentment; the _flock_ [members] believe everything the minister tells **them** , and pray for **their** salvation. You-all see? . . ."

4. Collective Noun, He Took No Plural Verb

Junk? "You-all" Lee hauls most all things you chuck

Away for you-all in his You-all truck.

Down you-all's street he comes to his stock call:

"You-all got some old chuck for me to haul?"

It's got so folks that have no chuck will bring

Out to the curb some spankin' _brand new_ thing

(No!) just to hear Lee sing, come garbage day,

"You-all ain't throwin' _this_ good thing away,

Now, are you?" How folks weep, to hear him speak,

That You-all day comes round but once a week.

_He's here!_ On hearing You-all's junk-hall truck,

A single gal with no Chuck (sob) to chuck,

Brings, weeping, out to curb (to neighbors' mocks),

A brand new _plural_ verb—still in the box.

But You-all Lee will have no truck with such

(He sees its pluralness is just _two_ much).

He trucks on by the plural-verber. "You-all,"

Lee sings out in passing stock eschewal,

" **A _collective_ noun** [tears on the curb],

**Youse, You-all Lee takes a _singular_ verb**.

__

"You-all must know," You-all Lee sings out in passing, "that a collective noun refers to a group made up of more than one thing or person, such as _class_ , _family_ , _committee_ , _flock._ This entity USUALLY takes a singular verb and singular pronouns. But if the members of the group are considered individually, it takes a plural verb along with plural pronouns: The _middle class_ [a unit] is very large and **it** generates no small amount of garbage; the _majority_ [individuals] have all put **their** garbage out; the _flock_ [a unit] goes wherever the shepherd leads **it** and bleats **its** contentment; the _flock_ [members] believe everything the minister tells **them** , and pray for **their** salvation. You-all see, lady? So be careful not to put out 'Every _congregation_ is convinced,' then make this lot all the more self-righteous by appending 'that **they** are the only **ones** who are going to Heaven,' even though a child could tell you there's nothing at all singular about this universal phenomenon. But look, lady, there are other collective nouns in town. You-all might try _society_ , _clergy_ , _enemy_ , _company_ , _group_ , _public_ , _team_ , _bank_ , _the BBC_ , _choir_ , _club_ , _firm_ , _government_ , _jury_ , _party_ , _ministry_ , _orchestra_ , _public_ , _school_ , _staff_ , _union_ , _audience_ , _army_ , _corporation_ , _department_ , _cabinet_ , _council_ , _faculty_ , _minority_ , _senate_ , __ or _troupe_. __ Any of these might pick up a plural verb from a _singular_ gal—but I've got my high standards. By the bye, in passing, did you-all notice that collective nouns are always composed of _living_ things, like people? Well you-all nearly noticed right. There's one exception: _mob._ By nature, a _mob_ is not composed of living persons. One glance at a _mob_ will clearly show that, collectively, this thing that mobs is dead from the neck up; a no-good mobbing piece of garbage. You-all could chuck this verb to mob, but sorry, lady, I don't pick up _deplorable_ verbs either."

**Do not treat collective nouns as singular and plural in the same construction**

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** **

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_Saudi billionaire arms dealer_ ** _Add-noun Khashoggi_** _with collective noun-wives Lamia (second), Soraya (first), and Shahpari (third)._

"Big arms dealer, I build my _harem_ with the softest arms. **It** is well stocked—and **they** are all collective gold-digging nouns. I have enough deadly arms in my _harem_ —and **they** are with me in **it** —to fight the feminazi movement that **it** is, as **they** cry that I'm a big hypocrite in treating _harem_ as both singular and plural. But this _ministry_ is no match for me. **They** fail to see **their** collective **** error: that, in treating my _harem_ , solidly built as **it** is, as **** singular and plural in the same construction, I'm not treating **them** at all. I'm . . ."

5. He Isn't Treating _Them_ at All, You See

"Big soft-arms dealer, I, Add-noun Khashoggi,

Add my nouns, like any rich old fogey,

To my noun collection—common nouns

Like private _jets_ , three-hundred-foot _yachts_ , _towns_ ;

And concrete nouns like dizzying _skyscrapers_

Scraping their heads in the sky-high vapors;

Abstract nouns, like _wealth_ and _fame_ and _power_

That so highly over _weakness_ tower.

Mostly, though, I love __ collecting (figures)

Prop-her nouns—curvaceous young _gold diggers_.

"I _love_ adding these noun-concubines

Who deal in soft arms of such charm designs

As wrap themselves round my phenomenal

Arms wealth while looking noun fee-nominal

—All singular, yes. Thus I build my harem,

Softly, with abandon, harem-scarem,

Filling **it** —and aren't **they** truly sweet,

My harem. It's not _my_ rule **Do not treat**

**Collective nouns as singular and plural**

**In the same construction** [noun: **** read _girl_ ].

"No, it's not my rule at all. But if it _were_ , I believe I would steal a moment or two from building my harem to build upon You-All Lee's admonition to the single gal left holding the plural verb to not treat the self-righteous as singular and plural in the same construction (religious faith). Yes, a true believer in my soul, I would caution the faithful not to say things like 'The Muslim _majority_ swears by all that is holy that **it** is peaceful; yet, in the face of the most heinous atrocities committed by fanatical Muslim terrorists, **they** neither speak up nor cry out a word in protest, except to claim how peaceful and moderate **their** religion is and **they** are. And the whole world outside the Muslim faith clearly sees how fundamentally wrong this is ( **it** = single pronoun; is = single verb; **they** , **their** = plural pronouns; speak up, cry out = plural verbs). But, as I said, it's not my rule, so I'll go right on building my _harem_ , __ as usual, with the softest of soft arms. **It** is already well stocked—and **they** are the most collective gold-digging nouns in the world—with the exception of one-legged Heather Mills, an activist against landmines, __ who could care less about gold, and is only out for unarm and a leg. Just ask poor heartbroken, bank-broken ex, Sir Paul McCartney (Heather Mills = single cause). Even so, I have enough deadly arms in my _harem_ —and **they** are with me in **it** —to go on fighting the feminazi movement that **it** is, as **they** cry out in self-styled grammatical correctness that I'm a big hypocrite in treating _harem_ as singular and plural in the same breath. But this fanatical _ministry_ is no match for me, armed to the nouns as I am. **They** fail to see **their** collective **** error: that, in treating my _harem_ , solidly built as **it** is, as **** singular and plural in the same construction, I'm not treating **them** at all. As you see only too well, I'm treating myself."

**Some collective nouns are always singular or always plural**

****

** **

****

_The singular "Siamese Twins"_ ** _Chang and Eng Bunker_** _. Or are they plural?_

"Chang, some collective nouns are always singular: **advice** , **significance** , **intelligence** , **sadness**. **** You'd never hear: 'Honey, I'm just going down to donate **bloods** while listening to some live **musics**.' " "That's right, Eng. And some are always plural: **scissors** , **tweezers** , **pliers** , **glasses**. You'd never hear 'Oh, Mrs. Obese, did I tell you? Dr. Loser's Diet worked so well for me that I'm _running_ out to get new **pant** , **panty** , **short** , **pedal pusher** , **leotard** , **overall** , **jean** —oh, and I certainly must make sure I get **tight**!'

6. Are We, God, One or Two Collective Noun(s)

World-famous Siamese twins, Eng and Chang,

Were two collective nouns born west of Bang-

kok, Thailand (in their day it was Siam)

—Or were they _one_?—and should they say "I _am_ "?

The two(?), joined at the abdomen and chest,

Could not decide which number served them(?) best.

"Am I _one_ thing—or are we things _two_ men?"

Both(?) Chang and Eng asked time and time again.

"Were _we_ born in Siam?—or was it _I_?

We/I must know before I/we, God, die!"

Brought to the USA collectively,

As one(?) or two(?) (they never did agree),

And put upon display as circus freaks

(Or freak?) along with all the other geeks,

They "Bunker"ed down in rural Carolina

(Bunk for _four_ ) far from their south-of-China

Home, Siam, wed, fathered many lives

(Chang 10, Eng one more) _._ " _Question solved!_ [their wives]

**Collective nouns** (some) **are** (conjoined and rural)

**Always singular—or always plural**."

__

"No question about it," Eng said to Chang. "Some collective nouns are always singular: **advice** , **significance** , **intelligence** , **machinery** , **scenery** , **sadness** , **violence** , **furniture** , **luggage** , **cutlery** , **knowledge** , **hatred** , **rice** , **information** , **oxygen** , **equipment**. **** You'd never hear: 'Honey, I'm just going down to donate **bloods** while listening to some live **musics**.' 'Yes, waiter, we'll have two **weathers** , **** please. One sunny-side up with a dash of **precipitations** , lightly grilled **atmospheres** , and a side dish of early-morning **fogs** , and the other overcast with intermittent **snows** mixed with lightly occluded rolling **thunders** ; tossed salad of baby **climates** with fresh relative **humidities** —oh, and have the chef put on fresh **airs**. **** And two **slushes** , hold the **ices**.' 'Men, you have **courages**. While you can't expect to come back home having won individual **peaces** , as human cannon **fodders** —and don't let me hear any of you correctly say **fodder** —you might well anticipate coming home in _pieces_ , thus winning one peace after all: either a final 'at peace' or, if living, an extremely uneasy peace.' " "Yes, that's right, Eng. And some are always plural: **scissors** , **tweezers** , **pliers** , **binoculars** , **glasses** , **goggles** , **forceps**. You would never hear 'Oh, Mrs. Obese, did I tell you? Dr. Loser's Diet worked so well for me that I'm _running_ out to get new **pant** , **panty** , **short** , **pedal pusher** , **culotte** , **legging** , **leotard** , **overall** , **jean** —oh, and I certainly must make sure I get **tight**!' " "Which raises a question, Chang." "What's that, Eng?" "Can we(?) not order two **waters** ; have numerous neighborhood **laundries** ; drink some **beers** ; have many **loves** ; slurp non-Italian **spaghettis** ; and, too, jointly pull out our exasperated **hairs**?" "We certainly can, Chang—and with a single **tweezer** at that!" "One question, Eng." "What's that, Chang?" "Is it any wonder we(?) two(?) question God(s)?"

6. Pronouns & Antecedents

_In Hollywood a pronoun is just one more stand-in hoping, praying for the leading noun to get sick._

—Louella Persons (antecedent to being deceased)

**It's _Personal_ When One's Pronounced Stone Blind**

At least I stand for something, unlike _you_ :

A noun and, yes, an antecedent too.

Good? Personally, I stand in so good

I never want for work in Hollywood.

I stand . . . and stand . . . and stand . . . in all **three** cases:

Subject, object, __ and possessive faces.

One I stand for always knows that it

Can count on me to stand there—every bit

Of me and I and my and mine and we.

That's five—but wait! I've __ stand-ins **twenty-three**.

The rest are him, her, he, she, his, hers, us,

Our, ours, it, its, their, theirs, them—phew!—and thus,

All __ they who know you've got to stand—all sing!—

For something or you'll fall for anything,

Like you and—eh, how's that? What's that you say?

I— _me_ —in my unseeing-pronoun way

Conveniently neglected mentioning

Your standing for some antecedent thing?

And yours stands for pronouncing me stone blind

As well? Yes, so you do. Hmmph! Never mind.

Oh, my little _could_ -stand-to-pay-attentions. As much as the feminine side of Pronouns could easily stand to spare any number of male pronouns, such as _he_ , _him_ , _his_ , and _himself_ , __ and I could stand to receive them, she doesn't, and I don't. And if you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything, like foolishly believing the maxim _Pronouns stand a person in good stead_ , when the cold, hard truth is, pronouns only dispassionately stand instead of a person. As bitter proof, take the sentence ( _please_ ) "An unmarried schoolmarm and **I** **** are studying _The Role of Heartless Pronouns in Spinsterhood Throughout History_." Who can tell us what that stands for? . . . Eh? _Po'-little-gal correctness._ Yes, well, uh . . . how perspicacious of you, Precosha, so insensitively perceptive for your ag—there there, now, dear, it was a good if unfeeling answer all the same. And you might have added _loneliness_ , _unfairness_ , _childlessness_ , _heartache_. . . __ But those aren't what I had in mind, not much, are they? _What? No, I'm not crying._ It's just an irritant in my first-person singular **I** , subjective case, a very personal one, and about as much as this lovelorn schoolmarm and **I** can stand. Well, since no one can tell us less insensitively, it stands for _politeness_ , doesn't it, putting someone else selflessly before yourself in speaking, even when you're not spoken for. A politeness one observes even in the objective, that less totally preoccupying other one in life: "Every heartless Mr. Right passed over the luckless-in-love schoolmarm and **me**." _What?_ Look, my hard-pressed gingham dress is as floored as I am. Can I help it if my Freudian slips are showing?

But look here, you've deliberately gotten me off on another of my tears—all right, _tears_. Anything to keep from being pro-learning. But I'll not be put off in getting all _eight_ kinds of pronouns, and what they stand for, into your empty little noodles.

**Personal:** _I_ , _me_ , _my_ , _mine_ , _you_ , _your_ , _yours_ , _he_ , _him_ , _his_ , _she_ , _her_ , _hers_ , _it_ , _its_ , _we_ , _us_ , _our_ , _ours_ , _they_ , _them_ , _their_ , _theirs_

**Their** pro-noun specialty is standing for persons and things. But how stand-up can these Type-P personalities be when **they** swear—every one of **them** —" **We** come in three cases (subjective, objective, possessive), but only one box listing the twenty-three personal pronouns and the eight possessive adjectives"? In due course **you** and **I** will look into that box in **Case of Pronouns**.

**Relative:** _who_ , _whose_ , _whom_ , _which_ , _that_ , _whoever_ , _whosoever_ , _whomever_ , _whomsoever_ , _whichever_ , _whichsoever_ , _whatever_ , _whatsoever_ , _whenever_ , _whensoever_

**Whoever** she may be, the schoolmarm **who** wants to get learning into learnniks must resort to **whichever** method is effective, **whenever** she's got their ear, **** so she'll be certain to get their relatively universal response: **"Whatever."**

**Demonstrative:** _this_ , _that_ , _these_ , _those_ , _such_

**This** is the demonstrably money-grubbing Financial District; **that** is our hybrid Mercedes; **these** are our newest-generation Blackberries and iPhones; **those** are our hedge fund parents; **such** is the hypocrisy of us Occupy Wall Streeters.

**Interrogative:** _who_ , _whom_ , _whose_ , _which_ , _what_

Meanwhile, down at the **whose** gow interrogators are grilling demonstrators: " **What** is your beef?" " **Which** one of you is most convinced that FOX NEWS is not a legitimate news organization?" **Who** thinks that shouting down free speech is protected by the First Amendment? To **whom** is your ignorance directed. **Whose** "Free Mumia!" **** sign is this?

**Reflexive:** _myself_ , _yourself_ , _himself_ , _herself_ , _itself_ , _oneself_ , _ourselves_ , _yourselves_ , _themselves_

All of you—you have only **yourselves** , your own self-absorbed, self-radicalized society to blame for getting your little pronominal heads bashed, though you'll reflexively blame that other society.

**Intensive:** _myself_ , _yourself_ , _himself_ , _herself_ , _itself_ , _oneself_ , _ourselves_ , _yourselves_ , _themselves_

You **yourselves** need to hold the mirror up to your intense little faces **themselves**.

**Indefinite:** _all_ , _another_ , _any_ , _anyone_ , _anybody_ , _anything_ , _something_ , _somebody_ , _every_ , _everybody_ , _everyone_ , _everything_ , _few_ , _fewer_ , _many_ , _nobody_ , _none_ , _one_ , _several_ , _some_ , _each_ , _enough_ , _less_ , _little_ , _much_ , _more_ , _most_ , _both_ , _either_ , _neither_

**Anybody** can see you're occupiers. N **obody** is getting out of here; **everybody** is going to be held indefinitely. That should be **enough** to teach **every one** of you **** a lesson, if not **several**.

**Reciprocal:** _each other_ , _one another_

And while you're cooling your heels you can point your far-left fingers at **each other** and blame **one another** for getting your heads bashed and thrown in the **whose** gow.

As for that polite schoolmarm and **me** , who stand for law and order and _learning_ , __ the thing she and **I** _can't_ stand, besides not standing at the altar, is **those** demonstrably **** dunce-capped little stand-in-the-corners **who** don't get by heart

**The Novel Rules of Pronouns and Antecedents**

**King Charles the Wise**

Use the simple personal pronoun as subject

**Heidi Fleiss**

If the pronoun is acting as a subject, use _I_ ; if it's acting as an object, use _me_

**You and I**

The personal pronouns, and _who_ , __ change form as subject/object

**Abbott and Costello**

_Who_ refers to persons, _which_ refers to things, and _that_ refers to persons or things

**James Whatt**

_What_ should not be used to refer to an expressed antecedent

**Tweety Bird and Sylvester**

Singular pronouns refer to singular antecedents

**the Singing Nun, the Flying Nun**

Singular pronouns require singular verbs

**Hulk Hogan**

A pronoun must agree with its antecedent in gender, number, and person

**Liam Neeson**

The antecedent of a pronoun should be expressed, not merely implied

**U. S. Supreme Court, Itt Iterson, Mark Geragos**

Do not use impersonal _it_ and the pronoun _it_ in the same sentence

**Old MacDonald**

A noun or indefinite pronoun used as antecedent takes a pronoun in the third person

**Jefferson Davis**

When the antecedent is a singular noun of common gender, use the masculine pronoun unless it is clear that the noun refers to a girl or a woman

**Maria Callous**

Avoid the missing antecedent

**Gina Lollobrigida**

Make sure no interfering noun comes between a pronoun and its antecedent

**Wile E. Coyote**

Use an intensive pronoun to draw particular attention to a noun

**Johnny Mantis**

Use a reflexive pronoun to refer to the subject of a sentence

**Yousuf Karsh**

In formal writing, avoid the use of _you_ to mean people in general

**Double-U. C. Fields**

Trouble! Double reference for a pronoun

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Case of Pronouns**

**J. Paul Get-He**

Use the possessive case of pronouns to show ownership

**Carmen Electra**

In a comparison, a pronoun is nominative if it's the subject of a stated/understood verb

**Jules Verb-Be**

The pronoun following any part of the verb be, and referring to the subject, is in the nominative case

**Quincy, M. E.**

An appositive must be in the same case as the noun or pronoun that it identifies or explains

**Antony and Cleopatra**

Pronouns in the possessive case differ depending on whether the possessed object comes before or after the pronoun

**Cal Worthington and his dog Spot**

_Who_ and _whoever_ are used as subjects of verbs and predicate pronouns; _whom_ and _whomever_ are used as objects of verbs and prepositions

**Subject–Verb Agreement**

**James Brown, Aretha Franklin**

When a relative pronoun functions as a subject, the verb must agree with it in number

**To be Keith**

Forms of to be agree with the subject, not with the predicate noun or pronoun

**Apostrophes**

****

**Narcissus Appos, Sophie**

Never use an apostrophe to form the plural of nouns **** and the possessive case of personal and relative pronouns

**Rules of Thumb—But Not Me!**

**Ofsame been Laden, Mohamed Atta**

Avoid the use of _same_ in place of a personal pronoun

**Use the simple personal pronoun as subject**

****

** **

****

**_King Charles the Wise_** _would have his subjects save their reflexes for their headless twitching bodies._

"There is another class of simpletons whose members have no heads on their shoulders, thinking that the simple personal pronoun ( **I** , **you** , **he** , **she** , **** etc.) is way too simple to be used as subject. And what is their reflex action? They _un_ wisely use a reflexive pronoun ( **myself** , **himself** , **herself** , **** etc.). So what comes out their miserable stubs are such cutting-edge constructions as 'My head and **myself** have been separated for some time now.' 'Does **yourself** take So-and-so to be your lawfully wedded wife?' ' **Myself** do.' "

7. He Wisely Used His Simple Ones as Subjects

King Charles the Wise was, though of Gallic yammer,

One smart aleck come to English grammar:

He knew nouns were persons, places, things,

And every one of them were _his_ , the King's;

And of these three noun groups, by far the best

To have were persons, his to be possessed,

_Oui_ , his to have kneel down upon their knees,

_Oui,_ damned well have them kneel as it may please

His Highness, face down (prone, oui, was routine),

When he was prone to feed his guillotine.

His nouns, his Gallic subjects, thus were dreading

Cold subjection to Charles' whim—beheading.

Of these fated subjects to be dead,

Some few were smart, some simple in the head.

The simpletons knelt down without a word,

But some _smart_ alecks cried out to be heard,

So damning Charles (so personally said),

Charles saw each had _already_ lost his head.

He learned: __**Use the** (to make them [sigh-leant] stub-necked)

**_Simple_ personal prone noun as subject**.

"Foh!" King Charles the Wise asseverated between severing heads. "One simply needs to use one's head to know a knee-jerk reaction, such as the reflexive twitching of a headless kneeling prone-noun, when one sees one. Speaking of kneeling subjects, there is another class of simpletons whose members have no heads on their shoulders either for having previously knelt down to the mistaken assumption that the simple personal pronoun ( **I** , **you** , **he** , **she** , **it** , **we** , **they** ) is way too simple to be used as subject. This is based on their knee-jerk reaction that there is _nothing_ simple about grammar. And what is their reflex action? Hah! They _un_ wisely use a reflexive pronoun ( **myself** , **himself** , **herself** , **oneself** , **itself** , **ourselves** , **yourself** , **yourselves** , **themselves** ) instead of, _oui_ , the simple personal pronoun as subject. This knee-jerk reaction is well called the 'untriggered reflexive.' And so what comes out their miserable stubs are such cutting-edge constructions as 'My head and **myself** have been separated for some time now.' Naturally, this reminds them of that fateful moment when they were asked, 'Does **yourself** take So-and-so to be your lawfully wedded wife?' and they simple-headedly replied, ' **Myself** do.' Way too simple to realize that reflexive pronouns, used _properly_ , function as the objects of verbs or prepositions and 'reflect' upon the _subject_ , these simpletons wistfully reflect instead upon their never having had, appearances to the contrary, a head on their shoulders then either. 'Ah, well,' **themselves** sigh, 'at least no one can say **ourselves** aren't clearly the bleeding objects of ridicule.' To which **I** have the simple knee-jerk impulse to add, 'As **they** who lost their heads before you, **you** should take heed to _Use the simple personal pronoun as subject_.' Wisely, simply, intensively, **I myself** would like to _bloody_ well second that emotion."

**If the pronoun is acting as a subject, use _I_ ; if it's acting as an object, use _me_**

**__**

** **

****

_"Hollywood Madam"_ ** _Heidi Fleiss_** _addresses her pro nouns._

"Look, some of **you** are new; so before I send **you** out into the Hollywood night, listen up: **you** are pro nouns, and I expect **you** to _act_ like pro nouns. Remember what I tell **you** : **you** are both the subjects _and_ the objects of desire. If he wants to subject **you** to __ some kinky fantasy, don't object. Instead, lay on him your most arousingly personal pro noun **I**. If he wants to objectify **you** , don't reflexively lay _'Sexist!'_ on him. **You** are not reflexive pro nouns. Ever so softly, lay on him your most alluringly full-figured pro-noun **me**. . . ."

8. You're _Pro_ -Nouns: Subjects/Objects of Desire

Hip "Hollywood Pro Madam" Heidi Fleiss

Gave all her pros this sage pro-noun advice:

"Remember now, I'm the _collective_ noun,

And you're the _pro-per_ (pro per getting down

To business) nouns—you're businesslike, you're _pros_ ,

And I expect you to act just like those:

If what he wants is a pro _object_ , be

'Ob'liging—lay on him your pro noun **me**.

If he wants to _subject_ you to . . . comply:

'Sub'serve him your first-person pro-noun **I**."

With these few hip words, Madam Heidi sent

Her pro-nouns out, and out her pro-nouns went

Into the night, all heeding her advice,

To Heidi's woe—poor _Heidi_ paid the price:

Her pro-nouns "used her" savvy business head

To send them out to earn _their_ nightly bread

As subjects (how she'd sigh) or objects ("Woe

Is me!" she'd cry out). She knew: " **If the pro-**

**noun's acting as a subject, use _sigh_ ; if**

**It's acting as an object, use _me_** (sniff).

"Ai me!" Heidi moaned. "They're going to make **me** , the Hollywood Pro Madam, and **I** Heidi Fleiss, look like fools for being so ill-used: not knowing when to use **I** and when to use **me**. **** But I guess it's not half bad. Whereas **I** should have been **me** since it's the object of the verb make, **me** was correct. But it's still half bad. _Curse_ their pro-noun hides for ill-using **I** every bit as half badly as **me** ill-used myself! Ai me! I don't think I'll ever get used to this **I/me** pronoun business. Just when I think I'm getting used to **I/me** , they make **you** —I'm talking to **you** , compound object Heidi Fleiss/Hollywood Pro Madam—and **I** look like fools. Where **you** and **I** went half bad was allowing what _should_ have been the compound object, **you** and **me** , to compound your troubles by coming out **you** and **I**. You couldn't go wrong with second-person **you** because **you** __ remains **you** whether **you** is the subject, doer of the action, or object, receiver of the action ( **You** did it. It was done unto **you**.) But you can go wrong—and did—with the first person, a confounding chameleon who is **I** when she is the subject, and **me** when she is the object. This changing of form according to gender, number, and case is called _declension_ (for the way you nervously clench your teeth when faced with deciding **who** is **who—whom** you know to be either **I** or **me** ). 'But how is it,' **you** say, 'that "when to use **I** " and "when to use **me** " can _both_ be correct? Surely **_you_** are using both **I** and **me** for a fool, or should **I** —or **me** —say _fools_?' Hey, chill out; no need to get subjective _and_ objective about it. What **you** were saying, so elliptically, was 'when to use (the pronoun) **I** ' and 'when to use (the pronoun) **me** ' _—_ both perfectly good _objects_ , which two are not so half-badly used objects of the verb use as **you** , Heidi Fleiss/Hollywood Pro Madam, feel **you** were. **You** 'll get used to it—not."

**The personal pronouns, and _who_ , __ change form as subject/object**

**__**

** **

****

_**You** only dream, **You**, of changing form as beautifully often as __Jack Lalanne_ _and **I**. _

" **You** , **You** and **I** know that personal pronouns refer to persons, mostly, and that persons are, by nature, bi-pronoun, that is, have split personalities. **They** , that is, **We** , meaning **Us** , **** change **** all the time. Now **I** , **You** , **He** , **She** , **It** , **We** , **You** , **They** are _subject_ to change; then something in **Me** , **You** , **Him** , **Her** , **It** , **You** , **Them** makes **Us** _object_. And, **You** , why shouldn't **You** and **I** , even **They** , object? It's enough to give **Me** and **You** — **Who** cares a fig about **Them**?—an identity crisis. And **You** are just as confused as **Me—I** mean . . ."

9. They Change Their Form More Than Chameleons

"Hey, **You** , let's **You** and **I** , prey on the vainer,

Hire out as personal ( _"PUSH!"_ ) trainer.

**You** , **** they'll _take_ it, all the round-as-O nouns,

Much more personally than **We** pronouns.

Hey, don't laugh, **You** , **We** could subject each

To _such_ subjective training—and then preach

To **Them** of all **They** can't eat. So food-checked,

Each object of our training would object

So bitterly— **You** , that would be the _norm_ —

**They** couldn't help themselves but change their form!

" **You** , **You** and **I** 'd soon slim **Whom** down to **Who**

( **Who** 'd soon pronounce the change for better too);

Reduce **Me** down to **I** , then **Him** to **He** ,

Fat **HER** to **She** —how subject **She** would be

To happiness!—change **Us** to **We** , then, say,

**You** , wouldn't **We** soon tone **Them** into **They**!

Then **You** , **We** 'd, **You** and **I** , let **Them** complain,

Each _object_ , to be changed right back again:

' **We** **Personal pronouns change form, as does _Who_ ,**

**As subject/object** —and _object_ **Us** do!

****

" **You** , **You** and **I** know that personal pronouns refer to persons, mostly, and that persons are, by nature, bi-pronoun, that is, have split personalities. **They** , that is, **We** , meaning **Us** , **** change **** all the time. Now **I** , **You** , **He** , **She** , **It** , **We** , **You** , **They** are _subject_ to change; then something in **Me** , **You** , **Him** , **Her** , **It** , **You** , **Them** makes **Us** _object_. And, **You** , why shouldn't **You** and **I** , even **They** , object? It's enough to give **Me** and **You** — **Who** cares a fig leaf about **Them**?—an identity crisis. And **You** are just as confused as **Me—I** mean **I—I** mean **_Me_** —oh, **I** don't know _what_ **I/Me** an! Do **I** go, **You** , with being 'right' and sounding wrong; or being 'wrong' and sounding right? or with ' **You** are as confused as **I** am,' in which case **I** would be all right . . . until **I** 'm asked, ' **Who** is **It**?' and **I** reply, ' **It** is **I** '—and get a _common tongue_ -lashing. But if **I** say ' **It** 's **Me** ,' Ms. Spinster objects, and stones **Me**. 'No one but **I** was stoned!' **I** shout. **She** draws and quarters **Me** for not saying, 'No one but **Me**.' So **I** cry, ' **It** 's _Pronoun._ ' 'Dear **Me** ,' someone says, 'is that **You**?' Suspecting even more trouble between **Me** __ and **You** than between **I** and **Me** , **I** say, ' **It** was my voice you heard, **Mine** '; then add, 'to **Whom** am I formally speaking?' only to be lashed anew. 'What **I** meant to say was,' **I** backpedal, ' **Who** am I speaking to?' Boiling oil is poured on **Me** for changing correct objective **Whom** to incorrect subjective **Who** — _and_ ending the crime with a preposition. Which, **You** , now raises a question about **You** : How many incandoesn't light bulbs does it take to change **You**? Just one—but **You** have got to _want_ to change. But **You** , **You** doesn't _ever_ want to change! What's _wrong_ with **You** , **You**? The more **You** doesn't change, the more **You** remain the same. **You** are _some_ case all right, **You . . . You . . .** _oooh_ — ** _You!_ **And so, **You** , is **It**. But, _ai me!_ don't me started."

**_Who_** **refers to persons, _which_ refers to things, and _that_ refers to persons or things**

****

** **

****

**_Bud Abbott_** _fields another baseball question from Lou Costello._

"Bud, **Who** 's taking the steroids?" "Exactly! And the ballplayers **Who** test positive have to suffer the consequences: a lucrative multi-million-dollar contract _._ " __ " **Who** takes **Which** steroids?" " _No_ , **Who** , **Which** , **** and **That** each take their own steroids: **Who** takes _Persons_ , **Which** takes _Things_ , and **That** takes _Persons_ and _Things_ , called 'stacking.' " " **Which** is on freebase?" "Now you've got it! **Which** , like **Who** and **That** , has found that _Home runs_ , _**Which** is what puts butts in seats, go better with freebase Coke_ . . ."

10. Who is _Who_? And which is _Which_? And _That_ . . .?

One day upon a ball game Lou Costello,

Ask-a-lot-of-irksome-questions fellow,

Asked his bud Bud Abbott, who'd been round

The bases plenty, "Where's each player found,

Bud? Who is **Who**? And which is **Which**? And **That**

—Which one is he? Bud, where is each one at?"

"Well, look, they're all _pro_ nouns; as most suppose,

Lou, **Who** and **Which** and **That** are in the _pros_."

And Lou says, "Oh-h-h-h-h, the _prose_. Well now, I'll be . . .

**That Which Whose** basis ain't in _poetry_?"

"No! **Who** 's on first-name basis with the fans."

" **That Which** is **Who** they're cheerin' in the stan's?"

"No, **Which** is on the next-name basis, second."

" **That** 's based on what he, the ump, has reckoned?"

" _No!_ **That** 's on name-basis that comes _third_."

" **Which** means **That** 's **Who** ain't scratched, his base secured?"

" _No!_ **Which** is scratchin' some place based in back—" " _Oh_ ,

**Who** , debased, is chewin' **That** tobacc—" " _NO!_

**_Who refers to persons, Which to things,_**

**And _That_ to things or persons** [batter swings].

" _Now_ do you see who is **Who** and which is **Which** and that is **That**?" Abbott said with an air of "See how easy it is?" Then, seeing that he hadn't exactly scored a base hit with Costello, he (after briefly considering taking a bat to his head) went on. "Look, Lou, see, it's simple—just follow the bouncing ball: He who is on first base is **Who**. **Which** is on whichever base comes after first. The player on that base that comes right after second is **That**. The base individuals **Who** (or **That** ) are on these bases look so much alike that it's hard to tell which is **Which**. In the off season, though, these pro ballplayers moonlight as relative pro _nouns_ , and then it's really quite easy to pick them apart: the ballplayers __**Who** __ take the most steroids are the ones constantly breaking the home-run record." " **Who** 's taking the steroids?" "Exactly! And the ballplayers **Who** test positive have to suffer the consequences: a lucrative multi-million-dollar contract _._ " __ " **Who** takes **Which** steroids?" " _No_ , **Who** , **Which** , **** and **That** each take their own steroids referred to them antecedent to the game: **Who** takes _Persons_ , **Which** takes _Things_ , and **That** takes _Persons_ and _Things_ , called 'stacking.' " " **Which** is on freebase?" "Now you've got it! **Which** , no less than **Who** and **That** , has found that _Home runs_ , _**Which** is what puts butts in seats, go better with freebased Coke_." " **Who** is restrictive?" " _No!_ **Who** takes the stuff like candy. **That** is restrictive. **That** restricts himself to introducing clauses (in contracts) so essential to the game, such as You know _**that** I am on the juice._ " **Who** is nonrestrictive?" " _No!_ **Which** is nonrestrictive about setting off nonrestrictive clauses with commas: The juice, _**which** is steroids_, is tops in the pros." " **Who** 's on first?" " **Whoever** gets his mitts on them first." " **Which** **Who** is **That**?" "Look, that is not a question for me. Go ask **Who** sé Canseco."

**_What_** **should not be used to refer to an expressed antecedent**

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** **

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**_James Whatt_** _wistfully reflects upon his youthful invention of the steam-powered juicer._

"I had joost successfully expressed the Auntie Cedent, but the thing **what** was even more—" " _Hold it_ , Whatt. The crime you just noo committed makes that seem a wee misdemeanor." "What is the crime **what—** " "You canna _do_ that, Whatt! You canna use **what** when you've already expressed its antecedent. In your felony expression 'the thing **what** ,' thing is the antecedent **that** you already expressed. And the law expressly says you must use **that**." "Is a mon held accoontable for a' that **what** runs in his family . . ."

11. You Canna Use _What_ to Refer to _That_

A Scot, James Whatt, a tinkerer by trade,

For all he tinkered, hardly had it made:

An orphan child, he had to suffer young

His Auntie Cedent's let-off-steaming tongue,

Expressed on _him_ ; so young James took to dreaming:

Harnessing her juicy-spittled steaming

In some bold, original invention

That might be a horse-replacing engine,

And would be a world-of-good producer:

"Ay— _that's it!_ A bra steam-powered _juicer._ "

So James built a mighty crushing press

In which his Auntie Cedent might express

Herself in all her liquefactioned spittle,

Dumped her in, and very soon no little

Good came of it: cold-expressed, a sluice

Of pure, unfiltered Auntie Cedent juice!

He cried, "Oh, Uncle Cam—come see the flow!"

Cam fainted dead away. James came to know

That **Whatt should not be used to** [Whatts, be heedant!]

**Point to an expressed**-cold **Auntie Cedent**.

"I had joost successfully expressed the Auntie Cedent," Whatt was expressing to Chief Inspector McThat of Scotland Yard (a tad too juicily for McThat), "and when Uncle Cam came to he was a wee bit steamed for—" "a' that and a' that, his bonnie Auntie _juiced_ and a' that?" "Aye, but the thing **what** was even more—" " _Hold it_ , Whatt. _Stop_ in the name of the law!" "But dinna you want me to express how I had expressed Auntie Cedent so express—" "Niver mind that, Whatt. The crime you just noo committed makes that seem, relatively speaking, a wee misdemeanor." "What is the crime **what—** " "You just said 'the crime **what**.' " "What aboot it, McThat? That's a thing **what—** " " _Stop_ a' that, Whatt!" "Stop _what_ , McThat?" "Aye, _that_ what—I mean that **what**!" "What **what** is that, McThat?" " _That_ **what** , **** Whatt!" "You mean, McThat, that **what** _what_ —" "Och, that's _it_ , Whatt! You've got me that bra steamed that I'm placing you under arrest for a' that. You have the right to remain silent—and you'd better at that for a' that! Any 'thing **what** ' you say _will_ be used as evidence against you." "What's the crime **what—** " "You canna _do_ that, Whatt! You canna use **what** when you've already expressed its antecedent. In your felony expression 'the thing **what** ,' thing is the antecedent **that** you already expressed. And the law expressly says you must use **that**." "Is a mon to be held accoontable for a' that **what** runs in his family, McThat?" "That is what I am saying, Whatt. Joost _stop_ a' that!" "I canna say, 'It's the poor **what** gets the blame'?" " _NO,_ Whatt! You'd already expressed **what** 's antecedent, poor, so the law requires **that**. Look, _I saw_ **what** _you did_ , Whatt. In _that_ there is no antecedent, expressed or itherwise, so **what** is right. Have you got _that_ , __ Whatt?" "Aye, noo aboot that bonnie steam engine **what** I joost invented . . ."

**Singular pronouns refer to singular antecedents**

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**_Tweety Bird and Sylvester_** _both have a singular way of speaking._

****

"I tought I taw a puddy tat!" "Thufferin' thucotash! _Neither_ one of your drumthtickth are big enough to make a thatifyin' meal of." "An _untingular_ puddy tat." "What a none-flatterin' thing to thay to a thalivatin' feline." "Well, you taid, ' _Neither_ one of your drumtickt are,' when you tould have taid, ' _Neither_ one of your drumtickt is,' even though I can't tay the letter _s_ , __ but I'll make an ektepton in thit cate. Jut like me, _neither_ it tingular." " _Every latht one_ of my nine liveth rethitht it.' 'NO, tilly puddy tat, rethi _th_. . . ."

12. They Both Were Singular in Their Own Way

" 'I tought I taw a puddy tat!' sang Tweety

. . . Then. _Before_ , a different tune this sweetie

Bird sang—prone, a most improper noun,

To sing—for _joy_ —and I, a copper noun,

Was sworn to bust him for—he _mustn't_ sing

So joyously, so free of care to bring

Tears to my eyes to hear him—oh, the crime!

As if all life were one sweet-singing time.

So, fast, I got this songster off the street,

And put him ( _justice_ ) in the catbird seat:

__

"I busted Tweety, put him in a cage,

Said, 'Sing _now_ , jailbird—for your whole plume age!

But don't try singing through your teeth. Man knows

Canaries don't have teeth in pearly rows.

In fact, one cannot see a single tooth

When Tweetys sing.' He sang no song; in truth,

He lay _face down_. __ I sang (he was, for clenchers,

_Dead_ against a single show of dentures),

' **Singular prone nouns refer to— _Sing_ , you!—**

**lar anti-see-dents**. Back to life I'd bring you!'

"But the most _singular_ thing about the little guy was that, even though it was then in the process of breaking (I realize now) there was always a song in his tiny caged heart. There was one song, the only duet he used to sing: espying an ill-intentioned feline sneaking up on his cage, he'd sing out, 'I tought I taw a puddy tat!' 'Thufferin' thucotash!' Sylvester would say, his nose pressed au cage. ' _Neither_ one of your drumthtickth are big enough to make a thatifyin' meal of.' 'I _did_ tee a puddy tat. An _untingular_ puddy tat at dat.' 'What a none-flatterin' thing to thay to a thalivatin' feline.' 'Well you're not. You taid, " _Neither_ one of your drumtickt are" when you tould have taid, " _Neither_ one of your drumtickt is," even though I can't tay the letter _s_ , __ but I'll make a lone ektepton in thit cate. Jut like me, _neither—_ and alto _each, either, tomebody, anyone, anybody, everybody,_ and _nobody_ —it tingular.' 'That may be tho, but _every latht one_ of my nine liveth rethitht it.' 'NO, you tilly puddy tat, rethi _th_. _Every latht one_ it tingular, and you have to tay _one_ rethi _th_ with an _s_ for tingular, even though I can't tay the letter _s_ , but I'll make an ektepton in thit cate.' 'You've got the motht thingular way of thpeaking, for a thingularly thmall birdbrain. And _thomebody_ of uth two are not very edumacated.' 'NO, you tilly Tylveter. _Tomebody_ it tingular, are it plural. You've got to tay, " _tomebody_ of ut two it not very edumacated." ' 'Oh, _I_ thee—ith ith _thingular_. Well now who'd've thought a birdbrain would ever have taught me thuch a utheleth pieth of themanticth.' And once again Sylvester would turn and slink off to catnap upon the profundity of it all. And once more Tweety would sing after him, 'Oh Tylveter.' 'Yeth?' 'I taw tomething too.' 'Whath that?' 'I taw I taught a puddy tat!' And he'd sing for pure joy. (Tigh) I mitt the tingular little tongter already."

**Singular pronouns require singular verbs**

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_The_ ** _Singing Nun, The Flying Nun_** _: "If only we could be 'none.' "_

"O God," the Singing Nun sang, "indefinite pronouns take vows of celibacy too. But at least they get to 'take' singular verbs: 'Do you, **everyone** (though you're closely wedded to the sense of plurality), take takes to be your lawfully wedded _singular_ verb, thus still remaining _single_? Oh, if only I could be **none**. Unlike the Flying Nun—and me—I'd have a 50/50 chance of being plural _._ While **none** __ (meaning **no one** ) has any chance of taking a plural verb, I _believe_ **none** (meaning **not any** ) _are going to be single much longer!_ . . ."
_  
_

13. Each Singular Nun Wished She Could Be None

Dubbed _Soeur Sourire_ (in Nunglish "Sister Smile"),

The Singing Nun had some hit-single style:

Dressed to the nuns in customary habit,

Stardom beckoned—but she didn't grab it

(Limelight-shy); she beat it (not hit-song bent)

With guitar, chaste, back into the convent,

There to sing and entertain but sisters,

Nunsung Number One of fame-resisters.

_Poof!_ Her Singing Nun career went under;

Just another Singing Nun-hit wonder.

__

One day she heard of a _flying_ nun

Who sallied over field (such flying fun!).

She left the convent posthaste, Soeur Sourire,

Quite left off her confessional career

For one professional, turned pro ("Bye-bye!"),

A pro-nun bound—to sing? God, no—to _fly_ _!_

But her career did not take off as planned;

A Singing pro _none_ flew at her command.

None but her voice soared: " **Singular pro-nones**

**Sing out for verbs as singular** _—_ fly ones.

__

"O God," the Singing Nun wept on. "It is a singularly sad song I sing! I _so_ wanted to be a Flying Nun and sally over field like Sister Bertrille. And yet, renouncing what promised to be an indefinite, and lucrative, career as a pro nun, I can't help feeling as **anyone** , **anybody** , **anything** , **something** , **each** , **either** , **neither** , **nothing** , **everything** , **one** , **no one** , **nobody** , **someone** , **somebody** , **everyone** , **everybody** in my position would feel: that in vowing to remain singular—for 'life'—I've instead become much _less_ than an indefinite pro _noun_. O God, I confess, I had no clue that indefinite pronouns take vows of celibacy too. But at least they get to 'take' singular verbs: 'Do you, **everyone** (even though you're closely wedded to the sense of plurality), take takes to be your lawfully wedded _singular_ verb, thus still remaining _single_ (wink wink)?' Seeing that, **everybody** in the Holy Order of Indefinitely Single-Prone Nuns Who Cry Face Down in Their Pillows Each Night cries herself to sleep. Do you think **everyone** (of them) thinks **everything** is rosy? **Neither** of the two most lonely nuns holds out hope of being more than one. **Each** laments being single. **Nobody** cares whether she lives or dies. __ As forlornly, __**no one** pines her life away: 'Oh, if only I could be **none**. At least, unlike the Flying Nun—and _me_ —I would have a fifty-fifty chance of being plural _._ While **none** __ (meaning **no one** ) of them has a snowball's chance in Hades of taking a plural verb, there's every reason to believe **none** (meaning **not any** ) are going to be single much longer. Oh heavenly bliss! We're all going to take _plural_ verbs! Oh thank you, **someone** , **somebody** , **anyone** , **anybody** , **many a one** , **more than one** , **everybody** —wherever **each** and **everyone** of you is!' That is all, Father in Having— _NOT_. **One** 'has' but one singular thing more to say: Ah! _no_ men, Ah! _no_ men . . ."

**A pronoun must agree with its antecedent in gender, number, and person**

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** **

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_Meeting his match,_ ** _Hulk Hogan_** _, is tossed into the ring._

" **She** , the Mrs., 'Pronoun the Invincible,' is one tough anti-cedent. She **** says she'll never cede that she's a _third_ person _singular_ pronoun. First to have tossed me _into_ the ring, she won't entertain (other than wrestling fans) being less than _first_ person Pronoun in my life, in, not _out_ of, the ring. She drove it home that **her** is also singularly feminist _first_ person in my life, not third, and that this pro noun suffers the nastiest of falls in not agreeing with his anti-cedent in gender _and_ number of times I'll 'be there for **her** '—in person."

14. He Found Out hard: a Pronoun Should Agree

BIG superheavynoun pro-wrestling champ

Hulk Hogan had fought hard to leave his stamp

Upon the "sport," and long, match after match,

Not one of which was fought without a catch:

The countless prop-chairs broken on his head;

The untold pints of fake blood he had bled;

The Oscar-winning grimaces of pain

He'd had to act out time and time again

In well-rehearsed falls, each made seem the thing

Of broken bones, so "tossed" out of the ring.

One night he took on, challenged to the call

(The lummox), his most death-defying fall:

The Hulk was tossed upon (one mighty fling)

His ever-loving head— _in_ to the ring.

Dead-set against once ceding him an inch,

His adversary beat the pro-noun (cinch):

Applied a stranglehold, cried, "Do you _give_?"

"—Yes, one _first_ -person fem—we'll wed. (I'll live!)

**A pro-noun must agree with** (life could worsen)

**Anti-cedent—gender, number, _person_**."

__

Hulk heaved a sigh heavier than 500-lb Andre the Giant: " **She** , the Mrs., 'Pronoun the Invincible,' is one tough anti-cedent. She **** agrees with me that she's a singularly feminist person, but says she'll never cede that she's a _third_ person _singular_ pronoun. She **** says that since she was the first to have tossed me _into_ the ring, she won't entertain (other than wrestling fans) being less than _first_ person Pronoun in my life, in—not _out_ of—the ring. Also, I'd better get this through my thick skull: since she _is_ one tough anti-cedent, she comes before me—in everything. And what I've learned (the hard way) in stepping, okay being tossed, into the ring with her **** is that **her** is also singularly feminist _first_ person in my life—not third—and that a certain pro noun suffers quite the nastiest of falls in not agreeing with his anti-cedent in gender (pro-feminist) _and_ the number of times I'll 'be there for her'—in person. First toss (head over heels), she elbow-smashed it into me that her gender was opposed to ceding me the match. Second toss (in way over my head), she drove it home (by having my head meet the top turnbuckle) that, despite the match being fixed (a friend fixed us up), whatever befalls me, _she_ is No. 1—and better be _one_ only! Third toss (headlong into debt), she hammered it home that she's just the one to toss me there. And, coup de toss, while she always gets her way, she does not have to agree with _second_ person emasculated **me** in case (divorce). Her attitude is there's no chance of her stepping out of the ring. And as soon as I, her No. 1 cede, cede her **** that her pro-feminist first person _married_ self is possessive enough to be twins, both of **her** will be **their** for me. What can I do but heave a defeated second-person sigh heavier than the Rock? **Hers** is one singularly possessive **** first-person pro-feminist _invincible_ gender. And **she** knows it."

**The antecedent of a pronoun should be expressed, not merely implied**

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**_Liam Neeson_** _, about to pay lip service to Jessica Lange antecedent to . . ._

"If I read your lips correctly, you expressly no longer wish my lips to pay your lips on-screen lip service, for which **they** will be sorry." "What is the antecedent for **they** that you were implying, but failed to express? Did you mean 'my lips,' 'your lips,' or _all four_ of the above would be sorry? You should have said, '. . . for which the former, or the latter, or the whole ball of lips, in regretful lip synch, will be sorry.' " "Give me some more lip." "I'd be happy to—Mr. Potato Head." "And just what do you mean by **that**. . . . "

15. Expressed: _Your Lips to Mine Must Not Be Plied_

Top Irish screen hunk Liam Neeson, prone

To ply his craft of acting unalone

With female co-star, never failed to prop her

Up in such a way that he would top her

Craft in each scene, making her, put down,

See, "Liam _Lunk_ —you most _im_ prop-her noun!

You ply your lips to mine, in lip caress,

In such a way that _you_ get all the press;

Which makes me see red that you're prone, as well,

To see I 'star' in on-screen kissing _hell_.

"For my part—and it's no bit part, the part

I play—I'm telling you _right_ from the start

Of shooting for my lips— _STOP!_ with your kiss

That puts me down. _Improp-her noun_ , know this:

I'm dead against the planting of the seed

In your mind _you're_ the top romantic lead;

So press my lips with yours _no more_ —don't ply

Them any more, because I've learned this (sigh):

**The anti-seedent of a prone noun** [pride]

**Should be _ex_ -pressed—and not mere Liam plied**."

"If I read your lips correctly [it was Liam's turn to sigh] you expressly no longer wish my lips to pay your lips on-screen lip service, for which **they** will be sorry." "Oh, lord," she groaned, "do I also have to get it into your thick Irish potato head that _The antecedent of a pronoun should be expressed, and not merely implied._ " "Huh? What do you mean?" "I mean **they** , as in your hopelessly ambiguous utterance '. . . for which **they** will be sorry.' What is the antecedent for **they** that you were implying, but so clearly, by which I mean _un_ clearly, failed to express? Did you mean 'my lips,' 'your lips,' or _all four_ of the above would be sorry? Therefore, you should have said, '. . . for which the former, or the latter, or the whole ball of lips, in regretful lip synch, will be sorry.' Do I make _myself_ perfectly clear?" "Give me some more lip, I mean examples, and I'll tell you." "I'd be as happy as a pig in mud to: _The gross pig rolled around in the mud in the warm noonday sun, and enjoyed **it** immensely._" "Just what do you mean by **_it_**? ** __** Did the oinker enjoy the mud, the noonday sun, or both immensely?" "I was coming to that." "Well you could have cleared up the ampiguity if you'd only substituted whatever it was the pig enjoyed for **_it_**. Give me another." "If you insist. _The mental hospital's dining room contained everything from soup to nuts. **That** was enough to cure our appetites._" "What do you mean by **_That_**? The dining room? the soup? the nuts? all of the above? You could have spared me a whole lot of spud-scratching if you'd only said _That **** (whole scene or whatever) was enough to cure our appetites._ Look—what's your second-billing name again? If we're to be pressed into lip service again as co-stars, you really must learn to make your antecedent expressly clear." "My sentiments exactly, Mr. Potato Head." "And just what do you mean by _that_?"

**Do not use impersonal _it_ and the pronoun _it_ in the same sentence**

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_Mark Geragos and Itt Iterson await ruling of the **U. S. Supreme Court** (Ruth Bader Ginsburg; David Souter; Clarence Thomas; Stephen Breyer; Antonin Scalia; John Paul Stevens; William Rehnquist; Sandra Day O'Connor; Anthony Kennedy): Court observers took it as a bad sign that the court formed an arrowhead pointed right at Iterson's neck. _

" **It** is our ruling that **it** and **it** (the impersonal **it** and the pronoun **it** ) in the same sentence, and **it** happens all too often, gives us a maddening **it** s—the only cure for which is to scratch one **it** and leave **it** , the other **it** , alone. The case of _The United Its_ v. _Itt Iterson_ , hereafter known as _Its_ v. _Itt_ , __ is a class _It_ example: _We can give Itt a lethal injection now, or we can give **it** to Itt twenty-five years from now when **it** will be more justice delayed is justice denied._ How maddening an **it** s is that? What a huge relief of **it** it would be if . . ."

16. They Used Both 'it' and 'it' in the Same Sentence

The Nine (U. S. Supreme Court) sat to hear

Itt Iterson's appeal: "The public's _cheer_

On hearing (gulp) the verdict: _'Guilty—death'_

Was prejudicial!" Thus, with lawyer's breath,

Mark Geragos, all dressed up to the Nines,

And armed with his best oily lawyer lines,

So argued: "Itt could not have murdered wife

And unborn child, depriving both of life,

For fishing." The pro-Nine deliberated

It (Itt's sentence: death) and, pro-it, **** stated:

"Nothing personal, but it's our Court

Decision to uphold it—wait— _abort!_

Case thrown out—no death! Lying cad—you're _free_

To Frey (since you won't fry). We've ruled, Scali-

a, Stevens, Rehnquist, Kennedy, O'Connor,

Ginsburg, Souter, Thomas, Breyer. Honor

Binds us to uphold it (can't excuse

The law which to ignore is death): **Don't use**

**Impersonal _it_** —DAMN! Itt won't be sent hence—

**And the pronoun _it_ in the same sentence** _._ "

The Court of TV opinion waited . . . . . . . _At last!_ "It is the ruling of this other court that **it** and **it** in the same sentence violates the Constitution of the United Its. And speaking of **it** , trust Clara Bow, 'The It Girl,' to be off in another rule just when we don't need her most. Ah, of course—Itzhak Perlman! We could've used 'It' like another hole in the head too. But where is It? Off in another rule, fiddling around while it, the palindrome, burns. **It** so burns us up that **it** is our ruling that **it** and **it** (the impersonal **it** and the pronoun **it** ) in the same sentence, and **it** happens all too often, gives us a maddening **it** s—the only cure for which is to scratch one **it** and leave **it** , the other **it** , alone. The case of _The United Its_ v. _Itt Iterson_ , hereafter known as _Its_ v. _Itt_ , __ is a class _It_ example—and the very _lowest_ class **it** is, isn't **it**? _We can give Itt a lethal injection right now, or we can give **it** to Itt twenty-five years from now when **it** will be more justice delayed is justice denied._ How maddening an **it** s is that? What a huge relief of **it** it would be if we all stood on the steps of the Supreme Court TV and said, _We can give Itt a lethal injection right now, or we can give **it** to Itt twenty-five years from now when more justice delayed will be more justice denied'_; or __ we could say, _We can string Itt up right now, or be balmy enough to stretch Itt's lying neck twenty-five years from now when **it** will be more justice delayed is more justice denied._ Whether it's now or it's twenty-five years that his wife and unborn baby will never have from now, wouldn't we all say, **_It_** _'s a great balm to our souls and we are thankful for **it**._ No! of course not. Not if **it** (our Nine lives) depended on **it**. We'd all say, _**It** 's a soothing balm to our souls (that Itt bought **it** )—no thanks to the balmy 'whether.'_ As to the case of _It_ v. _Itt in the Same Sentence,_ we have overruled our 'free' ruling. Itt's going to get it."

**A noun or indefinite pronoun used as antecedent takes a pronoun in the third person**

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_Even so,_ ** _Old MacDonald_** _finds himself woefully out of tune with his anti-seedent._

"I say, if a **man** wants to re-seed his own farm, **you** ought to be allowed to." "You old fool! You just used _second_ -person, **you** , when you ought to've used third-person **he** : 'if a **man** wants to re-seed his own farm, **he** ought to be allowed to.' " "Fine, I'll cede you that, but if a **certain somebody** wants to have a crop of wheat this fall, **I** 've got to re-seed." "Pah! Now you've used _first_ -person **I** instead of third-person **he**." "Fine, if **I** , a **certain somebody** , want to have a crop of wheat this fall, **he** 's got to re-seed." " _NO_ . . ."

17. He Had a Farm to Seed, and Sow He Did

Said Old MacDonald who'd a farm to seed,

"Well now, I'm just the man to do the deed,

For no one, come to layin' farm seed down,

Beats this old farm-reseedin' proper noun."

His Mrs. had a different point of view

Re his reseeding the old farm anew,

For "Nin" was prone to say—and told him so—

"The thing plum went to seed an _age_ ago.

I'm so blamed anti- your reseedin' it,

I'm _def'nite_ —so you'd best be heedin' it,

"Else I'll up, take our fair, young, proper noun,

As prone to leave the farm and live in town

As _I_ am, if'n you should so abuse me

As to seed the farm anew—ill-use me."

Heeding not his proper prone noun, he

Went on his old-fool farm-reseeding spree,

And, when she took to town their third-born grow-noun,

Learned: **A noun or a Nin _'def'nite'_ prone noun**

**Used as anti-seedent** [old-fool cursin']

**Takes a prone noun**—her— **in the third person**."

Swallowing his pride, Old MacDonald went to town and, with a lot of fool wheedling, managed to fetch Nin (not short for Ninny) and their tearful third-born back to the farm. "Well," the Mrs. said on arrival. "I'm glad we got that re-seedin' business straight—and it was a fair compromisin' at that, seein's how I gen'rously allowed you to cede defeat." "Well I say, if a **man** wants to re-seed his own farm, **you** ought to be allowed to." "You old-fangled fool! Didn't I just go out of my way—all the way to town—to teach your fool hide that _A noun or an indefinite pronoun used as an antecedent takes a pronoun in the third person_?" "So?" " _So?_ Why, you're even more of an old fool than I gave you credit for. You just used a _second_ -person pronoun, **you** , when you ought to have used third-person pronoun **he** : 'if a **man** wants to re-seed his own farm, **he** ought to be allowed to.' Except he _ain't_ allowed to." "Fine, I'll cede you that—but looky here. If a **certain somebody** wants to have a crop of wheat this fall, **I** 've got to re-seed." "Pah! You're more a fool by the second! Now you've gone and used _first_ -person **I** instead of third-person **he**." "Fine, I'll re-cede it your way: 'If **I** , a **certain somebody** , want to have a crop of wheat this fall, **he** 's got to re-seed." " _No,_ you blamed fool! That **'I'** you stuck in ahead of 'a **certain somebody** ' changes everything: 'a **certain somebody** ' is in apt-position to first-person **I** —meanin' they're one and the same _fool—_ so is an exception to the rule: 'If **I** , a **certain somebody,** want to have a crop of wheat this fall, **I** 've got to re-seed.' " "Looky here, **you** stop calling me a fool, **Mrs. MacDonald** —or I'm going to leave **her**." " ** _You_** , you confounded fool! That's another exception: when the antecedent is in direct address." "Well I swear I ain't never seed the beat of it." "Fine. Just try not to beat the seed of it."

**When the antecedent is a singular noun of common gender, use the masculine pronoun unless it is clear that the noun refers to a girl or a woman**

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** **

****

_Confederate President_ ** _Jefferson Davis_** _meets heated opposition to dissolving the union._

" _Every **citizen** in the union gave **his** best argument for a himocracy_, a government of the him, by the him, and for the hi—" "Not so fast. _Every **union** **member** gave **her** best argument for a femocracy._" "How about we compromise and form a _democracy_ : _Every **union** **member** gave **his** or **her** best argument for a democracy_"? "I've got a better idea: a _themocracy_ : _Every **themocrat** in the union gave **their** best argument for using singular **their**_." "Look here, Mrs. Davis, that's a _damecrazy_ —and not so –cracy after all . . ."

18. Secede From Our Dear Union? You Shall _Not_

"As one and only president of _the_

Confederate States, I say, 'Let's be _free_

—Except the slaves!" cried Jefferson F. Davis.

"Southerners—there's but _one_ act can save us

From this 'whole, United' States oppression

—Curse Abe Lincoln! our _at once_ secession

From the North, for lack of all communion

On slaveholding— _dash, dissolve_ the Union,

Go our separate ways, no longer mates;

_Divorce_ ourselves from these United States!"

_"Well!"_ Mrs. Davis (singular slaveholder)

Huffed, "We'll _see_ if you, grown union colder,

Split our union up—you're _not_ , see, 'ceding

From our union! I _use_ you—I'm _needing_

Masculine-prone you. Secede? You _can't_ , se-

cede, my slave for life—NO

**'cedent's singular, noun, common gender**

(Me), **the masculine-prone noun** (you— _tender?_ )

**_Should_ be used unless it's clear**, my 'free'-male

Slave, ******the noun's referring to a female**."

"Well now that this resig-nation has the same old precedent," J. D. sighed again, "we the people of the United States of Amatrimony have but to decide what manner of _–cracy_ should govern our union. And since I am a _man_ sworn to uphold the Himocratic Oath, and I'm president, I propose the only logical, by which I mean male chauvinistic, choice: a _himocracy_ in which, whenever the antecedent is a singular noun of common gender, everyone in the union will use the _masculine_ pronoun, unless it's patently clear that the noun refers to a dame female. Thus every he and she in the male-dominant union will answer, _Every **citizen** in the union gave **his** best argument for a himocracy_, a government of the him, by the him, and for the hi—" "Not so fast—union buster. _I_ swore to uphold the Femocratic Oath, so I propose we be governed by the only plausible, meaning I'd better get my way, or else, choice: a _femocracy_ , a government of the fem, by the fem, and for the fem, in which every union member will swear—whether he likes it or not— _Every **union** **member** gave **her** best argument for a femocracy._" "How about we compromise and form a _democracy_ , __ a government of the demned, by the demned, and for the demned, wherein every him and her will go around saying, at twice the pronominal expense, _Every **union** **member** gave **his** or **her** best argument for a democracy_"? "I've got a better idea: Let's everyone in the union agree to be governed by a _themocracy_ , a government of the thems, by the thems, and for the thems, in which every registered **themocrat** will go around saying, _Every **one** in the union gave **their** best argument for using the singular **their**_." "That's a _damecrazy_ —and not so –cracy after all. But then we men have _always_ 'lived' under this totalitarian system of control!" "And you'll never be _free_ of it either."

**Avoid the missing antecedent**

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** **

****

**_Maria Callous_** _, "La Greek Canary," has been Miss Sing throughout the entire performance of_ La Traviata. _Have you seen her?_

"Your missing, should you decide to accept it, Miss Callous, is to remain missing _throughout the entire opera_." "Given my omnipresent ego, it's the most challenging role I've ever been offered. I have remained Miss Sing throughout many operas, but to remain _missing_ , __ that _is_ a challenge. But I wouldn't miss being the Miss playing the missing antecedent for the world. I'll just warm up with an easy one. Ahem: _I never sing in the Upper Vocals. **They** don't appreciate me in the mountainous vocal ranges—tra la!_"

19. She Played the Role of Missing Antecedent

Maria Callous ("Call me 'La _Divina_ ' "),

True to her name, was, each opera _scena_ ,

Unconcerned with less-than-divas' feelings;

She, "La Prima Diva," deemed their squealings

Just that, and was callously opposed

To ceding them the least respect—case closed.

A singer's singer, she, "La Greek Canary,"

Sing-gal-handedly the show would carry:

"Only _one_ can do La Diva thing;

The rest bow down to 'La Divine Miss Sing.' "

This naturally went over, not in tune

With less-than-divas, like a lead balloon.

In every opera that she, La Divina,

Operated in like some Athena

(Goddess of war) _war_ was soon declared,

And every wounded feeling was so bared

As soon to turn each opera into _soap_ ;

Thus all the impresario could hope

For was, in future, he might be so heedant:

_Do_ **_Avoid the Miss Sing anti-cedent_**.

"Hmm, _Missing: Antecedent. Last Seen . . . Well, That Seems to be the Problem. No One Recalls Ever Having Seen It._ Now that _is_ a mouthful, isn't it?" Miss Callous trilled: __ "It's by far the longest-titled opera I've ever been courted to be La Prima Diva in. _The Divas of Our Lives_ doesn't even come close to it— _tra-la_." "Your missing, should you decide to accept it, Miss Callous," the impresario sang out with a note of favorably impressing her, "is to remain missing _throughout the entire opera_." "Well I must say, given my enormous and omnipresent ego, it's by far the most challenging role I've ever been offered. I have remained Miss Sing throughout many operas, but to remain _missing_ —throughout the whole lavish production—that _is_ a challenge. But after giving it some thought, well, I wouldn't miss being the Miss playing the missing antecedent for the world." " _Fantastico!_ When could you start?" "Right now." _"Stupendo!"_ "I'll just warm up with an easy one. Ahem: _I never sing in the Upper Vocals. **They** don't appreciate me in the mountainous vocal ranges._" " _Excellente!_ Even those who don't know the first sing about opera can see that the antecedent for **_They_** is missing and presumed nonexistent." "Okay, Act I: _The Sound of Music is my least favorite musical. **She** can't sing anywhere near as well as I can._" " _Magnifico!_ Even those who are tone deaf can hear that the antecedent for **_She_** is missing and without being." "Act II: _I ought to speak fluent Greek; I lived **there** for many years._" " _Meraviglioso!_ There is no there **_there_** _._ Greece is totally missing and presumed lost at no see." "Act III: _I won't set foot on any ship belonging to Onassis Shipping Lines. **He** dumped me for Jackie Kennedy_." " _Bravissimo!_ The s.o.b/antecedent for **_He_** is missing and presumed dead." " _GOOD!_ Now about that long-dreamed-of role in _La Boo Him . . ._ "

**Make sure no interfering noun comes between a pronoun and its antecedent**

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** **

****

_Racy-figured_ ** _Gina Lollobrigida_** _, speeding to the scene of the anti-see-dent, is pulled over._

"Okay, where's the fire, lady?" "Oh, officer, it's in their genes—this lover-noun and my innocent, love-prone daughter. **They** are where the fire always starts." "May I see your antecedent please?" "Yes. . . ." "Lady, this says genes. But genes is a suspiciously long way from **They**." "They couldn't be far _enough_ away to suit me." "And I count two interfering nouns, 'lover-noun' and 'daughter,' that come between genes and **They**." " _He_ is the one who's interfering. My daughter was just minding her own sweet business."

20. Oh, Officer, The Fire's in Their Genes

Film beauty Gina Lollobrigida

Was not known to be all so rigid a

Screen moralist, for worldwide she was seen

To love men—widely—on the BIG w—i—d—e screen.

And so they loved to go, postwar filmgoers,

See the queen of on-screen love-bestowers

Spread her love around with kisses here

And there—BIG on-screen kisses everywhere _—_

To moralists cries: "She has gone, this star,

A Gina Lollobrigida too far!"

But in real life (that moral off-screen other)

Gina was the Lollo-rigid mother

Of a toothsome love-prone noun whom Gina

(All foreseeing) aptly named Dentina,

But soon shortened—much alarmed—to "Dent,"

For the impression, deep, made on each "gent,"

Each "proper" noun who schemed of seeing her;

So Gina saw ( _"The meddler!"_ ) to **Make sure**

**No interfering noun** "gent"] **[comes between a**

**Prone noun and its anti-see-Dent** __ [Gina].

__

Gina was speeding to the rescue and was pulled over. "Okay, where's the fire, lady?" "Oh, officer, I'm afraid it's in their genes—this lover-noun and my dear, young, innocent, love-prone daughter. You see, **they** are where the fire always starts." "May I see your antecedent please?" "Yes, of course [she fumbles around in her parse by Gucci]. Here it is, officer." "Lady, this says genes." "That's right, officer." "But genes is a suspiciously long way from **they**." "They couldn't be far _enough_ away to suit me." "And I count at least two interfering nouns, 'lover-noun' and 'daughter,' that come between genes and **they**." " _He_ is the one who's doing all the interfering. My daughter was just minding her own sweet business." "I'm not buying it, lady. In my book **they** looks a lot more like 'lover-noun' and 'daughter' than it does genes. **** This looks like phony antecedent to me. Where'd you get it, from some sleazy 'Pssst, wanna buy some fake antecedent?' type?" " _No-o,_ officer, I made the thing up myself about the genes when you asked me where the fire was. **It** was completely of my own making." "Okay, look, I'm going to give you one more chance, lady. May I see your antecedent?" "Yes, yes, certainly—but I do wish you'd hurry, officer. The fire's probably a raging _conflagration_ by now [in a fluster, she turns her parse upside down and dumps the contents out]. Here it is." "This says that the antecedent of **It** is thing." "That's right, officer, it is." "But the interfering noun 'fire' comes between the pronoun **It** and the alleged antecedent thing. And 'fire' looks more like the antecedent than thing. How do you explain that?" "Oh, easily, officer. You see Gina Lollobrigida, the fiery Italian beauty, is more of a fiery Italian beauty than Sophia Loren, and **she** always gets—" "Look, lady, may I see your antecedents? _All_ of them?"

**Use an intensive pronoun to draw particular attention to a noun**

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** **

****

**_Wile E. Coyote_** _himself: "Wile Hemina, you yourself know that intensive hunger calls for intensive measures."_

"I **myself** was so ravenous I said to Wile Hemina Coyote **herself** , _You or I **myself** must catch a roadrunner—or perish!_ 'What's a "perish?' she **herself** said. 'Is it **itself** good to eat? But forget that. As usual, you **yourself** were your self-infatuated, self-serving, FATheaded self: you **yourself** didn't even offer me **myself** a scrap of that FAT by saying, _You **yourself** or I **myself** must catch a roadrunner. _Or, selflessly better yet, _You or I must catch a roadrunner._ ' 'One must selfishly look out for **oneself** ,' I said—and caught it. . . ."

21. He Knew, Himself: Use an Intensive Pronoun

That sly Wile E. Coyote was intent

On catching the Roadrunner—he was bent

On eating him, and his spare-no-expense

Attempts at " _Gotcha_ , __ Speedy!" were intense;

Thus he, to sate his running salivation,

Wrote: "Send me, dear Acme Corporation,

Surefire _catchy_ gimmicks for the chase."

Wrote Acme: "These will backfire in your face."

Spurred on by his intended's feed appeal,

He set about to catch his speedy meal.

Alas, no proper catching noun was Wile E.;

For all the beguiling catching wile he

Schemed, he always wound up, for his guile,

Flat on his face, a thwarted, hungry pile

Of eat defeat, with not an air of "Caught ya!"

To his tense hide, much less " _Ah!_ —I _got_ cha!"

His creator, Chuck Jones, cartoon-pensive,

Early on had learned: **Use an intensive**

**Prone noun to draw** [by a thwarted frown]

**Particular _"Ah!"_ tension to a noun**.

" **Myself** , I feel totally thwarted," Wile E. Coyote spat out. "That roadrunner **himself** has got to be the luckiest fleet-footed rare bit of fast food in the southwest. Though I **myself** am most intent on eating him, he **himself** is most intent on not being eaten, so it's only natural, I suppose, that we should gravitate (I **myself** by falling from a high cliff) toward using intensive pronouns. They **themselves** are most intent on taking the same form as reflexive pronouns, each a compound of one of the personal pronouns plus _self_ or _selves_ : **myself** , **yourself** , **herself** , **himself** , **itself** , **ourselves** , **yourselves** , __**themselves**. Mostly, the intensive follows on the heels **themselves** of the noun or pronoun it's intensifying: _I **myself** am so hungry I could eat a roadrunner._ But most every day luncheon is served woefully late; thus, _I am so hungry I could eat a roadrunner **myself**._ Though it can, it's _never_ (for me) served first thing: **_Myself_** _, I am so hungry I could eat a roadrunner_. Once in a howl moon it's served a bit earlier: _I am so hungry I could eat **myself** a roadrunner_. Just the other day I was so ravenous I couldn't think straight and I self-infatuatedly said to Wile Hemina Coyote **herself** , _You or I **myself** must catch a roadrunner—or perish!_ 'What's a _perish_?' she **herself** said. 'Is it **itself** good to eat? But forget that. As usual, you **yourself** were your usual self-infatuated, self-serving, FATheaded self: you **yourself** didn't even offer me **myself** a scrap of that FAT by saying, _You **yourself** or I **myself** must catch a roadrunner. _Or, selflessly better yet, _You or I must catch a roadrunner._ One mustn't use intensive pronouns so pretentiously as to end up eating one's own words **oneself**.' 'Well at least, Wile Hemina, they **themselves** would be a lot better than eating _nothing_ **itself** ,' I **myself** said—and caught it. 'You your **selfish self** are a _FAThead!_ ' she **herself** snapped."

**Use a reflexive pronoun to refer to the subject of a sentence**

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** **

****

_In concert with nature,_ ** _Johnny Mantis_** _prepares to hone his legendary reflexes._

"A dead slow ant, the subject of a death sentence, he has no one to blame but **himself**. He rightly puts the blame upon **himself** , and **himself** , a reflexive pronoun, turns right round and reflects every bit of the blame back upon he. Consequently, he and **himself** could just _die_ for being the dead-slow-witted antithesis of antelligent. Now he and **himself** have until _the twelfth of never_ to reflect that they got **themselves** in this preyed-upon pickle. Oh, _it's wonderful, it's wonderful, and I get misty reflecting upon it_ . . ."

22. Himself, He Knew: Use a Reflexive Pro Noun

"He's _so-o-o_ much faster, Johnny 'Praying' Mantis;

Faster in reflex than any ant is

— _Lightning_ fast, so chances are an ant's

Life chances, chances are, don't stand a chance,"

Sang Johnny Mantis, preying on a slow

Ant. "Look at me! I'm such a reflex pro

Noun insect catcher— _gotcha!—_ I astound;

But, though I'm justly insect-world-renowned,

It's not for me to say—no-o-o-o, not for _me_

To boast of my fast reflexivity;

"To sing my preying praises to the sky,

When entomologists _all_ glorify

Me (I get misty). I make like I'm praying

For the life of it I'll soon be laying

Hold of. Meanwhile, I just bate my breath

And silently pronounce ant sentence: death,

While pointing eyes at subject/victim—woe!

_The chances are your chances are . . ._ (I know:

**Use a reflexive _pro_ noun to point to**

**The subject of a sentence** ) . . . _awfully few._

"My first reflex action," Johnny went on singing, "is to be a **self** -employed predator; so I employ **myself**. My job then is to be every bit as reactively **self** ish as _reflexive pronouns_ : **myself** , **yourself** , **herself** , **himself** , **itself** , **ourselves** , **yourselves** , **themselves** —and I am. In preying so reflexively, my fundamental self-employed object is **self** -realization, and in so achieving my object ( **myself** ), to 'reflect' every bit of it back upon the subject (I) who, being none other than lightning-reflexed Johnny Mantis, has fast taken it upon **himself** to realize self-sustainment. Yet as much as I, a dissimulating reflexive pro noun, am always the object of affection (I falsely affect prayer), I never object to the role I play: making certain my subjects get all the action I do. Take this sentence for example: A slow ant was sentenced to death—but he has no one to blame but **himself**. We see that when he rightly puts the blame upon **himself** , **himself** turns right round and reflects every bit of the blame back upon he. Consequently, he and **himself** could just _die_ for being the dead-slow-witted antithesis of antelligent. Yet, owing to this death sentence, he and **himself** have until the twelfth of never to reflect on the choices they made that got **themselves** in this preyed-upon pickle. Slo-o-owly he may be seen kicking **himself** for subjecting **himself** to such a tragic fate; **himself** may be seen kicking **himself** for not objecting all the more to being put in this hopeless preydicament; and—wonderful! wonderful!—the two of them may be seen kicking **themselves** for thinking that I, Johnny Mantis, was _praying_ for them—when I was clearly _preying_. So, _On a clear day, rise and look around you / And you'll SEE who you are / On a clear day, how it will astoun-n-n-n-nd you / That you slow-reflexed ants can see **yourselves** being DEAD slow for ever and ever and e-e-e-ver-r-r-r-rmo-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-re._"

**In formal writing, avoid the use of _you_ to mean people in general**

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** **

****

_1938._ ** _Yousuf Karsh_** _, setting out to snap the mean people in General on his new iCam 2.shoot, starts with a hall-mirror selfie. "You don't get meaner than that, you know."_

"Hey, Yousuf, in formal writing **_you_** _should never use **you** to mean people in general_. It's not a pretty picture. In Formal English, the sole demesne of _one_ , the law requires _one_ —anyone but **you** —to say, **_One_** _should never use **you** to mean people in general—so avoid_ **_You_** _suf same._ " "Allow me to snap back. **_You_** _can see how **one** is full of **oneself**_ ; and **_you_** _can see how stuffing one's face with **one**_ s _and **anyone**_ s _can make an enormous stuffed shirt of anyone_. **You** can see how this is not good for **you** , or your damning portrait . . ."

23. You Don't Use _You_ to Mean the Common Folk

[ _Flash!_ ] **You** suf Karsh, photographer of greats,

The rich and famous, stars, and potentates,

High muckamucks, society's elite,

Was fond of snapping the mean on the street

As well, your common Joe and Josephine,

To capture just how commonplacely _mean_

They were in General, your middle town,

America, in smile as well as frown;

To document on film (a normal day)

How median, how typical were they.

One day he snapped your common, middling writer

Who saw **You** suf as a _mean_ indicter.

**You** suf, though, of mean intent, was blameless

(He would keep each mean one's meanness nameless).

Yet, "demeaned," this middling scribe snapped back

For being snapped some _mediocre_ hack,

" ** _You!_** I, by means of wielding a mean pen,

Mean fully to alert all women, men;

**Inform all, writing: 'Shun the Yousuf— _You!_ —**

**To mean the folk in General** ,' **_You_** — _ooooh!_ "

And he did: "Hey, **you—you** people in General! How many times do I have to tell **you**? In formal writing **you** should _never_ use **you** __ to mean people in general, as I just did. No, **you** can never repeat **_You_** _should never use **you** to mean people in General_ too often. In Colloquial Speech, or its sister town Informal Speech, even in the neighboring townships of Slang and Vernacular, as indeed in the nearby twin cities of Vulgarism and Barbarism, **you** can get away with using and abusing poor **you** __ in such expressions as **_You_** _can see how using **you** in this fashion is to be frowned upon_; and _Public speaking makes **you** self-conscious_. Using **you** in this crass, substandard fashion is simply _not good_ (meaning it's average) **you** sage. In sharp contrast, in the prim and proper township of Formal English, the sole demesne of _one_ , local by-laws strictly require that _one_ —anyone but **you** —stuff one's mouth (leading to a stuffed shirt) with such _one_ derful tidbits of world-renowned Formal English cuisine as **_One_** _should never use **you** to mean people in general_ as well as _Public speaking makes **one** self-conscious—so avoid_ **_You_** _suf same._ " It was one damning picture, and **You** suf snapped back: "Let me say what I mean and mean what I say about being mean: It's the mean person who says, **_You_** _can see how the mean writer is so full of himself as to be an enormous stuffed shirt_ and **_You_** _can see how stuffing one's face with a steady diet of **one**_ s _and **anyone**_ s _can make a stuffed shirt of anyone_. **You** can _hear_ how this is not good for **you**. Meanwhile, **you** sually speaking, your middling mean person is just mean enough to lard his mouth with a **you** nilateral diet of **you** s. I mean, **you** have to admit: **you** just _know_ a mean portrait of middle America when **you** see one—I mean **you** , **** don't **you**? And **you** must always tell me, **you** so meanly snapped, 'Glossy' or 'Matte.' "

**Trouble! Double reference for a pronoun**

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** **

****

_"My Little Chickadee, am I seeing double?" "Yes,_ ** _Double-U. C_** _., double you see."_

"I once stumbled across the sentence, _When a mother has a daughter, **she** can never be certain **she** is safe_, and thought I was seeing double then too." "You were," a competing dipsomniac piped up. "You shtumbled over a shingle shentenshe _and_ a double ref'rensh to the pronoun **_she_** _._ " "Sho I now shee—but look here, my good bottle sucker, I won't have you having me talk like you. Yes, I see the double reference now as clear as gin and vermouth—make that a double: **_she_** has two references, _mother_ and _daughter_."

24. Old Double-U. C. Fields Was Seeing Double

Old Double-U. C. Fields liked his martinis.

Disappearing like one of Houdini's

Helpers, each went down his throat right slick;

And he, of course, did not reveal the trick

Of how he did it, lest the magic spell go.

" _I_ know that trick—quick hoisht of the elbow

[Some drunk], though no shingle time have I

Onsh sheen it move—it'sh quicker than the eye!"

"The Great Man" never broke the magic bubble,

Letting on, each time, he'd had a _double_.

Each that struck his stomach, so put down,

Made Double-U. C. Fields an ab-struck noun.

So he, to cover his doublicity,

Employed an agent of pub-licit-"Tea!"

Who, when the Great Man's nose was red and thick

From drink, was sworn to not reveal the trick,

But "Just refer to me as Great—don't utter

' _Doubles_ put him face down in the gutter.'

Recommend me— _once_ —a drunken-known noun.

**_Trouble!_ Double reference for a prone noun** _._ "

One morning, well fortified with doubles, Double-U[nderweather]. C. Fields, stumblebum emeritus, stumbled across a sentence: _When a mother has a daughter, **she** can never be certain **she** is safe._ Said the Great Man to a competing dipsomaniac: "Did I just stumble over a sentence?" "You shertainly did." "Thank God! For a minute there I thought I was seeing double." "You were." "Is that fluent doubletalk or just your fluid-powered native tongue you're speaking?" "Both. You shtumbled over a shingle shentenshe _and_ a double ref'rensh to the pronoun **_she_** _._ " "Sho I now shee—but look here, my good tosspot, I won't have you having me talk like you. Yes, I see the double reference now as clear as gin and vermouth—make that a double: **_she_** has no less than two good references, _mother_ and _daughter_. That's two more than I got in all my double life. But rather than ambiguity, a sentence wants fluidity—make that a double. If I had stumbled over _. . . **she** can never be certain her daughter is safe_ or _. . . the latter can never be certain her mother is safe,_ we wouldn't be having this oral one-on-one—make them both doubles. But thanks to you, my good swillbelly, in the great posterity to come, whenever I stumble across some stray potsherd of referentially ambiguous pronominal detritus as _Bacchus the winebibber told Winecliff the oenophilist that **he** should stop tippling, _I'll know I'm truly seeing double—make that a double reference. But thank heaven I was enough of a double-visionary to see to stumbling across that _mother_ with _daughter_ before **_she_** was too doubled up with the ravages of advanced chronology to be worth stumbling across. Look here, my good bottle sucker, did I just stumble across a double on tundra?" "You shertainly did." "Thank God! For a moment there I was afraid you'd missed that one—make that a double entender."

7. Case of Pronouns

_I never forget a face, but in your case I'll make an exception._

—Groucho Marx

**It took a Whole Case, But He Got Three Up**

"Oh, I'm a __ Case, all right, you bet—a gem—

And _two more_ too; that's right, __ I'm __ three __ of them.

When I was young I tried for three whole months

To be all three me Cases—all at once.

The most I ever got to be was one

At one time—leaving me two-thirds undone!

The parts of speech, for each two that I wasn't,

Laughed: 'Poor Case—he's cheaper by the doesn't!'

God, embarrassed? My Case was so red

I tried my hands at juggling balls instead.

"I bought three balls and vowed, right then and there,

To get—at once—all three balls in the air.

I called __ the one Possessive, one ** __** Subjective,

ONE __ Objective: to be three-perfective.

Dropping each so often that I tossed

Up, all three balls I very quickly lost.

Each trio lost, I'd toss up yet three more,

Though I'd bought but _three_ from The Juggling Store.

Lost hundreds—but I got three up with grace

At once. How so? I'd bought them by the case."

Well now it's something to keep three balls up in the air all at once, isn't it, class? But what if I were to tell you that before we're done—if you _pay attention_ —you are all going to keep up a dazzling aerial ballet—with no less than _thirty-one_ things that you often see around:

** **

****

Yes, you gasp for the wonder, the challenge of it: _thirty-one_ pronouns in three cases. How thrilling to contemplate what master jugglers you are going to be! Oh, but no few of them are **bold** coming to table with their faces so **black** , aren't they? _So_ **black** one could easily mistake them for a certain class of _children—_ of whom one thinks quite the **darkest** of thoughts.

Yet, as **black** as these possessive-case blackguards are, is there not _something_ in their makeup of socially redeeming value? Will no one go to bat for them? Wait! Someone's stepping up to the plate right now. Why, it's mighty Casey, he of the notorious _Mudville Nine_ , __ and a case all by himself, coming to school with a mighty wet acreage upon him, earning him a mighty **black** mark in hygiene. Can you not, Sir Wet-Soil, put in a good word for them? inform us that they are, in deed, better than appearances? that, they, like Al Jolson, are appearing in **blackface** —oh, not, like Al, to entertain, but to show us that they are not truly possessive __ pronouns but rather—yes, thank you, Casey, possessive __**adjectives**? I knew you wouldn't strike out, dear—or _wash_ out, either.

Even so, we can't discriminate against them on the basis of color, can we? No. And that means, if you are to be phenomenal pronominal jugglers, you must integrate these eight possessive adjectives (easily mastered by Omnibussing) with all twenty-three personal pronouns, and keep the lot whirling around up in that yawning space of yours—without mixing up their cases. Doubtless you will err time and time again—and be bawled out as many—until you have become "adepts" of the art. Oh, but what won't be your pride—and esteem in the eyes of the world—for having almost mastered the art of juggling.

Yes, _almost_ , for in order to be a true master you must also—well, come, Case-Annedra, tell us what else must be got whirling around in that limitless space. _Yes_ , __ exactly! To be an absolute master, you need to get _all the other_ pronouns, in their manifold cases—the _demonstrative_ , _interrogative_ , _reciprocal_ , _intensive/reflexive, indefinite_ , and _relative_ (and who does not have an indefinite number of relatives?)—all whirling around that cerebral vacuum like so many asteroids.

Now then, there are but two tried and true methods by which an apprentice juggler can learn by heart and, in every case, keep the scores of pronouns, and the eight possessive adjectives, up in the air of supreme confidence, and so become a master juggler: first, stare at them continuously, without blinking, for years on end, à la Humpty Dumpty, until your little exasperated memory says, 'All right, all _right_ —I'll _remember_!'; and second, gaze raptly upon a single delightful performance by our celebrity troupe, and remember always

**The Novel Rules of Case of Pronouns**

**J. Paul Get-He**

Use the possessive case of pronouns to show ownership

**Carmen Electra**

In a comparison, a pronoun is nominative if it's the subject of a stated/understood verb

**Jules Verb-Be**

The pronoun following any part of the verb be, and referring to the subject, is in the nominative case

**Prince Hamlet**

The objective complement of the infinitive to be is in the objective case when the subject of the infinitive is expressed

**Dr. Seuss, Gerund McBoing Boing**

The object of an infinitive, gerund, or participle is in the objective case

**President Gerund Ford**

Pronouns and nouns before gerunds call for the possessive case

**Quincy, M. E.**

An appositive must be in the same case as the noun or pronoun that it identifies or explains

**Inspector Clue-So**

The subject of an infinitive is in the objective case

**Dr. Albert Schweitzer**

The subject of the verb is in the nominative case

**Indira Gandhi**

The indirect object is in the objective case

**Julia Child**

The object of a verb or a preposition is in the objective case

**Antony and Cleopatra**

Pronouns in the possessive case differ depending on whether or not the possessed

object follows the pronoun

**Cal Worthington and his dog Spot**

_Who_ and _whoever_ are used as subjects of verbs and predicate pronouns; _whom_ and _whomever_ are used as objects of verbs and prepositions

**Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus**

An elliptical clause of comparison preceded by _than_ or _as_ requires the case called

for by the expanded comparison

**Who (Leo ingratias)**

When _who_ introduces a subordinate clause, its case hinges on its function in that clause

****

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Verbs and Verbals**

**the Sheik of Araby**

Present participles, as verbals, take the objective case

**Apostrophes**

**Jock Shy-rac, Dubya Bush, Tommy Franks**

Use an apostrophe to form the possessive case of a plural noun ending in _s_

**Narcissus Appos, Sophie**

Never use an apostrophe in forming the plural of nouns **** and the possessive case of personal and relative pronouns

**Use the possessive case of pronouns to show ownership**

****

** **

****

**_J. Paul Get-He_** _: " **My** five beautiful oil gushers are mine. **Your** latest oily complexions are yours to gush about, even though all four are mine. I can't think what possessed you, besides me, to think they are yours. _

" **M** **y** , a possessive adjective, comes _before_ the thing possessed; **mine** , a **** possessive pronoun, comes after it. Take **my** ownerous oration _You're all **my** possessions—mine!_ **_My_** desperately needs to possess _possessions_ or some other noun in **my** possession in order to validate its existence, not being able to stand on its own. I could not say to myself, "Here is **my**." I would think " **My** _what_?" But mine can stand alone. I can say to myself, 'Here is mine,' and I will understand from the context what is so dearly in **my** possession . . ."

25. He Owned They Were in the Possessive Case

"That J. Paul Get-He," **his** ex-owned impugn,

"Was _the_ most damed possessive oil tycoon:

He'd get, then tell each **'My,** **my, _my_!'** apparel,

'I _own_ you—you're mine _—_ hock, stock, and barrel!'

Never did you hear J. Paul assign

An **our** to anything—just **my** __ or __ mine.

First-person ownerous possessives oozed

Like oil from him, and he, because he used

So many up per each oil-gotten face,

Bought **his** possessive pronouns—by the case."

J. Paul, on hearing this, was very grave,

Rolled over in it, croaking, "Damn it! they've

Put **their** possessive spin on it—hear mine:

I did possess **their** each curvaceous line;

And did, in fact, buy all of **my** possessive

Pronouns by the case—and used excessive

**My** s and mines to show each well-owned face

That I was hip: they're _cheaper_ by the case.

This 'keep her' knew: **Use the possessive** (grip-

tight) **case of pronouns to show owner's hip**.

"The first thing I learned in life," J Paul sighed gravely, "is that the possessive pronouns are mine, yours, his, hers, ours, yours, theirs. And the second thing I learned is that the possessive adjectives are **my** , **your** , **his** , **her** , **its** , **our** , **your** , **their** , **whose**. _That_ got **my** attention. But, lucky for me, _That_ didn't want it and gave it right back, once more making **my** attention mine. **** A good thing it did, too, because I needed it to take full possession of this: **possessive adjectives** come _before_ the thing possessed; possessive pronouns come after it _._ Take that ownerous phrase of mine ****_making **my** attention mine._ **_My_** is an adjective modifying _attention_. It desperately needs to possess _attention_ or some other noun in **my** possession in order to validate its existence, being wholly incapable of standing on its own. Look, I could not say to myself, "Here is **my**." I would think " **My** _what_?" But mine, **** which comes after _attention_ , __ can stand alone. I can say to myself, "Here is mine," and I will immediately understand from the context what is so dearly in **my** possession. And fortunate it is indeed that I am in full possession of **my** faculties, because now I can freely own that **my/your/his/her/its/our/your/their/whose** time has come; and as ownerously own that mine/yours/his/hers/ours/yours/theirs **** is about to come. Yes, being filthy rich is **its** own reward—which is well since that reward can _never_ be its." "J. P. also noticed," his pretty rich young widow added, "that **his** possessive adjective is the same possessive pronoun that is __ his. He saw that in **** buying **his** possessive pronouns by the case, in which case every one was his, he had things both ways. Possessing pretty much every pretty thing worth possessing, he looked at each and said, ' **My, my,** _mine_!' Funny, that's what I __ now say. J. Paul forgot the Bible's precious exception: **_Mine_** _heir shall inherit the worth._ "

**In a comparison, a pronoun is nominative if it's the subject of a stated/understood verb**

****

** **

****

**_Carmen Electra_** _Electrafies the Electrate with her nomination._

" **Nobody** is more nominative _than_ **me** in being elected noun gorgeous. And nobody is as half right! **Nobody** , the subject of is, so I'm told, is in the nominative case; **me** , though, I am scolded, is wrongly the object of the conjunction _than_ , __ instead of being **I** , **** the subject of the understood verb am. If I elect to say ' **nobody** is more nominative _than_ **me** ,' I get royally chewed out; if I elect to say ' **nobody** is more nominative _than_ **I** , I get raked over the 'hot' coals. Woe is me! Nobody is as half right/half wrong as **me** , **I (am)** — _Ai me!_ "

26. No Pro-Noun Is As Half Right As Her/She

Electra, Carmen, girl-perfected pro-noun

Getting she herself elected—whoa! _—_ noun

_Gorgeous!_ thought, "If I myself kiss babies,

Press the flesh, no ifs, ands, buts, or maybes,

I'll bet I myself, a campaign-known noun,

Could get I myself elected pro-noun

'It' girl—and not just my catch-your-eye self—

But me known reflexively as _my_ self.

I'm so pro-myself that all can see:

If any is a pro-noun 'It' is me.

"I am, of course, my favorite subject who

Desires I get myself elected to

Some cushy public office where I could

Sit my re-nouned swell toffis. Understood

Is this: my stated verb to get elected.

Men all nominate me 'Girl perfected

— _It!_ ' when they compare me to babe foe-nouns,

Since **In a comparison a pro-noun's**

**Nominative if 'It' is** (a good verb)

**Subject of a stated/understood verb** _._

"And **nobody** is more nominative _than_ **me**!" Carmen emphatically stated at her latest wolf-whistle stop. "And nobody is as half right: **nobody** , the subject of is, I'm told, is in the nominative case; **me** , though, is incorrectly the object of the conjunction _than_ , __ instead of being **I** , **** the subject of the understood verb am. Woe is me!" she cried, Electrafying the Electrate. "I'm 'am'ed if I do, and damned if I don't! I'm stuck between 'I rock!' and a hard case. If I elect to say ' **nobody** is more nominative _than_ **me** ,' the contrarians in Camp Conjunction chew me out for using **me** as if _than_ were acting as a preposition, and **me** were its direct object. And if I say ' **nobody** is more nominative than **I** (am, understood),' those in Camp Preposition rake me over the coals for using **I** as if _than_ were acting as a conjunction, and **I** were the subject of the clause it introduces, **I** (am). Thus **nobody** is as hopelessly half right _as_ **—Ai me!** They're at each other's throats again: 'Fools!' the Cons shout, 'Can't you see that _as_ is acting as a conjunction?' 'Ignorant louts!' the Preppies hotly counter, 'Can't you see that _as_ is acting as a preposition? As further proof, we've got four hundred years—and Shakespeare as precedent—on our side.' **Ai me!** is right. (Who knew Shakespeare was president?) I wish some judge would rule—and make it understood once and for all—whether _than, as,_ and their ilk, whatever an ilk is, are acting as prepositions, in which case **me** , the object of a preposition, would be correct; or acting as conjunctions, in which case **I** , the subject of the stated or understood verb, would be the unimpeach of a choice. Woe is **me**! Or Woe am **I**!? **Ai me!** **Nobody** is as woeful _as_ **the two of us well put together**. (Sigh) at least we all agree that few twothsomes are as well put together _as_ **me** ** I** (am) Carmen Electra. If **I** am wrong, may God elect **me** dead."

**The pronoun following any part of the verb _be_ , and referring to the subject, is in the nominative case**

****

** **

****

_Five weeks in a hot-air be-loon,_ ** _Jules Verb-Be_** _has a few choice be-words for the Nobel Prize Committee:_

" _He_ in the nominative case was **I** , predicate nominative Jules Verb-Be. And what a novel case it was! I saw that, with a little hacking, it would make the perfect gondola for a lighter-than-air balloon. All I needed was so much hot air to bear it aloft. As serendipity would have it, at that very moment _five_ gasbags were hot on my case, stringing the line that I was a hack sci-fi writer, unworthy of the Nobel Prize. Yes, a prize _lot_ were **they** , the Nobel Prize Committee. So full of it were they that I was swiftly borne aloft . . ."

27. No Prone Noun in the Nominative Case

"The subject who's in question in this case

Is **** Jules Verb-Be. Question: should we place—"

" **His** name in nomination as a writer

Worthy of our 'Prize- _possessive_ ' __ cite, or—"

"Whether, since selecting's so subjective,

Snobs, we shouldn't, once more, be _objective_ —"

"On the grounds that science fiction is

Hack writing, thus no Nobel Prize be his—"

"Yes, let's put **him** in his hack writer place,

Toss prizeless **him** , in the _objective_ case."

So schemed the Nobel Prize Committee five,

A less-than-noble noun prone to deprive

Him of the literary prize. So they

Came after Verb-Be, prone to point and say,

"The _hack_ to fall low in our Nobel eyes

Is **he** , Verb-Be—no nominee for prize

—Wait! _nominee_ is **he**  (we)

**That 'fall low's any part of the Verb-Be,**

**And points to** —curse! **he** 's poised for Nobel grace!—

**The subject's in the _nominative_ case**."

"Yes, _he_ in the nominative case was **I** , predicate nominative Jules Verb-Be. And what a novel case it was! I saw that, with a little hacking, it would make the perfect gondola for a lighter-than-air balloon. All I needed was so much hot air to bear it aloft. As serendipity would have it, at that very moment _five_ gasbags were hot on my case, stringing the line that I was a hack sci-fi writer, thus unworthy of the Nobel Prize. Oh, yes, a prize _lot_ were **they** , the Nobel Prize Committee, who made a point of stringing the line to my case—and making it fast. So full of it were they that I, in all my inflections (am, is, are, was, were, be, being, been), was swiftly borne aloft and swept across the heart of Africa, I making a most novel adventure of it: 'Five Weeks in a Balloon,' the _aeronaut_ nominee for Nobel Prize being **I**. This so precipitously sunk the gasbags' spirits that, coming to earth, I was all at sea! Thinking fast, I hastily hacked the gasbags into ballast tanks aboard my craft, submarine _Nautilus_ , __ and, beneath the Seven Seas, made a fantastically novel adventure of it: 'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Seas,' the _aquanaut_ deservedly nominated for the glorious Nobel Prize being **I**. This plummeted the gasbags' spirits to the depths. As we crashed through the sea floor into a vast cavern, I gave orders to abandon ship via the torpedo tubes. Leaving the _Nautilus_ stuck in the hole, I led us on the most phantasmically novel adventure yet: 'Journey to the Center of the Earth'; and the _terranaut nominee_ for Nobel Prize __ was **I**. The gasbags could sink no lower. And as the atmosphere was hellishly sulphurous; and given that I had been thrice nominated for, but was never _once_ awarded the Nobel Prize, I felt the gasbags were in their native element, and I returned to earth via Krakatoa to top-blowing acclaim. And the DAMNED _Nobel Prize Committee_ were **they**.

**The objective complement of the infinitive _to be_ is in the objective case when the subject of the infinitive is expressed**

****

** **

****

**_Prince Hamlet_** _has a splitting headache._

"All right, Verb-Be, you got your rule in ahead of me; now it's my turn to rule the day, and we'll see how history sees fit to be judging us." "Sotobeit, Hamlet." "Okay, 1) _Imagine my surprise when I found you were **he**_ ( _were_ is not the infinitive, thus **nominative** case **_he_** is called for); 2) _Imagine my surprise when I found you to be **him**_ ( ** _him_** is the object of the infinitive _to be_ and objective complement of the expressed subject _you_ , __ the subject of the infinitive, thus **objective** case **_him_** is called for . . ."

28. He Paid Himself Objective Compliment

God, aptly named was Hamlet—what a ham!

His grave To be soliloquy the damn

Death question begged __ (Hmmm, kill myself . . . or not?)

So long, death's contemplation spawned this thought:

"Infinity is not, as thought to be,

So damned infinitive as to _not_ be!

Oh, Hamlet—split infinitive— _objection!_

Thought, in any case, for much reflection;

_Princely_ thought; a thought so eloquent

It begs I pay myself a compliment:

"Sage Hamlet, you are some philosophizer:

To be _not_ dead shows you to be wiser

Than to be infinitively dead;

That shows that you were using the old head.

You thought about the subject, suicide,

Objected, saw _—'I'll be God- damned, self-died!'—_

That **The objective compliment** (oh please,

Feel free) **of the infinitive _to be_ 's**

**In the objective case when** , death-obsessed,

**The subject of the infinitive's expressed** _._ "

Hamlet was contemplative: "To be self-complimentary or not to be self-complimentary: that is not the question at all. _Of course_ I should be. I was smart not to kill myself, and even smarter to have seen, if I may use the same con-template, that to be **me** or not to be **me** is not the question either. That question has just been answered—by **me**. _Of course_ it is to be **me**. **** But hold your _Of course_ s _,_ Hamlet. Is there not something horribly rotten in the state of Denmark? But one rule back Jules Verb-Be, the hack science fiction writer, somehow unaccountably came _before_ **me** in his story, and ruled: _The pronoun following any part of the verb be, and pointing (referring) to the subject, is in the **nominative** case._ Ah, I see! This chrono-illogical Verb-Be ruled over me, a _prince_ , so that I might now suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous forgetting: forgetting it in order to learn _The objective complement of_ _THE INFINITIVE to be is in the **objective** case __WHEN THE SUBJECT OF THE INFINITIVE IS EXPRESSED._ Ay, there's the rub-a- _doub-doub!_ _Two_ conditions must prevail: 1) the infinitive form to be; and 2) the subject of the infinitive is expressed. All right, Verb-Be, you got your iron rule in ahead of me, and now it's my turn to rule the day. At the end of the day we'll see how history sees fit to be judging of us." "Sotobeit, Hamlet." "Okay, here goes: 1) _Imagine my surprise when I found you were **he**_ ( _were_ is not the infinitive, thus **nominative** case **_he_** is called for); 2) _Imagine my surprise when I found you to be **him**_ ( ** _him_** is the object of the infinitive _to be_ and objective complement of the expressed subject _you_ , __ the subject of the infinitive, consequently **objective** case **_him_** is called for). The only real question now, Verb-Be, is whether this anachronistic trend, your chrono-illogically coming _before_ me in history, is to be or is _NOT_ to be continued."

**The object of an infinitive, gerund, or participle is in the objective case**

****

** **

****

_Thanks to Gerund, oar-paticip-pal,_ ** _Dr. Seuss_** _, rather than a delectable fin, is in the strongly objective case._

"Gerund, rowing **me** into shore is what I want _you_ to do—now— **me** , the starving object of the gerund rowing. To have eaten **him** or **her** was my heart's desire, **him/her** the _failed_ object of the perfect infinitive to have eaten. I should dearly have loved to have caught _two_ fish and, having devoured **them** , been fed up to my gills—instead of being plain _fed up_ , **them** , the object of the perfect participle having devoured. Having eluded **me** , **me** is the **** perfectly disgruntled _'Object!'_ of the perfect participle having eluded . . ."

29. The Dr.'s in: in the _Object!_ ive Case

In having one fin- _icky_ appetite,

He, Dr. Seuss, come lunchtime, craved a bite

To eat and, being infinitely skinny,

He desired to eat of something _finny_.

He to Gerund, his McBoing Boing friend,

Said, "Catching object fin's my fishing end;

But your LOUD verbal-nouning way of 'speaking'

Is fish-scaring _' Boom!'_ing, _' Phark!'_ing, _' Screak!'_ing;

Yet you can participate and go

A-fishing, Gerund; just _shut up_ —and row."

Starved, Dr. Seuss had as his lunch objective

Quite the latest "fin-eat-of" delective.

He instructed Gerund in his oaring:

" _Hush up now_ —none of your _' Rhaak!'_ing, _' Splorrh!'_ing

_—Shhh!_ I'll soon have in my object case

The latest 'in' fin in this finny place."

But Gerund's _" Splonk!"_ scared off the fin—no shove-in.

Seuss got _not_ to crow, " **The object of 'in'-**

**fin-eat-of, oar-Gerund, particip-pal,**

**Is in the _objective_ case** **—** LOUD lip-pal!"

"That does it, Gerund— _finis!_ " Theodor Seuss Geisel, in the guise of Dr. Seuss, fumed. "Our friendship is at the most _finis_ of ends—but that doesn't mean, though I didn't even catch the first installment of _One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish,_ that I'm _finis_ hed chewing _you_ out! How I hungered after telling you, _'The object of an infinitive, gerund, or participle is in the objective case!'_ —and by Yertle the Turtle I'm going to! In the mean time—I wish it were _meal_ time—rowing **me** into shore is what I want _you_ to do, Gerund—now. Speaking of gerunds, **me** is the starving object of the gerund rowing. I needn't remind you, but I _shall_ , that to have eaten **him** or **her** (I never was good at telling a fish's gender) was my heart's desire. What I can tell you is that **him/her** is the _failed_ object of the perfect infinitive to have eaten. All I've gotten to eat are my words. I should dearly have loved to have caught _two_ fish, or fishes—suit your LOUD! self as to the uncaught plural—and, having devoured **them** , been fed up to my gills—instead of being just plain _fed up_. **Them** , of course, is the object of the perfect participle having devoured. What's so perfect about it? This perfectly theor _eat_ ical gustatory satisfaction, having so perfectly eluded **me** , goes to further prove that **me** is the perfectly disgruntled object of the perfect participle having eluded. And here's something else, Gerund— ** _I_** am too! Now I know why I never took you fishing before: I had enough sense _then_ to know you'd soon be _' SPLONK!'ing_ **me** into further starvation, **me** being the ravenous 'Object!' of the fish-scaring gerund _'SPLONK!'ing._ In future I shall have the good sense to not invite **you** , **you** being the object of the foolishly not-chosen split infinitive to not invite, in which case **I** will be the fully happy _split_ object of the distant _un_ present particip-pal Gerund."

**Pronouns and nouns before gerunds call for the possessive case**

****

** **

****

**_President Gerund Ford_** _: " **My** falling on my First Butt keeps the Secret Service on my toes. _

"But . . . But . . . could you give me a precedental example of each in case the Sultan of Buttswannalandthere asks. I'd hate to slip up in front of him and be the First Butt of Jokes." "Surely, Mr. President: _Finding **him** on his First Butt_ _is all in a day's work._ (The gerund _Finding_ is _followed_ by the **objective** case pronoun **_him_**.) _We all laugh behind the stumblebum's backside at **his** , **Gerund's** , falling on his First Wazoo._ (The gerund _falling_ is _preceded_ by the pronoun **_his_** and the noun **_Gerund's_** , both in the possessive case.)"

30. One Gerund, One Immense Possessive Case

_BOOM!_ President Ford (Gerund Verbal Noun),

Was klutz renowned for all **his** falling down:

**His** presidential taking of his pratfalls

Well assured **his** earning hooting catcalls;

**His** persistent landing on his butt;

**His** fostering of scoffing scuttlebutt;

**His** falling on his backside anatomics;

**His** providing fodder for the comics,

All due to **his** acting like a putz,

**His** being but a presidential klutz.

He had so many **his** 's, and **his** , **Gerund's** ,

Lot (possessing presidential errands

In all lands) resulted in **his** needing

One BIG CASE to suit **his** far exceeding

The **his** carry-on for Air Force One

( **His** landing on each Presidential bun

In every land required **his** having **his** 's

In abundance for **his** falling bizzes):

Samsonite? No, **Pronouns, nouns** [" _More_ space!"]

**Pre-Gerunds call for the _possessive_ case**.

Whenever President Gerund Ford landed on his First Butt, secret service agents rushed to help him up. But whenever he fell on his first "But . . ." they saw "He's only raising an objection or is about to ask a question," and let him scramble to his feet as best he could. "But . . . But didn't Dr. Seuss and Gerund McBoom! Boom! just brief me that _The object of a Gerund must be in the **objective** case_?" he clumsily let spill on spilling out of Air Force One, his standard method of deplaning. "That's right, Mr. President; but that is the _object_ of a Gerund (besides falling on its First Butt). _The noun or pro-noun BEFORE a Gerund requires the **possessive** case._" "Oh, thank havings," Gerund let slip, tumbling out after it. "For a moment there I thought I'd packed the wrong case. But . . . But . . ." "Yes, Mr. President?" "I know the difference between falling on my butt and my 'but . . . ,' but could you give me an example of each in case the Sultan of Buttswannalandthere asks. I'd hate to slip up in front of him and be the First Butt of Jokes." "Surely, Mr. President: _Finding **him** on his First Butt_ _is all in a day's work._ (The gerund _Finding_ is _followed_ by the **objective** case pronoun **_him_**.) _We all laugh behind the stumblebum's backside at **his** , **Gerund's** , falling on his First Wazoo._ (The gerund _falling_ is _preceded_ by the pronoun **_his_** and the noun **_Gerund's_** , both in the possessive case.)" "Oh, I get it. Let me try but one, or is that 'Butt One'? _It's no secret that secret service agents all see **my** sitting on my butt._" "Uh, no, Mr. President. You're not in possession of a gerund much less your faculties; you have possession, wrongly, of _sitting_ , a participle acting as an adjective modifying **_me_** (not **_my_** ), object of the verb _see._ " "But . . . But . . ." "Yes, Mr. President?" "You mean I have . . . have landed on my First Butt _again_?" "Afraid so, Mr. President; both 'have's."

**An appositive must be in the same case as the noun or pronoun that it identifies or explains**

****

** **

****

**_Quincy, M. E._** ** __**_makes A-positive I.D.—in Courtroom B._

"What I, **Quincy,** **M. E.** , learned is that **M. E.** stands for medical examiner, and **Quincy,** **M. E.** is an appositive (a word or phrase that refers to the same person or thing), so must be in the same case. I is the subject of the foregoing sentence, so **Quincy ,** **M. E.** must also be in the subjective case. ME, I am appositive, but am I a positive **M. E.**? _YES,_ I'm positive that I, **Quincy** , **M. E.** —all three of us—are subjectively steamed at having to come in on a _spoiled_ holiday to perform an objective—fat chance!—autopsy on **** you. . . ."

31. A-positive I.D.—in Courtroom B

"The murder victim's blood, A-positive,

Ran out of him, and thus was causative

Of death—a crying shame! A real pro noun

Was he so prone to dying so, _face down._

His blood ran down, and thus his face was dressed

In blood, so he was looking not his best.

Still, I could make A-positive I.D.:

The M. E. in me saw that it was he,

No doubt. Yes, I would recognize his face,

Its bloodstained lifelessness, in _any_ case."

So Quincy swore ("it" coroner was he)

Upon the witness stand—in courtroom _B_!

Incredulous, B jurors stared wide-eyed

In this B-negative-type homicide

Case (bloodless; rich dame, arsenic in tea).

What Quincy's A-type courtroom-B I.D.

Taught him was: **An A-positive must be**

(Judged on its face) **in the _same_ case as the**

**Prone noun or noun** (pro whose type-A blood drains)

**That "it" identifies or "it" explains**.

What Quincy, **M. E.** , learned—apart from that **M. E.** stands for medical examiner, and that he was testifying in the wrong courtroom, wrong case—is that **M. E.** is an appositive (a word or phrase that refers to the same person or thing) of Quincy, and must be in the same case. Since Quincy is the subject of the foregoing sentence, **M. E.** must also be in the same subjective (nominative) case. "ME, I am quite appositive," Quincy muttered, "but am I a positive **M. E.**? Better perform three autopsies to make sure: 1) _The undertaker wants the lot of you, **him** , **her** , **** and **you** , as soon as I'm done_ ( ** _him_** _, **her** , **you**_ are in apposition with the object _the lot of you ,_ thus in the same objective case); 2) _We , **he** , **she** , **you** , and **I** , are the only ones in the morgue _( ** _he_** _, **she** , **you** , and **I**_ are in apposition with the subject _We_ , thus in the same subjective case); 3) _We just want you to know that you, **the** **latest murder victim** , are responsible for us, **Quincy** , **M. E.** , **** and **me** , **** having to be here on a holiday_ ( ** _the_** _**latest murder victim**_ is in apposition with the subject _you_. But who gives a cold damn! You're _dead._ What concerns **_me_** , _**Quincy** ,_ **_M. E._** is being in apposition with _us_ , **the poor unfortunate slobs** **placed in apposition—** a position we all of us _object_ to in the strongest possible terms, for having to come in on a _spoiled_ holiday to perform an _objective_ —fat chance!—autopsy on **_you_** _._ And we couldn't object more strongly to being in apposition with _us_ ). All because you, **the latest murder victim-cum-statistic** , were so inconsiderate as to get your unobjecting subjective self offed on a holiday—without ever giving _one_ thought to the poor objective three of us having to come to work on National Victims' Rights Day, instead of being home with our loved ones where you, **the last thing on our minds** , are bloody well subject to being in apposition to stone-cold dead and forgotten!"

**The subject of an infinitive is in the objective case**

****

** **

****

**_Inspector Clue-So_** _: "The case is cavered with blid stens. It's ubvious the victim was paisoned."_

_"The victim's wife ixpicted **me** to sulve the case._ (It was beold of **_me_** , but someone had to tell her: **_me_** is the sibject of the anfanitive _to sulve_ and is in the blid-stenned ubjective case, which is very stringe since the victim was paisoned.) _No one saw **him, the mairderer** , [to]make his gataway. Ubviously his pairpose was to eved respansibility and [to] let **the victim's wife** and **me** dab up all her paisoned husband's blid._ A very bliddy case of dabble humicide: the cold-blidded mairderer had done away with _to —twaice_ . . ."

32. Inspector Clue-So Sulves a Beffling Case

Inspector Clue-So loved to play at Clue

True to his fashion: bumbling his way through.

He'd introduce himself with a "Helleo,"

And ask the grieving, "Parlez-vous Clue-Seo?

I'm hir to sulve, bifore the budy's chill,

The case of the anfanitive TO KILL;

To fend the ubject that's drawn its last brith,

And sibject that's sibjected it—to dith.

Seo neow, bifore the budy's culd as ace,

Give me the beones, and lit me reole the dace."

He rolled the "dace" and moved into a "reum"

Wherein (he sniffed), "A tress of Franch parfeume.

I _see_ ," he said, "though I see no remens,

A rether large case—cavered with blid stens!

Seo I concleude the budy's blid did eooze;

The calpret has left me some talltale cleues.

The ubject's turned the tables, if yeou will,

Upan the _sibject_ —weth the vairb TO KILL.

**The sibject of an** [triumph on his face]

**Anfanitive's in the _ubjective_ case**."

When Inspector Clue-So looked in the "blid-stenned" case he saw the murder victim, the "sibject" of his investigation, was in the "sibjective case," and yet he found **him** to be in the "ubjective case," making it a very "beffling case." Nonetheless, he announced with a well-satisfied air, "In iny case, I have neow sulved the case. **Him** , whom I feound to be in the ubjective case, and who is neow quite unacceountably in the _ipper_ case, is the sibject of the anfanitive to be, and seo is neturally back to being in the ubjective case. I have sulved many cases in which the sibject of the anfanticide was feound to be in the under-taker's case, but in iny case they were smuller, less beffling cases than the fullowing:

_The victim's wife ixpicted **me** to sulve the case._ (It was beold of **_me_** , but someone had to tell her the neuws: **_me_** is the sibject of the anfanitive _to sulve_ and is in the blid-stenned ubjective case, which is very stringe since the victim was paisoned.)

_No one saw **him, the mairderer** , [to] make his gataway. It was ubvious his pairpose was to eved respansibility and [to] let **the victim's wife** and **me** dab up all her paisoned husband's blid._ (This was a very bliddy case of dabble humicide. The mairderer had very cold-bliddedly done away with _to —_not just once but _twaice._ First, he gat rid of the anderstood _to_ which came betwin **_the mairderer_** and the anfanitive vairb _ make._ Then he gat rid of the iqually anderstood _to_ betwin the co-airdinating conjunction _and_ and the anfanitive vairb _let_ —living behand _two_ bare-nekked anfanitives, making it the bliddiest case I ever had to sulve, ixcipt for the case in which the ergan grander cold-bliddedly butchered a tune by Peganini, then had his hanchman hold out his lettle tan cup for my donation for neo other raison than to have **him** [to] make a bliddy minkey out of me.)"

**The subject of the verb is in the nominative case**

****

** **

****

_Reflecting on his missing volunteers,_ ** _Dr. Albert Schweitzer_** _has a glimmer of suspicion._

"The guiding principle of PRESEOS, the Pronominal Right-to-life (Elementary) School for the Education of Savages is that life is just that, PRESEOS, and must be prolonged if my pronominal volunteers are to live out their lives as the subjects of verbs. If not, **he** , **she** , **they** — **YOU** —will not be able to form such pronominally satisfying sentences as:   
_For breakfast this morning Ungi-Bungi and **I** porked out on volunteer au Schweitzer.  
Strict **** nominatarians, **we** Nomis boast satisfyingly distended bellies_. . . ."

33. His Help Was in the Nominative Case

Then Dr. Albert Schweitzer saw the light:

_Become a doctor, help the native plight_

_In Africa_ ; and where that plight was rife

It came to him [flash!]— _"Reverence for life."_

Eureka! In that flash he knew that he

Had just expressed his life's philosophy.

So in French Congolese Lambaréné

He opened up (his life's work underway),

Within a _chicken coop_ , a French _clinique_

For ailing natives ailing in physique.

One tribe, the Nomis, Dr. Schweitzer noted,

Were, each native, consummately bloated:

Each one's stomach stretched so tight he braced

To see each split for all that it encased.

However, he was first a missionary,

And his latest missing voluntary

Helper was the subject of—his eyes went

W—i—d—e! He saw _to cannibalize_ [cries] meant

—God  [his face

Went white] **is in the _Nomi-native_ case**!

Reached for comment in the jungle, Dr. Schweitzer volunteered: "My life philosophy is 'reverence for life.' Thus I was horrified to see that the lives of my nominative pronouns, **I** , **we** , **you** , **he** , **she** , and **they** , **** that selflessly stood in for my volunteers, rather than being prolonged, were being pronouncedly _shortened_. Instead of being allowed to live out their lives as the subjects of _many_ verbs, they were systematically being subjected to one verb only: to cannibalize; moreover, the organized system the Nomis were employing was that commonly modified by the adjective _digestive_. __ This dietary practice was making short work of the subjects in question/digestion; but while prolific, it was anything but pro-life. __ 'Eureka!' I cried. 'Education!' I quickly got all my my pronominal volunteers to safety; then, getting all the Nomis into a group, I opened up the first Pronominal Right-to-life (Elementary) School for the Education of Savages. 'The guiding principle of PRESEOS,' I explained to the inaugural class in lesson one, 'is that life, principally that of pronouns, is just that, PRESEOS, and must be prolonged if the subject pronouns are to live to be the subjects of verbs. If not, in very short order **he** , **she** , **they** —commonly known as **YOU** —will not be able to form such pronominally nominative, satisfying sentences as:

_For breakfast this morning Ungi-Bungi and **I** porked out on Volunteer au Schweitzer._

_When Naomi-Nomi gets home, **he** , **she** , **they** , or **you** will be going into the pot._

**_We_** _Nomis boast satisfyingly distended bellies, thanks to being strict nominatarians.'_

The Nomis smartened up fast. **They** cut out eating nominative __ pronouns so **they** could go on forming such sentences. 'Yet for some reason,' **they** grumbled, ' **we** are ever hungry-bungry. Our bellies, **they** all rumble. Maybe **we** should have stayed through lesson ate?' "

**The indirect object is in the objective case**

****

** **

****

_Looking down upon herself as a young schoolgirl, future Indian_ ** _Prime Minister Indira Ghandi_** _smiles to remember how _Indian society taught _her_ some **object lessons** _._

"What this DEFEAT has taught _me_ is **several lessons**. Lesson one taught me, _Don't be born a woman in India—_ which is enough to make any schoolgirl taut. Lesson two taught me that the indirect object always comes before the direct object. The typical sentence pattern is subject (DEFEAT)—verb (has taught)—indirect object ( _me_ )—direct object ( **several lessons** ). _'Less than'_ three taut me the most: _'Caste that foolgirl notion of rising above us Indian males out of your head. No such object as that exists in India . . .'_ "

34. They Put Her Dream in the Objective Case

In all the steaming heat of Cold War-era

India, midst great unrest, Indira

Gandhi had, as her sole object, being

India's Prime Minister; foreseeing

Her life's destiny, she, well connected,

Shrewdly schemed to get herself elected.

Twisting arms for contributions (by

This stratagem she hoped to bleed them dry),

She hoped, in _vein_ , to get each one's support

(As if, there, politics was a blood sport).

But she soon found there was hot opposition

To a _woman_ with such Prime ambition;

Found that males all thought to make a case

Of hot _Objection!_ —oh no, not on race—

But (just because she happened not to be male)

On her politicking gender, _female_.

Males, as one, to a hot-blooded man

As hotly _wrecked_ Indira's P. M. plan.

" **The Indir**(a) **-wrecked object is** ," she cried,

" **In the _Object!_ ive case**, female denied.

"What this DEFEAT has taught _me_ ," Indira bitterly wept, "is not merely one lesson but **several lessons**. Lesson one taught me, as if I were a schoolgirl with female dirt under my nails, _Don't be born a woman in India—_ which is enough to make any woman taut. Lesson two taught me that the indirect object always comes before the direct object. The typical sentence pattern is subject (DEFEAT)—verb (has taught)—indirect object ( _me_ )—direct object ( **several lessons** ). Lesson three taught me that if a sentence contains an indirect object, it must contain a direct object. I said, 'I'll see your direct object and your indirect object and raise you a visionary with great plans for India.' Males all told me, 'Caste that foolgirl notion of rising above your station out of your head. _No_ such object as that exists in India.' Lesson four taught me that a sentence containing an indirect object _doesn't_ always have to contain a direct object, which may be inferred, for example (as my mother agonized): 'Should I __ tell _Indira_?' The direct object, I soon inferred, was **the bad news: that she was born a woman and will never be anything more, though she will be treated as far less than an untouchable**. SHE told **it** to _me_ like it was—and still is. And that, Lesson five, taught me that the indirect object _doesn't_ always come before the direct object; sometimes it comes after in a prepositional phrase beginning with 'to' (SHE told **it** to _me_ ) Finally, Lesson sex coldly taught me that direct and indirect objects are usually pronouns or nouns (THEY told _her/Indira_ **something/the news** ), but may be clauses: THEY said to _whoever she thought she was,_ **'You'll go on to a school of lowest learning where you'll soon be taught the fundamental less-than, that it's just like a low-caste schoolgirl to come to class struggle with female "Dirt!" under her males.'** "

**The object of a verb or a preposition is in the objective case**

****

** **

****

_Starry-eyed_ ** _Julia Child_** _has a culinary dream, object of the verb aspire, for which she hasn't a ghost of a chance._

"Had I been the object of a _verb or a preposition_ , I would still have been in the objective case (sob), but I could have accepted it. But being the sole object of a _V'herbe Aura prep-position_ ('We object to your uppity ambition of prepping herbs in our hoity-toity _hôtel_ ') was just the cold objectification I so feared, throwing me into the rejective, thus _dejective_ , case. So I've given up all pretensions of prepping _les herbes_ , and thrown the full might of my culinary aspirations into prepping _les pronouns_. Ah, _bienvenu, monsieur_ . . ."

35. She Sobbed to Be in the Objective Case

Chef Julia, when she was but a Child,

Loved all things French; precocious, she was wild

About French cooking, most especially

_Les_ _herbes_ that seasoned, with such fragrancy,

All French cuisine. Grown up, she, no one's fool,

Enrolled: Le Cordon Bleu, famed cooking school

In Paris; cooked her Francophile (sniff— _Ah-h-h!_ )

Young heart out with _les herbes_ _au_ _Julia_ ,

With big ambitions (no cuisine dumb Dora):

Master Chef at famed _Hôtel V'herbe Aura_.

_Naturellement_ , she knew she'd have to start

Low, at its fabled kitchen's bottom: art

Of prepping _les herbes_ for the daunting Master

Chef, as everywhere there was no faster

Way to reach the top; so she applied

For the position. Then . . . she slowly died

While waiting for the news. It came. She pled,

" _Please_ don't object to my life's goal!" She read:

" **The object of V'herbe Aura prep-position's**

**In the objective case**." Dead, her ambitions.

"Had I been the object of a _verb or a preposition_ , I would still have been in the objective case," Julia sobbed, "but I could have accepted it. But being the sole object of a _V'herbe Aura prep-position_ ('We object to your uppity ambition of prepping herbs in our hoity-toity _hôtel_ ') was just the cold objectification I so feared, throwing me into the rejective, thus _dejective_ , case," Julia wept openly. "So I've given up all pretensions of prepping _les herbes_ , and thrown the full might of my culinary aspirations into prepping _les pronouns_ (object: to so tastefully season the sentences of discriminating connoisseurs as to leave them smacking their lips in pronouncing them delectable." Purchasing a little bistro in _La Rue Du Sentence_ , she hung out her shingle, and soon had her first customer, a gourmand who lusted after his object, ordering _"Objective_ _pronouns avec tout les trimmings."_ _Chef du Pronouns_ Julia, eager to satisfy his immense pronominal appetite (a subject she sensed he was most subjective about), fairly skipped into _la cuisine_ , bustling out in due course with his feast. Placing it before him, she beamed with pride. Her dishes spoke for her:

_Le first dish, it is my responsibility to meet both his appetite and **he** steaming hot._

_Le second dish, it is my duty to stimulate his taste buds and **they** (his salivary glands)._

_Between M. Gourmand and **she** , his equally gross wife, I, le third dish, will come._

_After le third dish, and **I** , le fourth dish, comes Chef Julia with les after-dinner mints._

_"Non, non, non, NON!"_ the exasperated gourmand objected. "You've brought me **_he_** and **_they_** , **_subjects_** of the verbs, and **_she_** and **_I_** , ** _subjects_** of the prepositions, when I distinctly ordered **_objects_** — ** _him_** _, **them** , **her** , ****_ and **_me_ —**all around _._ " _"Bou hou!"_ Julia wept. "Having failed with every dish, _one_ option is left me: I'm destined to be a master celebrity chef."

**Pronouns in the possessive case differ depending on whether or not the possessed object follows the pronoun**

****

** **

****

**_Antony and Cleopatra_** _(he mistakenly thinks he comes before her) are possessed._

"Is that so, Antony? Well you must own up: this possession we so passionately share between us is **our** possession." "No, one and ownly, I'm afraid I must part company with you there as well. It's quite obvious, at least to me, that this possession is **ours**." "Hmmph! Well I've no doubt the ruling judge will say, 'It is **her** prerogative to hold that position.' " "I'm afraid he'll say no such thing, Cleo **mine**. He'll rule, 'the said prerogative is **hers**.' " "That is **your** pigheaded opinion'?" "No, dear, that pigheaded opinion is **yours**." . . .

36. Possessive Pronouns, How Those Two Did Differ

Struck, Cleopatra and Mark Antony,

Possessed by love in 40-odd B.C.,

Would have each other, these possessive-prone nouns.

Strong desire followed: to be _own_ -nouns.

Heard in Alexandria and Rome

Was "He/She followed me the whole way home.

_Please_ , can I keep him/her?" All they spoke of,

Rome, Alexandria, was "puppy love."

Possessed, Mark, Cleo, for their _own_ obsession,

Hung upon each other for possession.

Joint possession didn't quite work out:

They differed, and thus each possessed a doubt

About their love. Self-dispossessed of breath,

They followed home their constant lover, death,

Young: Cleo died by asp, Mark by his sword,

To prove the rule, she bitten, he self-gored

(No price of puppy love was ever stiffer):

**Prone nouns in possessive cases differ**

**Based on whether objects so possessed**

**Come pre- or post- the prone nouns** own-obsessed _._

Possessed with possessing, nowhere did Antony and Cleopatra differ more than in the positions each took with respect to coming before and after the object possessed. "You are **my** possession!" Cleopatra vehemently maintained. (She started it so she got to go _before_ the thing possessed.) "I beg to differ, Cleo **mine** ," Antony countered in going _after_ his possession. "I should rather say 'the possession is **mine**.' " "Is that so?" Cleopatra bristled. "Well you must own up: this possession we so passionately share between us is **our** possession." "No, one and ownly, I'm afraid I must part company with you there as well," Antony said in parting. "It's quite obvious, at least to me, that this possession is **ours**." "Hmmph! Well I've no doubt the ruling judge will say, 'It is **her** prerogative to hold that position.' " "I'm afraid he'll say no such thing, Cleo **mine**. He'll be too busy ruling, 'the said prerogative is **hers**.' " "Would that be before—or after—he says 'That is **your** pigheaded opinion'?" "Neither one, dear; it'll be at one and the same time that he will most assuredly rule, 'No, that pigheaded opinion is **yours**.' " "Well! you just know he'll be thinking, 'I'm glad that's **their** problem.' " "Cleo, there's not a judge in all the Greater Nile Court District who wouldn't rule, 'I'm glad that problem is **theirs**.' " "The _Greater Nile_ Court District? Are we in **its** jurisdiction?" "No, my Queen, the jurisdiction is—wait! I _can't_ say 'the jurisdiction is **its** ,' can I?" "No you can't, and that is **his** ruling." "Are you sure the ruling isn't **his**?" "I'm sure it is! Oh, Antony, we agree on two things: **his** doesn't change, and **its** can only come _before_ the thing possessed, not after it. Do let's agree on one more." "What's that, my agreeable Cleo?" "Let's kill ourselves." "Sounds good to me—but let's do it _after_ we're both dispossessed of life." "No, Antony, _before!_ "

**_Who_** **and _whoever_ are used as subjects of verbs and predicate pronouns; ****_whom_** **and _whomever_ are used as objects of verbs and prepositions**

****

** **

****

_Used-pronoun pitchman_ ** _Cal Worthington_** _and his dog Spot._

"Folks, I'll stand on my head to beat anybody's used pronoun, so little used I have to sell them as _new_. Sure they're the objects of verbs and prepositions, but mostly envy, and a large part of speech called 'bait and switch': _Look! I'm a low-mileage steal for **Whoever** drives me away. Stop kicking my tires. LOOK at me. I will run like a top for **Whomever**. _Folks, I'll stand on my head to sell you a used pronoun. You want a good used **_Who_** , ** _Whoever_** , ** _Whom_** , ** _Whomever_** , ** __** come see Cal. Spot and I'll keep the bite on for ya."

37. You Want a Good Used Pronoun? Come See Cal

"Good used car" pitchman, hawk par excellence

Cal Worthington and his dog Spot's response,

The moment the used-car-commercial cam

Rolls, is to put whole car lots of flim-flam

Into the verb to sell! sell! sell!, __ Cal saying,

"I'll stand on my head to sell you [playing

To the camera, **Who** , **Whoever** are

Tuned in, transfixed, in need of wheels] a car.

Come on down!" ("Gosh, he seems like my best pal.")

"You want a good used car, friend—come see Cal!"

__

**Whoever** , **Who** rush (hoping soon to park it)

Down to the "big friendly supermarket-

ing of cars," two pronouns prone to buy

A good used car from Cal (" _Cal_ 'd never lie"),

All predicated on his TV claims.

Soon, subjects of Cal's sell! sell! sell!ing aims,

They find _themselves_ used—sold a bill of verbs

—And sore as blazes learning (" _Damn_ Cal's blurbs!"):

**_Whoever_ , _Who_ are used as** [lemon-own nouns]

**Subjects of** sold!] [**verb-sore predicate-prone nouns**.

"Folks, I'll stand on my head to beat anybody's used pronoun," Cal and his dog Spot (registered name 60-second Spot) make sure to get in in the carlotted time (time is _money_ in carmercials) "—and that includes **_Whom_** and **_Whomever_** —so little used, folks, I have to sell them as _new_. Sure they're the objects of verbs and prepositions, but mostly envy, and a large part of speech called 'bait and switch.' But what I and 60-second Spot would like to sell you on right now are these one-owner beauties right out of **_Who's Who_** :

_Look! I'm a low-mileage steal for **Whoever** drives me away. _( ** _Whoever_** is subject of the verb _drives_ , used once a week to drive its owner right round the bend to Distraction.)

_The really smart buyer is he **Who** believes every word Cal and his dog Spot say._ ( ** _Who_** is the subject of the verb _believes_ and is the predicate pronoun of _smart_ _gullible buyer._ )

But folks, I haven't just lost my mind when it comes to selling **_Who_** s and **_Whoever_** s for prices so low I can't even mention them on late-night TV. Just look at these **_Whom_** s and **_Whomever_** s that just came on the lot, each driven ten mph, both hands on the wheel, by one of a group of little old ladies from Pascagoula who _slowly_ backed them out of their sentences once a week just to be the _objects ****_ of envy, and the odd verb or preposition:

_I am the dream used vehicle **Whom** you fantasize you will find in a farmer's barn somewhere in the Midwest._ ( ** _Whom_** is the direct object of the fat-chance verb _will find_.)

_Stop kicking my tires and LOOK at me. I will run like a top for **Whomever**. ( **Whomever**_ is object of the preposition _for_ but, more important, the understood verb sell! sell! sell!)

Folks, I'll stand on my subject to sell you a pronoun (my object). You want a good used **_Who_** , ** _Whoever_** , ** _Whom_** , ** _Whomever_** , ** __** come see Cal. Spot and I'll keep the bite on for ya."

**An elliptical clause of comparison preceded by _than_ or _as_ requires the case called for by the expanded comparison**

****

** **

****

**_Santa_** _is dubious about the Mrs. having made him a basket case for Christmas._

"She egged me on. But if Mrs. Claus is elliptical, then why is there something missing in _this_ Claus, namely, my knowing whether I'm the expectant Father (Christmas!) of a boy or a girl? All I know is, an elliptical clause has a word or words missing: She says, 'I like the North Pole more than **him**.' (She means 'than I like **him**.' Object!) You see what an elliptical lot of help she is? If she'd only expand and supply the missing peace/pieces (boy/girl), I should have little trouble determining just which basket case I am in. . . ."

38. For _Christmas!_ She Made Him a Basket Case

Père Santa Claus, comparing Mrs. Claus,

Could not— _O my!_ — _o_ void to see she was

More ovate since, as perfect an ellipse

(Pear) as he was, his Mrs. did eclipse

His ovoid, ovate, oval form—by far—

She being most overtly _ovular_.

"Come, pair—a son!" she'd called. While he was keg-shaped,

He compared, saw " _O!_ she's far more _egg_ -shaped!"

As she, with most ovular decorum,

Waddled (thanks to Thanoraz) before him.

Now his soon-a- _parent_ question was:

"Which gender case will our dependent Claus

Be when the blessed birth day rolls around,

The just-hatched egg case laid on me—profound!—

_She_ called for. But an egg is cryptical

Of which till hatched— _O!_ **An elliptical**

**Claus of 'Come, pair—a son!' that is preceded**

— _O!_ — **by Thanoraz** (conceive drug needed)

**Calls for the case called for** (heiress one?)

**By the eggspanded**— _O!_ — **comp heir (a _son_?**).

"And that," Père Santa said emphatically, "calls for plain English: An elliptical clause of comparison that is preceded by **than** or **as** calls for the case called for by the expanded comparison. In other words, she egged me on. But if Mrs. Claus is elliptical, then why is there something missing in this Claus, namely, my knowing whether I'm the expectant Father (Christmas!) of a boy or a girl? All I know is this: an elliptical Claus has a word or words missing, which—if she would only supply them—would give this Claus back his missing peace of mind. In most such cases, what's omitted may be understood from the context. But this is no normal case—and if she'd only fill in the missing peace/pieces, I should have little trouble determining just which basket case I am in. But all I ever hear Her Elliptical Majesty mutter are such maddeningly missing-peace locutions as:

Mrs. Esquimaux-Pi is less elliptical than **I**. (The expanded clause of comparison is 'than **I** am,' which even I can see calls for subjective case **I** , not objective case **me**.)

Mr. Claus is the gift that goes on giving. No other Claus gives as much as **he**. (The expanded clause is 'as **he** does,' though she argues that it's hardly expansive enough; it should be ' **he** does give me a royal pain!' How could **I** ever be objective about that?)

I like the North Pole more than **him**. (she means 'than I like **him**.' Object!)

He likes six months of darkness as much as **me**. ('as he likes **me**.' Lucky for me, she never sees that that's no compliment—but when did that ever keep her from objecting?)

You see what an elliptical lot of help she is? If she'd only expand and supply the missing peace/pieces, I could at least have all my eggs in one basket case. I have a good troubled mind to give her a missing Ellipsis present, and see if she likes that as well as ( **sigh** ) . . ."

**When _who_ introduces a subordinate clause, its case hinges on its function in that clause**

****

** **

****

**_Who (Leo ingratias)_** _ingratiating himself live at the Savannah._

"Look, Who. See that lovely pride of lionesses out on the savannah, they, **who** are my heart's desire? I want you to approach these ravishing creatures and purr, 'Hi, I'm catchmaking for the really cool cat over there, King Leo, **who** has loved you since first sight; **whose** heart of a lion is true; and **whom** you could not help loving in return.' __ I needn't caution you, Who, not to be so foolish as to chat any of them up for _yourself_ with your _'To all the gr-r-r-r-rls I've loved before.'_ After all, I have my prides to protect. . . ."

39. Who Makes His Best Subordinate Clause Case

One Who ( _Leo ingratias_ ), whose paws

Roamed all throughout their lion pride (the Claws),

Was much esteemed a mover and a shaker

In love's ways, unmatched as a matchmaker.

One look told Who "Yes, she's love-submissive";

"That one's _not_ ; what's more, she's downright _hiss_ ive";

"Her compliance, yes is prominent";

"Her non-compliance roars, 'I'M DOMINANT!' "

One glance taught Who who was (it served his cause)

True-love–subordinate among the Claws.

Who knew, as well. that king of pride King Leo

Had, took pride in lionessing brio:

Mighty prideful, proud, true-loving hunk,

He shunned all in a Leo-shunning funk.

He roared, "Look, Who, just fix me up love right;

No _funk-shun_ cases, Who—true love on sight!"

" _Ingratiate_ yourself, make no faux paw,"

Who thought; "be ( **When _Who_ introduces a**

**Subordinate Claws, its case hinges on**

**Its funk-shun in that Claws** ) __ King Leo's pawn."

"Who ( _Leo ingratias_ ), **who** purrsuades not only in Purrsian and Catalan, but also the two main romance languages, Purrtuguese and Catalian, is one hep cat," King Leo growled. "He'll see that I, **who** have both my prides to think about, possess my object in life, _true love_ , __ a subject never far from my mind. Now a cat **who** comes in _three_ different cases (subjective, objective, possessive) is the cat **whom** I mean to engage as catchmaker. I'll see how good this cat is at ingratiating himself to me. I'll just call up Who, **who** is a supurrb matchmaker, and get him on the feline— _hello,_ _Who?_ Look, I could care less what grammatical case you're in—so long as it's not the _possessive_. __ Possession is _mine_ -tenths of the paw. As long as your cases are packed, I want you to get over here without pause. What? Yes, bring your paws. [Who arrives] Look, Who. See that lovely pride of lionesses out on the savannah? Well they, **who** are all just as true-lovely as can be, and **whom** their lawfully prided lion is loving nowhere near as truly as I would (obvious by their come-hither glances), are my heart's desire. I want you to approach these ravishing creatures when this catatonic impotentate is catnapping and purr, 'Hi, I'm catchmaking for the really cool cat over there [pointing at me] **who** has loved you since first sight; **whose** heart of a lion is true; **who** would _love_ to have you subordinate yourselves, in any case, to both his prides at a one-night informal true-love function; and **whom** you could not help loving in return. He says, "Please accept this killer Kenyan Katnip as a small token of the true-love nips I have to offer you." ' I needn't caution you, Who, not to be so foolish as to chat any of them up for _yourself_ with your _'To all the gr-r-r-r-rls I've loved before.'_ Whose pride do you think you're working for anyway, Who— _whmmmmmmm_?"

8. Verbs and Verbals

_They're charging Heidi Fleiss with pandering—in a town [Hollywood] in which the verb is an art form._

—Anna Quindlen

_A verbal contract isn't worth the paper it's written on._

—Samuel Goldwyn

**_Let There Be Parts of Speech_ , God said, and Lo . . .**

"I act, but other times I just exist;

In voice I'm activist and passivist;

I'm transitive, except when I am so

Intransitive I take no object—oh!

And strong, except when, verbally, I'm weak

(I love the way this adds to my mystique).

I'm moody, tense, I change, a mere inflection

Of my present/future/past perfection.

Taking all in all, don't you just love

Me when, some Verbs, I'm _all_ of the above?"

"And _more_. You failed to add how truly full

Of verb you are, how _dis_ agreeable

You are at times. Now, take someone like me,

Epitome of verb-bull modesty:

I'm incomplete, unfinished, non-finite;

I can't serve as a predicate outright;

I'm just a gerund, participle, and

Infinitive—as if God saw and planned

Me right: _Yea, I will make thee not so verbful_

_Of it—lo, I'll make thee perfect: Verbal._"

"I _speak_ , therefore I am _Verbs._ "

"Hmmph! _Speaking_ is something I do as a gerund, a verbal noun; my every spoken participle the result of my power to speak in the infinitive. Therefore I am _Verbals._ "

Oh, darlings, whoever said "actions speak lauder than verbs" obviously didn't know _our_ Verbs, and less _our_ Verbals. They acted out in going beyond the poetic confines of their respective verses, and went right on lauding themselves in prose. And, oh, such a ruckus! The other parts of speech are crying "Verbers most foul!" What an infinitive to do! But, come, who will perform the action of telling us what a verb is and does? _A word that expresses action or a state of being and functions as the main part of the predicate._ Yes, purely verb perfect, Laverbe! What else? _And inflects (changes) in tense, tone, voice, and mood to agree with its subject or object._ Yes! What a precocious, _precious_ child you are.

But look, while it's on my mind, I want to discuss the transitive verb, so called because its subject carries the action of the verb over to the object, which is required to give it meaning ( _The groom carries the **bride** over the threshold_). We all see that the **bride** , the subject/groom's object in life, is necessary to give him meaning. Now what lesson are we to take from this? _That the groom is very strong?_ Yes, that is so true . . . so beautifully, dreamily true . . . isn't . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . _What?_ Oh, yes . . . well, I seem to have gotten carried away there myself, if only, so very sadly, in dream. But, oh, my little "I _do_ "niks to come; that brings us, by way of heartache, to the subject of strong versus weak verbs. Who can tell us what we mean by strong and weak verbs? _Weak verbs' muscles work by inflection; strong verbs' muscles work by inflexion._ Yes! What a strongly perspicacious learnnik you are, Verbena, though you might well have appended, _and some **un** learnniks don't work at all_. __ Anyway, go to the head of the class. Scholarina, you take Verbena's place. There there, now, stop your snivelling, dear. You'll get it back again; you always do. Yes, do is a fine example of a strong or irregular verb the way it departs so irregularly (do, did, done) from the usual pattern of inflection. In sharp contrast, a weak/regular verb fecklessly follows the regular pattern of forming its past tense and past participle, adding d __ or ed to the present infinitive: pine/pined/pined for one; __ remain/remained/remained single. _O God_ , are you getting this all by heart?

(Sigh) even phrasal verbs are happily mated up and ecstatically conjoined till death do them part: turned off, stood up, turned down, let down, break up, broke down, told __ off, **** got over (wrong). But _where_ , all my eligible life, __ were look over, ask out, pick up, go out with, look forward to, luck out, pan out, take care of? For all I so wanted, _needed_ them, all that I have ever been conjoined with are linking or **** copula verbs, which assure that I am on in years, grow older by the day, __ look older, __ smell older, stand lonely, __ feel crushed, __ appear forlorn, __ become bitter _,_ sound more bitter yet, __ seem despondent, __ prove resentful, __ remain spinsterish _,_ turn ugly.

_Enough!_ of linking/joining/copula verbs and theoretical verbs such as to marry, whether in the past, the present (or, God, the future?). Let us bemoan now of verbals—which were as missing in action. Who can tell us from personal experience what a verbal is? _A verb form acting as a noun or adjective that cannot stand alone as a predicate._ Yes! What a perfect prodigy of a teacher's pet you are, Edverb. Speaking of pets, you've all kept a pet gerbil, but let me tell you, keeping a pet verbal is another thing entirely. For all I fed and watered, petted, nurtured and _loved_ them, every lost one of my pet verbals, the infinitive to marry, the gerund marrying, and the dreamy past participle married, scorned to requite my love. Just when I thought I had them amenable to the notion of being encaged and running their legs off on the long-tread mill, they were all too quick to act, and were last seen wildly running for the hills. _Beasts!_

Oh, darlings, darlings! It seems always that our hardest lesson to learn in the school of hard knocks, which institution of harder learning you have yet to attend, is that, despite being ever so transitory, _life_ doesn't ever promise to carry the action of the verb over to our one all-consuming object in life—the most moving of all transports— **love** ; but it _does_ bring us, howsoever unrequitedly, to
**  
**

**The Novel Rules of Verbs and Verbals**

**Vincent van (to) Gogh**

Do not give a regular verb an irregular ending

**Bill and Hillary Clinton**

Use the correct auxiliary verb

**Larry King, Bill O'Reilly**

Distinguish between a linking verb and one that expresses action

**Generals George Patton and Erwin Rommel**

In general, forego all "understood" verbs; supply them

**the Sheik of Araby**

Present participles, as verbals, take the objective case

**Sir Edmund Hillary, Tenzing Norgay**

Do not confuse the past tense and the past participle

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**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Nouns**

**You-all Lee**

A collective noun usually takes a singular verb

**Pronouns and Antecedents**

**the Singing Nun, the Flying Nun**

Singular pronouns require singular verbs

**Case of Pronouns**

**Carmen Electra**

In a comparison, a pronoun is nominative if it's the subject of a stated/understood verb

**Jules Verb-Be**

The pronoun following any part of the verb be, and referring to the subject, is in the nominative case

**Prince Hamlet**

The objective complement of the infinitive to be is in the objective case when the subject of the infinitive is expressed

**Dr. Seuss, Gerund McBoing Boing**

The object of an infinitive, gerund, or participle is in the objective case

**President Gerund Ford**

Pronouns and nouns before gerunds call for the possessive case

**Inspector Clue-So**

The subject of an infinitive is in the objective case

**Dr. Albert Schweitzer**

The subject of the verb is in the nominative case

**Julia Child**

The object of a verb or a preposition is in the objective case

**Cal Worthington and his dog Spot**

_Who_ and _whoever_ are used as subjects of verbs and predicate pronouns; _whom_ and _whomever_ are used as objects of verbs and prepositions

****

**Subject–Verb Agreement**

**A. Verb E. Schreiber**

A verb must agree with its subject in person and number

**Number One and Number Two**

The subject's number governs the number of the verb

**Meat Loaf**

A linking verb agrees in number with the number of its subject

**Adolf Eichmann**

Compound subjects so conjoined in sense they're looked upon as one take singular

verbs

**Ezra Pound**

A compound subject modified by _each/every_ takes a singular verb

**the Smokey Robinsons**

A compound subject of two or more nouns joined by _and_ often needs a plural verb

**John Gotti**

If _each_ follows a compound subject rather than precedes it, the verb is plural

**Hero, Leander**

For nouns plural in form but singular in meaning, use a singular verb

**St. Mary**

Use the singular verb with _none_ when it means "no one" or "not one"

**Bill Blassphemous**

Use the plural verb when _none_ implies more than one thing or person

**Near and Far**

If two subjects are joined by _or,_ _either . . . or, neither . . . nor,_ the verb agrees with the subject nearer it

**James Brown, Aretha Franklin**

When a relative pronoun functions as a subject, the verb must agree with it in

number

**To be Keith**

Forms of to be agree with the subject, not with the predicate noun or pronoun

**To pack Shakur, the Notorious B-I-G**

Words between the subject and the verb do not affect the number of the verb

**Socrates**

A prepositional phrase that follows the subject does not affect the number of the verb

**Dr. Jack Kevorkian**

Watch out for contractions tending to obscure the verb

__

**Adjectives and Adverbs**

**George Barris**

Do not use an adjective to modify a verb

**Verb Art Hoover**

After such verbs as appear, be, become, feel, look, seem, smell, taste _,_ the modifier should be an adjective if it refers to the subject, an adverb if it describes or defines the verb
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**

**Phrases**

**Grammar Moses**

Participial phrases that begin a sentence must refer to the grammatic subject

**Darryl Strawberry**

A phrase cannot contain a subject and a predicate

**Tenses and Tones**

**Judge Roy Bean**

Use the correct tense to express precise time

**Andro Clauz and the Lion**

The tense of the verb in a subordinate clause depends on the tense of the verb in the main clause

**Jesus Christ**

Use a present infinitive except when the infinitive represents action completed before that of the governing verb

**Airy-Anna Huffington, the Three Little Pigs**

When narration in the past tense is interrupted for reference to a preceding event, use the past perfect tense

**Party Hearst**

A present participle indicates action expressed at the time of the verb

**Donald Rumsfeld, Dubya Bush**

A past participle indicates action before that of the verb

**Lord Baden-Powell, Juliette Gordon Low**

Be consistent in the use of tense

**Ernestine the telephone operator**

Use the correct tone to express precise meaning

**Mood**

**Donald Trump**

In parallel constructions, do not shift the mood of verbs

**Declarabelle Cow**

Use the indicative mood to express a fact or to ask a question of fact

**Francis Gary Powers**

Use the subjunctive were after _as though_ or _as if_ to express doubt or uncertainty

**Bob Weir, Jerry Garcia**

Use the subjunctive were to express a condition that is hypothetical

**Winston Churchill**

Use the subjunctive in _that_ clauses expressing necessity or a parliamentary motion

**Elsie the Borden Cow**

Use the imperative mood to express a command

**Paul Revere, William Dawes**

Use the imperative mood to express a strong/polite request
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**

**Diction**

**Verb-be Hancock, Baba Ram Dass, Allen Ginsberg, Timothy Leary**

Avoid the use of be in place of say, as well as in circumlocutory be phrases

**Sentences**

**Donkey Hoaty, Sancho Panza**

Get after dangling verbal phrases

**Sprachgefühl**

**Marie Antoinette, King Louis XVI**

Hold to one tense in a summary

**Luke 'n' Ellie Mae**

Use the active voice

**Nicéphore Niepce**

Make statements positive in form

**Al Jolson**

Avoid using double negatives

**Franz Anton Mesmer**

Pit negative and positive in opposition for a stronger construct

**Tricky Dickson, Bebe Rebozo, B. b. King**

Replace be verbs with action verbs

**Rules of Thumb—But Not Me!**

**Ken and Barbie**

Shun the split infinitive

**Hoyt Active, Joe Passive**

Active verbs are always better than passive verbs

**Robert Frost**

Never split a verb phrase

**Do not give a regular verb an irregular ending**

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_Driving through a wheatfield with crows in his beat-up van, __Vincent van (to) Gogh_ _ crew, "Adver-Bella will be sorry I lopt off my earlobe and paint my shoulder bloody."_

"It was a dark and starry night. I was bound and it drove me so insane I thought, God, I am irregular. I gave all five irregular verbs— _six_ counting gave—irregular endings. Will I _never_ be regular? 'Adver-Bella,' I crew, 'I just paint "Starry Night." ' 'Are you _crazy_?' she said. 'You just painted "Starry Night." Not only that, you cried it. Is there _nothing_ you won't stoop to to be regular?' ' "Poppies—" ' 'Hah! You really _are_ nuts. "Poppies" may make you van Gogh—but they surely won't make you van go. Not _regularly_ . . .' "

40. Ear Regular, He Lopt His Earlobe Off

Verb Vincent van (to) Gogh, no amateur

At Goghing, was a verb most regular,

_He_ thought. Went in the head, he never knowed

He should have gone to everywhere he Goghed;

And since he Goghed to each place in his van,

He thought himself no verb pedestrian.

The regular (sane) verbs were all aghast

To see he Goghed, "Not right!"ly, right on past

Them in his van, each one alarmed, in turn,

To see he was a Goghing ("Nuts!") _concern_.

One night the adverb he van Goghed with _gone!_ d him.

Vincent's jilted mind van Goghed upon him:

Starry night, his mind insanely bent,

His whole get up van Gogh got up and went

Mad: "I'll show _her_ how much I love and praise her!"

Action verb, van __ Gogh took out a razor,

Straightway cut the lobe off his left ear,

And bled for her . . . then Goghed (she shed no tear)

To verb hell, taught: **Don't give** —hear!— **regular**

**Verb ends to verbs that are ear "regular."**

"It was a dark and starry night. I was bound and it drove me so insane I thought, God, I am irregular. I just gave all five irregular verbs— _six_ counting gave—irregular endings. Will I _never_ be regular? Wait! Maybe if I give regular verbs ear-regular (I still have one regular ear left) endings, people will cry, 'It's a blest miracle! Vincent van Goghed regular all of a sudden.' What have I got to lose but another earlobe? It's worth a cry. So I ran in. 'Adver-Bella—look!' I crew. 'I just paint "Starry Night." ' 'Are you _crazy_?' she said. 'You mean you just painted "Starry Night." You insanely gave the regular verb to paint an irregular ending, on the analogy of quit/quit, no doubt. Not only that but you also crew it, giving the regular verb cry the irregular verb ending crew, on the analogy of fly/flew, instead of the regular ending cried. I _know_ you weren't using it as the irregular past tense of crow. I mean, "Starry Night" is really nothing to crow about, is it? Probably won't sell for more than $75,000,000. Now, had you been a romantic _poet_ , instead of a fumbling, never-know-the-right-verb-to-say _painter_ , you might have convinced me you were using it poetically. Mon Dieu!' Desperate to be regular, I strained at another: 'One art collector said he prose "Sunflowers" way more highly than he prose "Wheatfield with Crows." ' 'Now you _are_ crowing. And you're just the one to talk prose, insanely, on the analogy of arise/arose, aren't you? instead of prized, the regular, sane past-tense ending of to prize. Is there _nothing_ you won't stoop to to be regular?' ' "Poppies—" ' 'Hah! You really _are_ nuts. "Poppies" may make you van Gogh—but they sure won't make you van go. Not _regularly_. Oh, why don't you just _end_ it all?' 'I tried, Adver-Bella, but I crapt out.' 'Of course; on the analogy of crept.' 'No, on this left earlobe that I ear-regularly lopt off.' "

**Use the correct auxiliary verb**

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** **

****

**_Billary Clinton_** _sacrificed lying in bed to be official auxiliaries at the triple swearing-in of Donald J. Trump. "We wouldn't **have** missed being two-thirds of the swearing-in for the world. Together we lie about everything. In the bitter end we **will** lie in state."_

"Look who **is** talking, Mr. ' **is is**.' You **have** justly earned no small reputation yourself for _using_ auxiliaries. **Let** us just say we both of us **are** known for using 'helpers.' In fact, you **could** say that we, Bill and Hillary, who together make Republicans profoundly biliary, are auxiliaries of each other. We **would be** telling the truth if we said otherwise. We **have** always spoken with a forked tongue, and we **shall** continue to as long as our tongues **will** fork it over. However, we **may** misspeak from time to time and **let** slip a half-truth . . ."

41. Hil Knows to Use Correct Auxiliaries

"Now Hillary's a _talker_ , unlike me,"

Bill shmoozed in classic mock knock-Hillary.

"She's one of those auxiliary verb whizzes;

Knows the meaning, Hil, of the verb **is** is

What one _says_ it means, yet she is loath

To say as much—but get her under oath

And she splits 'Here **'s** . . .' with such verb-Bill volition,

'Here **is** . . .' comes out—like a Billitician.

Heck, she speaks with such verb-Bill effect,

One hears my Hil's Billitically correct.

"Why, take the time Hil (she was my co-plotter)

Got herself in Ken Starr-hot Whitewater:

Hil, in one split sec, split **is** , then **was**

(Go Hil!); in even less, split **has** and **does** ;

Then **shall** , then **will** , then **would** , then **should** , then **may** ,

Then **might** , then **can** ; my splitting protégé

Split **could** , then **must** , then **ought** , then **let** , then **need**

(I taught her well), then **used to** , **dare** —in deed!

Hillitically correct, with verb-Bill ease

Hil's learned to **Use correct-talks-Hillarys**."

"Look who **is** talking, Mr. ' **is is**.' You **have** justly earned no small reputation yourself for using auxiliaries. **Let** us just say we both of us **are** known for using 'helpers.' In fact, you **could** say that we, Bill and Hillary, who together make Republicans profoundly biliary, are auxiliaries of each other. We two **will** , and always **shall** , **** help back up each other's lies. We **would be** varnishing the truth if we **did not** admit that the auxiliary or 'helping' verbs ( **be** , **would** , **have** , **shall** , **should** , **will** , **may** , **let** , **might** , **can** , **do** , **must** , **dare** , **ought** , **need** , **used** , **could** ) help us a _bunch_ in expressing the precise mood, tone, tense, and lack of willingness to be forthcoming of the main verb lying. We **would be** telling the truth if we said otherwise. We **have** always spoken with a forked tongue, and we **shall** continue to as long as our tongues **will** fork it over. You **should** know not to expect anything else from us. We **would** lie to you no other way. But you **must** know, we **may** misspeak from time to time, **let** slip a half-truth, then chastise ourselves that we **could have** dissembled better. But how **can** one, let alone _two_ , prevent it when there are open mikes wherever one is insincere, and two are twice as deceitful. Still, we **ought to have** seen the blunder coming and taken the steps necessary to be even more mealy-mouthed than usual. I **dare** say **** we **used** **to** lie without a slip in the White House, which brings us, at long last, to that old, beloved White House auxiliary slash 'helper'—that _elephant_ in the Oval Office lying _without a slip_ ; the one you **have** uncharacteristically refused to talk about all these years —and which we two **need** to bloody well talk 'over!' How's _that_ for splitting, Mr. ' **is is** '? And you **_shall_** know that if, together, we, Bill and Hillary, **did not** make Republicans so profoundly biliary, I **would have** chosen to damned well split from you a 'helper' ago."

**Distinguish between a linking verb and one that expresses action**

****

** **

****

**_Bill O'Reilly_** _: "I love getting out on the links with old Larry 'King of Softball Interviews' King for a little softball/hardball._

"Here are just two verbs which, when Larry uses them, link him to actionless softball interviews, but when _I_ , your humble action hero, use them express pure hardball action:

_Larry:_ I look like I'm about to fall asleep _before_ I bore viewers to death. [linking]

_Bill:_ I may dis Larry, but I **look** at the world through _John_ -dissed eyes. [action]

_Larry:_ I feel almost excited when my elbows prop me up for the full hour. [linking]

_Bill:_ I **felt** for Larry's pulse once, but I didn't find it, or any sympathy. [action] . . ."

42. O'Reilly Loved to Dis a Linking Verb

Old Larry "King" (of verb to interview;

Some _forty thousand_ of the world's Who's Who),

By asking no tough question to disturb

His guests, has long since come to own the verb.

He never does his guests hard-question wrong;

Just pitches softballs "Larry King Live"-long;

So softly pitches, all his guests (what fun!)

Cannot help hitting one grand-slam home run

On top the last till all (no hard-pitched queries)

Win the Softball Interview World Series.

Bill O'Reilly takes the _hardball_ mound

To pitch ( _whiz-z-z_ — _"Strike!"_ ) across the soft-renowned

Old Larry King Live plate: "King's soft (you knew)

On whom he winds up? _down_ to interview

(The verb he's linked to); questions so soft-fed,

So actionless it's Larry King _Stone Dead_.

Now take my action verb of interview,

The verb to grill; my viewers use it to

**Distinguish between** (the O'Reilly faction)

**Link-King verbs and ones expressing _action_**.

"Hah! I really love to dis King in this, my typical hardball manner, because I know that each one I whiz by him stings him to the quick. And every time I do, I make Loveable Larry all the _more_ dis-stinguished? Hah! Just could be the Most 'Dis'respectful Item of the Day. Now here's the Tip of the Day: go to www.distinguishlarry.com, click on 'Dis Link,' and you can pick up all the latest linking verbs that will link you to Larry, but will not express the slightest bit of action, just as the folks have come to expect from 'Larry King- _Somebody-Pinch-Me-to-See-if-I'm-Still_ Live.' Here are just a few of the verbs in question which, when Larry uses them, link him to actionless softball interviews, but when _I_ , your humble, real, live action hero, use them, express pure hardball action:

_Larry:_ I appear to be deader than normal today. [linking]

_Bill:_ I **appear** at book signings to promote my latest 'Killing . . .' [action]

_Larry:_ I look like I'm about to fall asleep _before_ I bore viewers to death. [linking]

_Bill:_ I may dis Larry, but I **look** at the world through _John_ -dissed eyes. [action]

_Larry:_ I sound about as live as the news of the disaster before this. [linking]

_Bill:_ I **sound** the alarm when the no-spin needle nudges above 'Zero.' [action]

_Larry:_ I feel almost excited when my elbows prop me up for the full hour. [linking]

_Bill:_ I **felt** for Larry's pulse once, but I didn't find it, or any sympathy. [action]

_Larry:_ I'm one sweet interviewer, and my guests all say I taste good. [linking]

_Bill:_ 'Cable News King,' I ** taste** success the _no-spin_ hardball way: [action!]

Once again, that's www.distinguishlarry.com. That's it for today, but tune in again when we may look as if we're dissing Larry, when, in factor gear, we're **looking out** for _you_."

**In general, forego all "understood" verbs; supply them**

****

** **

****

**_Generals George "Blood and Guts" Patton and Erwin "Desert Fox" Rommel_** _understood each other perfectly._

_Patton to Rommel_ : Mayday! Mayday! Don't look now but Patton hates kippered Goerring more than Montgomery.

_Rommel to Patton_ : Dummkopf! _DUMMKOPF!_ Do you mean "Patton hates kippered Goerring more than Montgomery hates kippered Goerring"? or "Patton hates kippered Goerring more than he hates **** Montgomery"?

_To each other:_ It's no wonder I understand understood-verb war even less than you. . . .

43. As War Raged on Their "Understood" Verbs Weren't

Gruff General "Old Blood and Guts" George Patton

Understood the way a tank could flatten

Enemies more than did Erwin Rommel,

"Desert Fox"; Guts understood the pommel

Power of the tank much more than he.

He, Rommel, understood, yes, generally,

The nature of the deadly German "Panzer"

More than Patton; understood the answer

(Shredding, maiming, killing soldiery)

Was _Panzers_ ; __ understood that more than he.

God gave both generals to understand

That he was on _their_ side, at _their_ command.

In general, God understood that he

Was bound to give their side the victory,

The chosen; yea, God understood this more

Than anyone. God damn it—this was _war_!

Give them the (understood) most killing gun.

God understood this more than anyone:

**_In General, forego all understood_**

**_Verbs_** _; as it is with guns,_ ** _supply them_** _good._

****

For all their verbal understanding ("War is hell!"), Generals Patton and Rommel didn't seem to understand the crucial importance of not allowing "understood" verbs to become _mis_ understood verbs. This became increasingly manifest as Word War II raged hot and bloody, reflected in their harried battlefield dispatches:

_Patton to Roosevelt_ : Urgent: I think Eisenhower likes MacArthur more than I.

_Roosevelt to himself_ : Damn! Does he mean "I think Eisenhower likes MacArthur more

than I do"? or "I think Eisenhower likes MacArthur more than he likes me"?

_Rommel to Hitler_ : Verdammen! Goebbels loves Bavarian sausage more than me!

_Hitler to himself_ : Gott im Himmel! Does he mean "Goebbels loves Bavarian

sausage more than he loves me"? or "Goebbels loves Bavarian sausage more than I love Bavarian sausage"?

_Patton to Rommel_ : Mayday! Mayday! Don't look now but Patton hates kippered Goerring more than Montgomery.

_Rommel to himself_ : Dummkopf! _DUMMKOPF!_ Does old Blood and Guts mean "Patton hates kippered Goerring more than Montgomery hates kippered Goerring"? or "Patton hates kippered Goerring more than he hates **** Montgomery"?

Let it be understood that as Word War II devolved into further madness, the two Generals continued to dash off their cryptic "understood"-verb communiqués. Well it's no _wonder_ that I've come to understand war even less than you. Wait! _Stop the war!_ Did I mean . . .

**Present participles, as verbals, take the objective case**

****

** **

****

_The ****_**_Sheik of Araby_** _laments his particip-pals leaving him, their objective cases packed._

"O Allah, you see **me** ruminating upon my _not_ -present particip-pals; see **me** ruing the ruination of my harem; and see **me** objecting: _Particip-pals are always trouble_. If they're present particip-pals, I'll see **them** , objective cases **** in hand, **** leaving me (my past particip-pals left me long ago). If they're perfect particip-pals—well, I'm convinced, despite what Arab grammarians say, that there's no such thing as a perfect particip-pal. But Allah, I think it would still be acceptably heavenly if each should be a little less than perfect."

44. Not Present Participles Anymore

"Praise God for the possessive pronoun **my** ;

Without it I could not possess a fly,

Much less the objects of my love's affections

—All my harem _bare_ for mass defections!"

Sighed the Sheik of Araby one dark night,

Fancying this harem-scarem (dark!) flight.

"All my pretty verbal harem faces

_Gone_ for packing their _'Object!'_ ive cases,

Leaving me, so verbal object-less,

No _present_ particip-pals to possess!"

On one of the Arabian nights (leaving

But a thousand) they _did_ leave him—grieving;

Packed their verbal cases, said, "Bye-bye!

We're leaving you!" He wailed, "Oh me! oh _my_!

You're _leaving_ —not one present particip-pal

Leaving me— _not one_ red-in-the-lip pal?

Not one lone _'Object!'_ ive case?—O lammers!

_That_ 's the way you teach a Sheik his grammars?

**Present particip-pals** — _every_ face?—

**As verbals, take**—poor **me**!— ** _'Object!'_ ive case**?

"O Allah," the Sheik of Araby lamented, "you see **me** ruminating upon my _not_ -present particip-pals; see **me** ruing the ruination of my harem; and see **me** objecting, thus arriving at a to rueism: _Particip-pals are always trouble_. If they're present particip-pals, I'll see **them** , objective cases **** in hand, **** leaving me (my past particip-pals left me long ago). If they're perfect particip-pals—well, I'm convinced, despite what Arab grammarians say, that there's no such thing as a perfect particip-pal. But Allah—lord! I don't know _what_ possessed me to stock my harem with _verbal_ present particip-pals, knowing perfectly well that they often end in _-ing_ —so are forever _running_ off at the mouth, _objecting_ , not _participating_ , _packing_ their cases, _walking_ out—woefully _depopulating_ my harem. Oh, if only I had had the presence of mind to stock my harem with gerunds. True, they're verbal too, but at least they're verbal _nouns_ who always take the _possessive_ , as opposed to the _'Object!'_ ive, case: **my** stocking my harem with all non-objecting gerunds would have assured **my** still possessing them, **my** being the proud possessor of a harem stocked with _present_ particip-pals (each your blessed present to me), and **my** remaining a happy Sheik. No, **my** having been left, **my** having been made a harem-bare fool, **my** having wept over it proves that, appearances to the contrary, there is no such thing as a perfect particip-pal. And so you see **me** weeping, you hear **me** wailing. Yet, Allah, thanks to you my case is not forlorn for your promised haremafter, where all my eternally present particip-pals will be wholly non-verbal, _perfect_ particip-pals, purely chaste for ever and ever. Oh, but Most Bountiful Lord, on reflection, if I might be a little more verbal in **my** possessing, I think it would still be acceptably heavenly if they should each be a little less than perfect.

**Do not confuse the past tense and the past participle**

****

** **

****

**_Edmund Hillary_** ** __**_and passed particip-pal **** Tenzing Norgay are the first and steamed second to climb Mount Everest, May 29, 1953._

"I seen right off, after I'd passed pal Tenzing up for 'first' glory, and our friendship been a thing of the past, that the past tense and the past participle are two different animuses: the past tense, just like the passed Tenzing, gets _no_ helping hand from an auxiliary, neither a be nor a have—let alone an Edmund. I known that, despite it had grew so frigid _cold_ , Tenzing been steamed. So steamed I thought he been going to mix it up with me then and there, but he done not, so I had to mix things up all by myself . . ."

45. He Passed His Pal to Be First to the Top

In May, cold spring of 1953,

New Zealand climber Edmund Hillary,

Along with one whose soul would never rest

Until it stood atop Mt. Everest,

Was making his cold bid to be the first

(Some few had tried, and all had been accursed

With death, as Mallory in the thin air,

Who had to climb it just "because it's there").

Exhausted, frozen, nonetheless he vied

With Tenzing Norgay, soulful Sherpa guide.

Become the best of friends the day that chance

Had bound them summiting participants,

Now Tenzing led them up the South Col's face

Upon their final push with plodding pace.

But cold feet from the top (he couldn't feel

For Tenzing), Hillary, in all his zeal,

Passed up his pal: "Look, I made top _first_ , __ Tenz!"

With one cold "Ten _zing!_ " Edmund learned, of friends,

**Do not confuse the** [oh! the "friendly" ripple]

**Passed Tenz and the _past_** tense] [**particip-pal** _._

"I seen right off," Sir Edmund recalled, "after I'd passed pal Tenzing up for 'first' glory, and our friendship been a thing of the past, that the past tense and the past participle are two different animuses: the past tense, just like the passed Tenzing, gets _no_ helping hand from an auxiliary, neither a be nor a have—let alone an Edmund. I known that, despite it had grew so frigid _cold_ , Tenzing been steamed. So steamed I thought he been going to mix it up with me then and there, but he done not, so I had to mix things up all by myself. What I should have saw been that I'd got my eyes crossed, for lack of oxygen, and used the past tense for the past participle—and ice versa. I seen **** that I done a bad thing passing up my old pal that way—but I _been_ the first one to the top of Everest—and as we drove climbers' say, the friend justifies the means, so I been **** not sorry I had did it. I seen I'd got (and might as correctly have gotten **)** my first 'got' right, and in my eyes, crossed as they been, that more than made up for all the ones I spoken wrong. On the way down, seeing our friendship been so broke, I begun to make things up between us since I had **** went past Tenz that way because I been so drove, but I gotten no sign I been **** forgave. If I had **** knew he been that frostbit I would not have **** spoke another word to him all the way down, and I done **** not. So when I had **** sank down to base camp, I sung my praises to high heaven that I had **** became the first to climb Everest—and been some sore when no one else sung back-up, although that cold bunch done have their backs up. Still, for all that my eyes gotten hopelessly crossed, I become giddy about my 'first' success, and I given out, 'Thanks, past, I mean _passed_ , Tenz, that you gone with me to the top and have since swore a blue streak I was first—for which I been knighted _Sir_ Edmund—just like a true froze friend."

9. Subject–Verb Agreement

**_Subject–Verb Agreement_** _, n. An agreement on the part of the subject that he will subject himself to the will of the monarch and want for no other verb except it be to bow down, to grovel, to tithe, to kowtow, to . . ._

—King the First

**In Person, Number, Two Could Not Agree**

"Now whether you agree with me or not,

I _am_ the Subject. As you'll soon be taught,

I'm neither _here_ nor _there_ —but have no doubt,

I'm this: A person or a thing about

Which some verb makes a statement; always I'm

A noun, word, or word group (yes, _every_ time)

Used as a noun or pronoun; sometimes I

Come _after_ the verb (just don't ask me why)

To say (like me, I'm sure you would agree),

'A verb is really _nothing_ without me.' "

"No, _you_ are nothing; you can't do a thing;

You can't act—that is _some gift_ that I bring

To you—a power I, Verb, freely give;

Without me—come, agree—you couldn't live!

Admit it: whether you are singular

Or plural, one thing you must know for sure

Is this: You can't agree in number or

In person if I, Verb, am not there for

You, acting and existing—come! agree:

A subject, you are _nothing_ without me."

A subject was out walking in the words one day when it ran into a strange verb. "Lovely day for a stroll, wouldn't you agree?" "I might," the verb replied, "then again I might not. It all depends." "Is that so? And what might your dubious agreeableness depend upon?" "Well, I will have you know that _I_ am a single first-person verb, and if it should come to light that you are a _plural_ _second_ \- or—hmmph!— _third_ -person subject, well, I couldn't _ever_ agree to be agreeable with you." "Well if I were—and I'm not saying I am—what if I were to, first, personally stick any number of single words between you and me? Would that square things between us?" "I should say not. They don't count. You and I are the only ones who count." "Now I couldn't agree with you more." " _Really._ Well I am first person singular, and you are? . . ." "Er, well, uh-h-h— _aren't_ the words lovely this time of year?" "Now you're _changing_ the subject on me. How could I ever agree with you . . . "

Darlings, in life you will often see subject and verb out walking in the words, in all kinds of whether. If they don't agree in person and number ("I don't give mine out to strangers"), they go their separate ways. If they agree, walking hand in hand, we, too, are sure to love

**The Novel Rules of Subject–Verb Agreement**

**A. Verb E. Schreiber**

A verb must agree with its subject in person and number

**Number One and Number Two**

The subject's number governs the number of the verb

**Meat Loaf**

A linking verb agrees in number with the number of its subject

**Adolf Eichmann**

Compound subjects so conjoined in sense they're looked upon as one take singular verbs

**Ezra Pound**

A compound subject modified by _each/every_ takes a singular verb

**the Smokey Robinsons**

A compound subject of two or more nouns joined by _and_ often needs a plural verb

**John Gotti**

If _each_ follows a compound subject rather than precedes it, the verb is plural

**Hero, Leander**

For nouns plural in form but singular in meaning, use a singular verb

**St. Mary**

Use the singular verb with _none_ when it means "no one" or "not one"

**Bill Blassphemous**

Use the plural verb when _none_ implies more than one thing or person

**Near and Far**

If two subjects are joined by _or_ , _either . . . or, neither . . . nor,_ the verb agrees with the subject nearer it

**King Solomon**

_There_ and _here_ are not subjects

**Liz Taylor**

A singular subject stays singular even if more nouns are joined to it by _in addition to, except, as well as, with, together with, no less than_

**James Brown, Aretha Franklin**

When a relative pronoun functions as subject, the verb must agree with it in number

**To be Keith**

Forms of to be agree with the subject, not with the predicate noun or pronoun

**To pack Shakur, the Notorious B-I-G**

Words between the subject and the verb do not affect the number of the verb

**Socrates**

A prepositional phrase that follows the subject does not affect the number of the verb

**Ravi Shankar**

_A number of_ is always treated as a plural even though _a number_ looks like a singular entity

**Dr. Jack Kevorkian**

Watch out for contractions tending to obscure the verb

**A verb must agree with its subject in person and number**

****

** **

****

**_A. Verb E. Schreiber_** _'s wife Cornelia agrees with him on one subject: he's pure corn._

"Take my wife— _please_. Last night I says to her, ' **Corn** don't agree with me, Cornelia—get it? ** __ Corn**/Cornelia?' And she says, 'I've got news for you: ' **Corn** doesn't agree with don't either.' 'Don't it now?' 'No, it _doesn't_. **Corn** is third person singular. Don't is first and second person singular; first, second, and third person plural.' 'Don't that beat everything,' 'Don't you get it? Don't is a contraction of do not.' 'Oh I get it! The two do not for life—and all the "Oh!" is gone out of the not—get it? not/ _knot_? Who's there? . . ."

46. She Don't Agree in Number, Person, Humor

"A. Verb E. Schreiber [went the comic's blurb]

Is really _really_ funny . . . for A. Verb.

The stand-up type, A. Verb gives you the choice

Between the active and the passive voice;

Too, you can choose to have A. Verb inflect

Itself upon you, and therefore _subject_

You (you do laugh, right?) regularly or

Irregularly—and choose, furthermore,

To get (you'll need it) your side-splitting suture

In the past, the present—or the future."

No one chose the "funny" self-describer,

Much less hired poor A. Verb E. Schreiber.

He was plain _a_ Verb. ("You're not a _two_ -o?

Pity! What we need's a comic duo.

Though on 'A.'very subject you're too funny,

Sorry, not A.greeable—too one-E.

Worse, A. Verb, you're just not _human_!") Spurned

For every stand-up job, A. Schreiber learned

That **A. Verb must agree in number and**

**In _person_ with its subject** [or not stand].

"Take my wife— _please_. Last night I says to her, ' **Corn** don't agree with me, Cornelia—get it? ** __ Corn**/Cornelia?' And she says, 'I've got news for you: ' **Corn** doesn't agree with don't either.' 'Don't it now?' I says. 'No, it _doesn't_. **Corn** is third person singular. Don't is first and second person singular; first, second, and third person plural.' 'Don't that beat everything,' I says. 'Don't you get it?' she says. 'Don't is a contraction of do not.' 'Oh I get it!' I says, 'The two do not for life—and all the "Oh!" is gone out of the not—get it? not/ _knot_?—Who's there? Don't that just slay ya?' And she goes right on, like she didn't even get those two zingers. 'Look,' she says, 'do, as in "I do"—like a damned fool—is correctly used with a _plural_ subject, like **_real_ jokes**, singularly _corny_ **you** for one, and first person singular **I** , _not_ with third person singular **corn** , which you'd know all about.' Then she give a trihumphant snort as if she'd delivered me some kind of a punch line. I swear, I don't know where some people get off thinking they're comedihens. So I says, 'Corny, and let's not forget just who's Corny around here, some day you and I is going to have to come to an agreement as to which one of us two who are knotty—get it? knotty/naughty?—has the natural ear—get it? **corn** /ear?—for knowing what's funny, and which of us don't. 'Well,' says she, 'I don't see why "his nibs and his little niblets," couldn't have ourselves that agreement right here and now. You're A. Verb, "King of Cornedy." That makes me your _subject_. __ In which case **you** have to agree with **me (** you don't) in person (third rate) and in number (too daft)— _every time_.' Well, heedless to say, Corny and me didn't come to no agreement. Sometimes there's just no learnin' a third person _no-sense-of-humor_ wife nothin'. I _knew_ I shoulda been a corn star instead. Lots of gals say I've got what it takes."

**The subject's number governs the number of the verb**

****

** **

****

_"We're really in the Oval Office now, Number Two, and we've both GOT to go—_ ** _Number One and Number Two_** _." "It's hard, Number One, but this dirty republican water will make us go. Still, there's good news." "What's that?" "Hillary lost." "What's good about THAT?" "We can leave the seat up."_

"If the subject is **Democrats** , a plurality of bleeding hearts, you can bet your lost bottom dollar, Number Two, that the number of their main verb, _give_ everyone cradle-to-grave entitlements, is plural also." "You've got their number, Number One. And you can bet your bottom _dolor_ , not your lost nor your last, that if the subject is the singularly right-wing **Republican** **Party** , that the number of their main verb, _gives_ BIG tax cuts to the rich, is the single most hated verb in the country." "Every single time, Number Two!" . . .

47. They've Gotta Go—Both—Number One and Two

All presidential candidates, the slew,

Know there's a Number One and Number Two

On every presidential ticket (place

Is all in any presidential race).

The president elect, One mounts the throne,

While Two, the next in line, holds back his own,

Just saving all his Number One potential:

Number Two be One most presidential.

Number Two his _Number One!_ awaits:

The One-to-be of these United States.

So Fate accommodates these Numbered two:

Now in the White House, flush with same-old new,

They do their Numbers (four and four—eight years),

Then—oh!—their worst _"Our days are numbered!"_ fears:

Each Number sees (their constitution's flaw)

They're subject to the Oval Office law:

They've both just gotta _go_ ("Bye! Toodle-loo!")

_Right now—_ both Number One and Number Two.

**The subject's number governs** [one can't curb

This act—it's law] **the number of the verb** _._

"It goes without saying, Number Two, that when a high number of politicians, meaning two, agree on any subject, such as the number of the verb, voters know two things: it's 'When'sday—and it's sure not Washington." "You never spoke Twoer, Number One, though the one exception is that we two agree on one thing." "That's right. If the subject is **Democrats** , a plurality of bleeding hearts, you can just bet your lost bottom dollar that the number of their main verb, _give_ everyone cradle-to-grave entitlements, is plural also." "You've got their number, Number One. And you can bet your bottom _dolor_ , not your lost nor last, that if the subject is the singularly right-wing **Republican** **Party** , that the number of their main verb, _gives_ BIG tax cuts to the rich, is the single most hated verb in the country." "Every single time, Number Two! And where would we two be without our like number of verb numbers?" "Out of the Oval Office, Number One!" "You know it! Neither of us would be able to do our business, known inside the Beltway as doing a Number on the electorate." "Yes, and if only we could be 'pol'ly trained to do it _out_ side the beltway the verb would agree with us all the more." " **I** couldn't agree with you more, Number Two. Besides, **voting fools** subject to this treatment, themselves numbering in the millions, are disgusted with the two of us." "But even more so with the One of us." "For which **they** deduce a number of things: 1) **Number One** , **the** **President** , has got to go; 2) **Number Two** is full of it, and has _really_ got to go; 3) **they** , **voters** , are in so deep that it will take rescue voters no less than four years to get _them_ out; and 4) whether **Democrats** do it, or the **Republican Party** does it, to them, their **days** —to say nothing of _ours_ —are numbered. So if **you** 're quite ready, Number Two." " **I** 'm ready to go when **you** are, Number One!"

**A linking verb agrees in number with the number of its subject**

****

** **

****

**_Meat Loaf_** _imagines his microphone is a giant greasy sausage link. When the fleshy behemoth collapses on stage spitting teeth, he is proven right: it's a real banger._

"I'm on very intimate terms with my linking verbs. Of these, I'm especially near and dear with taste. When taste does what taste does best, everything tastes good. I know in my gut that, while one singular **meatloaf** tastes good, _two_ deliciously tasty **meatloaves** taste twice as good. This shows me that _a linking verb agrees in number with the number of its subject._ I don't mind that the linking verb taste does not express action. I am more than happy to perform the transitive verb action and taste the object meatloaf myself . . ."

48. One Link Verb (Taste) Agreed with Him in Number

One Meat Loaf was the subject much in question:

"Is _it_ up to it ( _it_ , his digestion):

Breaking down his dietary eats?

We've heard of Meat Loaf's legendary feats:

However much he chewses to ingest,

His powers of digestion, unimpressed,

Soon break it down and end the food-binge bout,

With passing time—and pass it does, no doubt,

When, just like clogwork, it does disencumber

Subject of the lot—by doing a number.

"Ah-h-h, but just _which_ number will it do?

As near as we can tell, but one of two.

We've put, by our food-sciencing high jinks,

A number of ( _gross!_ ) greasy sausage links

Before the subject (scientific meat),

And gave him, Meat Loaf, but one verb: to eat.

We theorize he'll scoff each link—the slew—

And prove, going number one or number two,

**A linking verb agrees in number** __ [tub-checked]

**With the number of its** fore-gone] [**subject**."

"That's because— _brrrRUP!_ —I'm on very intimate terms with my linking verbs. Because I'm so close to be, appear, become, seem, feel, prove, look, grow, remain, smell, sound, stand, turn, taste, I know they don't express action, but rather a static condition or state of being. Of these," Meat Loaf went on between tasty links, "I am especially near and dear with taste, not least because when taste does what taste does best, linking up my palate with the state of bliss that comes from eating the things I love to eat, everything tastes good. I know in my gut that, while one singular **meatloaf** tastes good, _two_ deliciously tasty **meatloaves** taste twice as good. This shows me that _a linking verb agrees in number with the number of its subject._ And a greed in me has just now wholeheartedly agreed with this state. I don't mind that the linking verb taste does not express action. I am more than happy to perform the transitive verb action and taste the object meatloaf myself, and allow taste to do its linking verb, state-of-being thing and make the **meatloaf** taste good. So perfectly satisfied with my close relationship with taste am I, that I once thought to get near and dear to the linking verb be. Being a singer, I sang out, 'The **meatloaf** is badly _singed_.' But 'is' could do nothing to make the **meatloaf** taste good. Mortified, 'is' called upon some few of his linking buds (exclusive of taste buds) to help, but all they could do was make the **meatloaf** in question look, smell, appear, and _seem_ to taste good, but woe! It was not so. Wanting desperately to please me, 'is' and his linking buds offered to link me up with yet other links, that the meatloaf might turn, become, and (hitting my empty stomach) feel, thus prove, stand, and _remain_ good. But I declined. I was totally fed up; I'd had it—up to here—with linking verbs— _brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrRUP!_ For the time being."

**Compound subjects so conjoined in sense they're looked upon as one take singular verbs**

****

** **

****

**_Adolf Eichmann_** _: the **Nazi** , **Jewish specialist** , **SS/SD goon** , **Gestapo head** , **war criminal** , and singularly evil **compound subject** , the lot, **** oversees transportation of Jews to death camps, 1942, and, brought to justice, hears his own death sentence, Jerusalem, 1962._

"These compound-subject Jews take— _steal—_ singular verbs. It makes me mad enough to exterminate the lot thinking of all the singular verbs they've so thievishly stolen from me:

**_Sturm und drang_** _(storm and stress) has always been the history of the Jews._

**_Pain and suffering_** _ dogs them wherever they persecutedly go._

**_'Eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog'_** _ is Shakespeare; but, more important, it's a balanced meal a compound subject can only dream of._ . . ."

49. As One, He Took a Single Verb: to Hang

Herr Adolf Eichmann was a man of action

Verbs: "I kill for Hitler's satisfaction.

Jews I do not kill at once, I hound,

Hunt (to their misery), then I compound

And concentrate their death—one last solution:

I _exterminate_ —mass execution!

Starve them down to wasted skin and bone;

Then shower, _gas_ them down to naked groan;

Incinerate the race in hellish waves;

Then bury them in mass, death-smellish graves."

But one day Eichmann slipped up on the job:

He dropped amongst this grasping-at-straws mob

A singular verb—action missed by none;

Like jackals, they all seized on it—as one;

Subjected it, and him, to trial (that's well),

And executed him in Israel.

Thought Eichmann, dropping, " _Curse_ these theft-intense

Jews

**They're looked upon as one** —DAMN! nothing curbs

These kleps; they ALL **take singular**— _thieves!_ — **verb**—"

"If there's one thing in life I know," Eichmann mumbled on the job, "it's my compound subjects. The first thing I know about them is that they're more often than not clichés: tired, worn-out, hollow, empty, threadbare, plodding, unlively, dismal, leaden, 'weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable,' pallid, cold, cut-and-dried, hackneyed, bloodless, spiritless, __ lifeless, _dead_ things. Another thing I know is that they so commonly stick together, for warmth, that they're treated as one extermination, so take—steal! _—_ a singular verb, that is, if one or another of those curst compound subjects modified by _each_ or _every_ hasn't already snatched it up. _Gott im Himmel!_ It makes me mad enough to kill thinking of all the singular verbs they've so thievishly stolen from me during the Final Solution:

**_Sturm und drang_** _(storm and stress) has always been the history of the Jews._

_The children of Zion soon saw that **health and happiness** was not to be their lot._

**_Pain and suffering_** _ dogs them wherever they persecutedly go._

**_Goodness and mercy_** _ follows Christians all the days of their lives._

**_'Eye of newt and toe of frog, wool of bat and tongue of dog'_** _ is Shakespeare; but, more important, it's a balanced meal a compound subject can only dream of._

But enough of dreaming; I must go about the nightmare that is the compound employing my action verbs so synonymous with extermination, all of which please _me_ to no end."

The moment he said "end," the mass exterminator carelessly dropped a singular action verb. As fast as lightning, one compound subject, Simon Wiesenthal, seized upon it, and he and the others conducted a mass hanging, and the **Nazi** , **Jewish specialist** , **SS goon** , **Gestapo head** , and **war criminal** was deader than **peace and brotherhood** was dead.

**A compound subject modified by _each/every_ takes a singular verb**

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**_Each_** _and **every** bug in the bug ward drives mad poet _**_Ezra Pound_** _doubly mad._

"I'll show **each** and **every** one of them who thinks I'm raving mad just _how_ mad I am by following madman Adolf Eichmann, who had a good compound subject for example:

**_Each_** _street, lane, alleyway, and hope leading out of the ghetto doesn't._

**_Every_** _man, woman, and child wails upon being herded into the boxcars like cattle._

**_Each_** _and **every** incisor, bicuspid, canine, premolar, and molar is mined for its silver, gold. **Every** Goldberg, Silverstein, Leibowitz, and Bronski suffers the same fate._ . . ."

50. A Calm Pound Subject Madified by _Each_

In World War II mod poet Ezra Pound

( _Mad_ was more like it) stood his Fascist ground:

The Italy of Beni Mussolini;

Ate up all his Fascist scaloppini,

Causing Pound forthwith to lose his head,

Spout capitalist-damning speeches bred

Of madness, fount of anti-Yankeeism;

Froth and foam the virtues of Fascism.

Caged by Allies at war's ending, he

The further seemed to lose his sanity.

In citing "each and every act of treason

_Mod_ ifying Pound for lack of reason,"

Shrinks cried at his D.C. trial, "Restrain

Him! Pound has lost his head—he's quite insane

_—_ Cracked!" Straight was he, a tranquilized and calm Pound,

Subject to be tossed (St. Lizzie's Compound

For the Mad, Insane). Pound, for the fling,

Mad, took _one_ verb of speech since, ding-a-ling,

" **A calm Pound subject 'mod'ified by _each_**

**Or _every_ takes a singular verb**. [ _screech_ ]

"Mad? _Sure_ I'm mad—who wouldn't be?" Pound screeched on. "The shrinks had it in for me. They testified, 'each and every act of treason / _Mod_ ifying Pound for lack of reason,' a compound sly and disparaging allusion to my being a modern poet, and a bad pun. Well, as long as they brought up the compound subject of 'each and every' modifying a calm Pound subject, "I'll show **each** and **every** one of them who thinks I'm raving mad just _how_ mad I am. Eichmann, as much of a madman as he was, nonetheless had a good compound subject for example. And given that I already took a singular verb, the world watching, I'd be mad to try and represent myself as being above taking his example.

**_Each_** _street, lane, alleyway, and hope leading out of the ghetto doesn't._

**_Each_** _man, woman, and child wails upon being herded into the boxcars like cattle._

**_Each_** _of the villages, towns, and shtetls they pass by looks as bleak and forlorn as they._

**_Every_** _prayer, plea, entreaty, supplication, and appeal sent up to Heaven, Zion, and the Promised Land, and to the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost falls upon deaf ears._

_When they get to their destination, **every** bit of clothing, pride, and dignity is stripped from them; **every one** of their hopes, dreams, and prayers vanishes before their eyes. **Each** and **every** incisor, bicuspid, canine, premolar, and molar is mined for its silver and gold. **Every** Goldberg, Silverstein, Leibowitz, and Bronski suffers the same fate._

**_Each_** _and **every** Auschwitz-Birkenau, Belzec, Janowska, Treblinka, needs to be itself exterminated. **Each** is run by madmen—and **every** one of us **** is madder than hell . . ."_

All this mad ranting and raving about compound subjects modified by **each** or __**every** __ only compounded Ezra's troubles; ironically, he was nevermore seen to be calm, Pound, again.

**A compound subject of two or more nouns joined by _and_ often needs a plural verb**

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**_Mr. and Mrs._** ** _Smokey Robinson_** _ hack their way through the smoke to admire their matching sarcoughagi. Wisely, **he and she** have brought their final coughing nails._

"Here's to you Mrs. Robinson: **Mr. Smokey Robinson and Mrs. Smokey Robinson** , a compound noun formed of two or more nouns joined by **and** —" "just as we were joined by **'and** in marriage—" "are in total agreement." "Yes, and here's one more thing we agree on, let us harmonize for the record: a compound subject joined by **and** takes a _singular_ verb if the subject as a whole refers to one thing, person, entity: **R and B** is our thing." "But **Rock 'n' Roll-Your-Owns** holds a special place in our pleural cavities. . . ."

51. One Compound Subject Pleural in the Verb

"We Smokey Robinsons, two fuming nouns,

A couple black-lunged I-can't-put-'em-downs;

One compound subject to compound our troubles,

Do our fuming thing—what else?—in doubles:

' _Twice_ the hacking cough of Marlbeural'?

' _Double_ nic and tar'? Great! make ours Pleural

—HACK! In habit hooked, the Pleural way,

Into our pleural cavities each day

We suck two packs-plus down the pleural trough

To twice compound our pleural verb to cough.

"To hack away, two packs or more's just right

To twice— _come!_ pound us—cough away our night.

Come! pound us into compound pleurisy

—HACK! Since we, Mr./Mrs., couldn't be

Without our pleural down-the-trough weed habit,

We two Smokeys _need_ our cough-feed habit

—HACK —HACK!— **of 'two-**

**or-more' nouns joined by _and_** (as does 'I do')

—HACK!— ** _often_ needs** (wed habit it can't curb

No more than we can weed) **a Pleural verb**."

**Mr. Smokey Robinson and Mrs. Smokey Robinson** are driving the last few coughing nails into their matching his and hers sarcoughaguses, or as they like to pleuralize them, sarcoughagi. "We two can agree on _that_ ," they harmonize for the record, their newest single, _You've Really—HACK!—Got a Hold on Me._ "A world record: _The First Time in a Row a Married Couple Has Agreed on Anything._ " "Right, and there's another thing **you and I** have a greed on: our favorite brand is Pleural." "True! But that doesn't mean we don't like to _—HACK!—Shop Around._ " "No, not at all. **My taste and your taste** are not content to rest upon their Laurelboros." "Hardly. We're out to set a new world record by agreeing, yes, on _two_ things: **Mr. Smokey Robinson and Mrs. Smokey Robinson** , a compound noun formed of two or more nouns joined by **and** __ in sentence—" "just as we were joined by **'and** in marriage—" "are in total agreement: while our favorite brand is Pleural, still, we like a change of taste now and then." "And since 'Instance tastes good like agreement should,' we, the sometimes Lucky couple, will open a pack of Examples: 1) **Grammarians and schoolmarms** agree that it should be __ 'Instance tastes good _as_ (not _like_ ) a verb agreement should.' 2) _The Tracks of My—HACK!—Tears ****_**and __**_The Tears of a —HACK!—Clown_ make apt title tracks for our twin self-titled headstones." _"I Second That—HACK!—Emotion."_ "There's one more thing we agree on: a compound subject joined by **and** takes a Singular verb if the subject as a whole refers to one thing, person, or entity: **R and B** is our thing." "But **Rock 'n' Roll-Your-Owns** holds a special place in our pleural cavities." " _Ooo, Baby Baby_ , **Ligature and Mires** —HACK!—now makes a coughless cigarette, and we both agree (third world record)— _We just can't HACK it!"_

**If _each_ follows a compound subject rather than precedes it, the verb is plural**

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_"And e **ach** and **every** one of the words was penned by me, _**_John Gotti_** _. In fact, I'm such a wiseguy that all the words, **each** and **every** one, were penned by me._

"I became a _real_ wiseguy in the pen: I came to comprehend that if neither **each** nor **every** is comin' before a compound subject, the verb that follows is plural: _The hits and the whacks were **each** the work of Sammy 'The Bull.'_ _All the wiseguys and goodfellas know, **every** one, to pay me, the Clapper Don, respect_. On the other dirty hand, if **each** or **every** or both come before a compound subject, then the verb is back to bein' in the singular again: **_Each_** _and **every** one of the hits was the work of Sammy 'The Bull_' _Gravano. . . ._ " __
_  
_

52. Cons Learned, Don't Come _before_ the Compound Subject

"The Dapper Don" John Gotti, made the head

Of the Gambino family (he made dead

Its former boss Paul "Pauley" Castellano

Front a steak house _à la_ T. Soprano),

Beat rap after rap Feds had him on

To earn his other nick, "The Teflon Don."

But caught on Fed tape denigrating Sammy,

"Bull" Gravano put him in the slam; he

Ratted John out, took the witness role,

A new name; Gotti, _Life—without parole!_

The sentence stuck. No mafioso fool,

The Dapper Don stuck by the verb to rule.

Still heading up the family from his cell,

He ruled the prison compound, each could tell:

The subject of respect (fear holds regard),

Each con walked _after_ John around the yard.

What every yardbird learned was mob profound

(Read _heavy_ ): **If _each_ follows a compound**

Joint] [**subject rather than precedes it** **** [key]

**The verb is plural** ["Youse walk _after_ me"].

Oh they learned well enough, those yardbirds, but it was nothing compared to what the Dapper Don, in the process of serving his sentence, learned. As he put it in his tell-all _Gottibiography_ written in two pens, ball point and Marion Federal, "Because I didn't have nothin' but time and a dictionary on my hands, I soon came to apprehend, absorb, assimilate, and otherwiseguy store up in my head a lot of things. To make a long 'store'y short, I was becomin' a _real_ wiseguy: I came to conceive, comprehend, and otherwiseguy cotton on that if neither **each** nor **every** is comin' before a compound subject, the verb that follows is in the plural: _The protection_ _monies and the drug monies were just part of my weekly take._ On the other dirty hand, I came to ascertain, fathom, and generally be savvy that if **each** or **every** or both come before a compound subject, then the verb is singular: **_Each_** _gunsel and gun moll was under my mob-rule thumb. **Every** dirty cop and crooked politician has his own corner in my pocket._ Nacherly, every one of these things I've got in my head (my name's not Gotti for nothin'). I also got it in there that if **each** is comin' _after_ the compound subject, then the verb is back to bein' in the plural once more: _To this day, the_ _teamsters and the union bosses are **each** and **every** one prepared to bust heads for me. The hits and the whacks were **each** the work of Sammy 'The Bull.'_ _All the wiseguys and the goodfellas know, **each** one, to pay me, the Clapper Don, due respect._ Finally, I grasped, seized, and compounded into the yardbirds heads that if **each** or **every** was _ever_ showin' so much disrespect as to come _before_ the compound subject, which was none other than _me_ , Gotti, again, then **each** and **every** one of them notwiseguys was **** goin' to be sleepin' with a compound subject they'd have all the more cause to fear: the fishes."

**For nouns plural in form but singular in meaning, use a singular verb**

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_Susy Clemens and father Samuel L. Clemens (Mark Twain) playing_ ** _Hero and Leander_** _._

"The **news** of Leander's near drowning is so terribly frightening. I would rush to his side, but my **mumps** is swollen, my **rickets** is rickety, my **measles** lingers, my tooth **caries** drives **** me up the wall, and the stress has caused me to break out in **shingles** —which plagues me. I've tried to divert myself with games, but **darts** doesn't go to my target; **dominoes** sets in motion a black chain of events; **draughts** gives me walking pneumonia; and **bowls** upsets my bowels so badly even bowls of chicken soup don't help . . ."

53. A Hero Needs a Hero When She's Down

Poor Hero! She, a Grecian noun, a beauty,

Sought one thing, Leander, as her booty,

Loving him. _Woe_ , what a downer! He

Cried coldly, "Get thee to a nounnery!"

"Oh! have you swum the Hellespont to tell me

_That_ —when I'd hear words of love to _spell_ me?

(Sob!)" So little hope did they accord her

She despaired and joined the Holy Order

Of Nouns Jilted by Drip Lover (Him)

Who's Just Not in the Love-Requiting Swim.

A singularly mean (read _common_ ) noun,

Thought Hero, "I, to up my chaste renown,

Shall singularly chase Leander." Oh!

Soon on her cheeky face the ruddy glow

That comes of being _plural_ , she with child.

She'd singularly chased, she'd __ love-beguiled

Leander (the mean habit, the noun norm),

She sensing **For nouns plural in their form**

**But singular in meaning use a verb**

**That's singular** __ [mean habit nouns can't curb].

"The **news** of Leander's near drowning is so terribly frightening," Hero weeps. "I would lovingly rush to his waterlogged side, but my **mumps** is swollen, my **rickets** is rickety, my **measles** lingers in a measly contagious stage, my tooth **caries** drives **** me up the palace wall, and the resultant stress has caused me to break out in **shingles** —which plagues me the more with each passing minute. The court thatched-roofer says, 'The good news is there's not the slightest chance of leaking' (much to the consternation of my bladder)—but the court potter says, 'Bah! You're _bound_ to sooner or later.' (Sigh) sometimes, in my darkest hours, I fear I may not be too attractive, but then I am comforted by my sweet Leander's having often said, "My Hero, there is so _much_ I see in you." I've tried to divert myself with games, but **darts** doesn't go to my main target; **dominoes** always sets in motion a very black chain of events; **draughts** continually gives me walking pneumonia; and **bowls** upsets my bowels so badly that even steaming bowls of chicken soup are no help. Alack and alas and woe is—" [enter a dripping Leander bearing a ten-foot pole] "Marry, Hero! **Physics** tells me—no, not the physicking kind, the _science_ of objects in emotion, that I had best keep my distance from your ailuring [sic] beauty. In addition, the official court physicians, whose **mathematics** , the science of one and one making too much trouble for themselves, is above reproach, are strongly urging me (their **linguistics** sounds convincing) to avoid breathing in your exhaled miasma. Instead, they advise that the **classics** equates to powerful Romance therapy if read to you by a pooped waterlogged swimmer of the Hellespont ( **four miles** is a _long_ swim!), assuming the **economics** of this lover-drip is sound (he waits till **_Legendary Romantic Drips_** comes out in papyrusback)."

**Use the singular verb with _none_ when it means "no one" or "not one"**

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**_St. Mary_** _complains to the Holy Trinity, "but answer came there none."_

"O Lord, when **none** carries the sense of being plural, as often in your most Holy Bible, I, your humble nun-entity, feel it is your God-given right to couple it with a plural verb ( _behold, there were **none** of the inhabitants of Jabesh-gilead there _—Judges 21:9). On the other hand of God, you often use **none** in such a singularly contradictory fashion as to carry the _meaning_ of 'no one' or 'not one' ( _there is **none** to comfort her_ —Lamentations 1:17; _every one bear twins, and **none** is barren among them_ —Song 4:2). Oh God! . . ."

54. When _None_ Means "No One" or "Not One" Lone God

St. Mary took a vow of chastity

When she became a nun at twenty-three,

For Christian doctrine held a nun so oathed

Was spoken for, was thus to Him betrothed:

The Son, the Father, and the Holy Ghost

—Almighty God, Three-personed Heaven's Host;

And she thus _rightly_ sainted, for what nun

Betrothed to the Supreme Triadic One(?),

Thus serves _three_ masters, suffers _threefold_ plaint,

Does not deserve promotion to a saint?

Though Mary had the Holy Trinity

All to her single self for husbandry;

Though she was most polyGodmously wed

To the Trimatrimonial Godhead,

She couldn't sob that none was there for her

(On earth) for all her sobbing that none were

—Woe! _All three_ heard, and none was loath to throw

Down on her poor lone head, _Dost thou not know_

_To_ ** _Use the singular_** _lone] **[verb with nun**_

**_When nun means_** _lonely]_[ ** _No one! or Not ONE_** ** _!_** _?_

"O God," Saint Mary pleaded, "a while back you allowed the Singing Nun and the Flying Nun to briefly upontificate upon **none**. I only ask that you now allow me, a poor 'none' who knows a thing or two about the Order of **Nones** , to expound, in my loneliness, upon the heartbreaking _solitude_ of **none** when it means 'no one' or 'not one.' It's only fair that **none** gets its just deserts, unlike this nun who, because of her vow, has, all her saintly life, gotten just _deserts_. O Lord, when **none** carries the sense of being plural, as often in your most Holy Bible, I, your humble nun-entity, feel it is your God-given right to couple it with a plural verb ( _behold, there were **none** of the inhabitants of Jabesh-gilead there _—Judges 21:9; **_none_** _ were of silver _—1 Kings 10:21 (you know **nun** to be purest gold); _they shall find **none** iniquity in me that were sin_ —Hosea 12:8). Nor would I second-guess you ever when, on the other hand of God, you more often use **none** in such a singularly contradictory fashion as to carry the _meaning_ of 'no one' or 'not one' ( _there is **none** to comfort her_ —Lamentations 1:17; _every one bear twins, and **none** is barren among them_ —Song 4:2). And in this latter sense, who could fault you? None could argue but that you could quote no less an authority than yourself upon the subject __ ( ** _none_** _ is good, save one, that is, God_ —Luke 18:19; and thus _there is **none** of you that is sorry —_1 Samuel 22:8). Personally, knowing how Almighty good you are at using **nones** , I shouldn't dare. O Lord, you move in mysterious ways your **none** ders to perform. **None** of us is capable of fathoming you. And **nun** of us is foolish enough to try. And yet there rises up even now a **none** -married spinster, an honest-to-God **none** such of virtue, who nun-the-less _would_ like to argue, that she, for all her Godforsaken singularity, is no less deserving of sainthood."

**Use the plural verb when _none_ implies more than one thing or person**

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_World-phemous curse designer_ ** _Bill Blassphemous_** _springs his highly anticipated "blue streak" fashion line on nonesuches of virtue before they can get to certified safe spaces._

"I _had_ designs on sayin' 'I do,' which I guess there is **none** but wouldn't curse after he's said it that it ain't no smart thing to say. Still, I guess there are **none** of them nuns, who can't take husbands, wouldn't want to say it; but they'll just have to settle for takin' plural verbs, like **_none_** _of the nuns say 'I do.' _Here's somethin' else I designed that **none** o' the nuns in the nunnery can take to the alter: **none** can't be **none** but plural in this designer sentence: **_None_** _but your most red-eared nuns have_ _heard my bluest curses_. . . ."

55. The Pleural Verb When _None_ Hints: "More Than One"

Bill Blassphemous, the phemous curse designer;

When will he— _come on_ , be a diviner—

Hack up his next pleural blasphemy

From deep down in his pleural cavity,

And spit it out with loud designer zest

To get his latest curst verb off his chest?

It's not too late—come on you betting fool!—

To get in on the when-will-Bill-curse? pool.

The closest—too late once in-breath begins—

One to the nearest _nunosecond_ wins.

__

That's right, this pool, to hike the waging fun,

We've called upon the chasteness of a nun

To place _one_ thing—herself—before Bill's eyes:

A nun—who'll come as one nunsuch surprise

To him. It won't be long, less than a wink.

He's opening his eyes . . . here comes his blink . . .

And now here comes his curse to see—" _One_ nun!"—

To **Use** , before one nunosecond's done,

**The pleural verb when**—only hear his cursin'!—

**Nun imp— _"Lies!"—_ more than one thing or person**.

"Well now ain't it _just_ like a gaggle of nuns to be makin' a blankety-blank virtue of a nun's singularity—when I seen with my own two eyes only a nuno _second_ ago that _nun_ , because she was implyin' more'n one thing or person, was blankety-blank well wedded to the sense of _plurality_? And **none** of them were single. I mean each _nun_ was single, but **none** of _them_ were single. That's 'cause **none** of 'em know their blankety-blank grammar like—hah! You thought I was goin' to say 'me,' didn't you? But I'm too smart for that. I _had_ designs on sayin' 'I do,' which I guess there is **none** but wouldn't say after he's said it, that it ain't no smart thing to say. Still, I guess there are **none** of them nuns, who can't take husbands, wouldn't want to say it; but, since they can't, they'll just have to settle for takin' plural verbs, such as **_none_** _of the nuns say 'I do'; **none** of the nuns are mothers; **none** of the nuns like bein' single_. And here's somethin' else I designed that **none** o' the nuns in the nunnery can take to the alter: **none** can't be **none** but plural in these two designer sentences: **_None_** _but your most red-eared nuns have_ _heard my bluest curses_ ; and _These nuns are **none too** happy about hearin' 'em either_, on account of every single one bein' _one_ single nun. __ So there are **none so** disappointed as nuns in these two award-winnin' Bill Blasphemous-designed uses of **none**. But what the blankety-blank do they expect when there are **none so** single-mindedly fixated as nuns on one SINGLE verb, to marry, when nun implies more than one thing or person, 'stead of a plural verb, as . . . I do—hah! **None** of you nuns ever think I'm smart enough to have designs on sayin' 'I do,' do you? No, **none** of you know me. And if I'm EVER smart enough to have designs on sayin' 'I do' again, you can just bet it'll be to some blankety-blank **nonentity** who _can't._ "

**If two subjects are joined by _or_ , _either . . . or_ , _neither . . . nor_ , the verb agrees with the subject nearer it**

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_"Look,_ ** _Near_** _—you, too,_ ** _Far_** _. The good news is, King Tut has approved an extra ration of grog for each galley slave. The bad news is he wants to slalom. But, hey, this absolutely drop-dead gorgeous flogger has got your backs." Near done, they had to agree._

"King Tut's **penchant** for waterskiing OR Queen Nefertiti's round-the-world-in-eighty-slaves **cruises** are going to be the death of me," Near gasped.

"EITHER the **Seven Seas** in seven days OR one **Pacific Ocean** is enough to do a slave in," Far wheezed. "Some of Nefertiti's **jewels** OR Tut's solid gold **throne** serves for ballast."

"EITHER the **New World** OR some of the same old same old **tourist traps** are scheduled."

"NEITHER the massive **oars** NOR the rough wooden **seat** is without splinters. . . ."

56. "We rows" Does Not Agree with Near and Far

Two galley slaves in Egypt came to know

First hand, and second too, the verb to row.

These, Near and Far (for so the two were named

For how close to the Flogger they were chained),

Both came to know the verb to row so well,

Each stroke, each _lash_ told them it was pure hell.

The Flogger, for a hellish change of pace,

Made them switch oars, switch galley sides, their place

Each time, and thus their names, to make it clear

Hell wasn't far off; hell no, it was _near_.

One time, upon the Adriatic Sea,

King Tut sent word he wished to water-ski.

But Near, subjected to the frantic beat,

Could not keep up, despite the lash's heat.

The Flogger, seeing that she couldn't flog

Near up to speed, cried, "Grog-boy, verb to grog

Near." __ ( _Dis_ agree with grog? No, Near was far

_Far_ from it.) He sang: " **If two subjects are**

(Hic!) ******joined by _oar_** __ (hic!), **_either oar_** [he's lit]

**The verb agrees with subject Near— _oar it_** ** _!_** "

And if Near had not been so grogged out of his mind, to say nothing of verse, he would have taken further pains to state that not only two subjects joined by _or_ or _either . . . or_ agree with the subject nearer it, but also two subjects joined by _neither . . . nor_ , another pair of closely linked galley slaves. But when King Tut wants to waterski, especially slalom, it's all a galley slave can do to find the breath for that, never mind stating the rule in full for some spoiled English brats—with a lot of _free_ time on _their_ hands—three or four thousand years hence. As it was, the Flogger and the Grogger had to sweat it just to get these few examples out of Near before he expired of "galley slave's hypoxia":

_King Tut's **penchant** for waterskiing __OR Queen Nefertiti's round-the-world-in-eighty-slaves **cruises** are going to be the death of me._

_EITHER the **Seven Seas** in seven days __OR one **Pacific Ocean** is enough to do a slave in._

_Some few of Nefertiti's **jewels** __OR else Tut's solid gold **throne** serves for ballast._

_EITHER the **New World** __OR some of the same old same old **tourist traps** are scheduled._

With Near's expiration, it fell upon Far's already lash-raw back, and woefully belabored lungs, to take up Near's oar and gasp out a few agreeable examples with _neither . . . nor._ But do save some pity for the poor Galley Scribe who, though he really made the chips fly (thanks to a course in speed scribing), was hard-flogged to get them down in stone:

_NEITHER the **Sphinx** __NOR the Great **Pyramids** have ever been seen by any galley slave._

_NEITHER the massive **oars** __NOR the rough wooden **seat** is without splinters._

Tut cut a fine rooster-tailing figure back and forth across the wake, catching some good air. He swore it was the most agreeable rule he'd ever had flogged into them, Near or Far.

**_There_** **and _here_ are not subjects**

****

** **

****

**_King Solomon_** _:_

__

_" There's **pun** in every crowd. Here's wiser **thought** :_

_Wise **thought** , here, is the subject. Here is not._

_I've subjects all around me; **pun** , I swear,_

_Is one, but that is neither Here nor There._

__

"No, for all the subjects at my command, I never once had a subject _here_ or _there_. And _here_ is another interesting **fact** : _there_ is every **reason** to believe you clods haven't either. Immediately after _here_ and _there_ you stumble across the verb, then fall 'head' first upon the subject, as you did— _twice_ —in the second line: after _here_ , which you thought was the subject, you stumbled over the verb is, then went flying over the adjectives 'another' and 'interesting,' to land, hard, upon the actual subject, __**fact**. This **fact** is _here_ before us. . . ."

57. Wise Solomon Knew _There_ and _Here_ Aren't Subjects

King Solomon was very subject-wise,

And, legend has it, could extemporize

On any subject one might care to name,

For hours, days, then go on to declaim

For weeks on end, _months_ , __ leaving not one doubt

That he'd completely worn the subject out;

Not just the one that he was solemnizing

On, but he who gave the subject rising,

And but thought to get, for being quiz-dumb,

But some _little_ of King Sol's great wisdom.

Yet, though he had subjects everywhere,

King Solomon had not one _here_ or _there_

He might hold forth upon—for ears and years,

Thus boring those with two of each to tears.

"Though everywhere I've subjects for wise thought,

It's neither here nor there, __ for I have not

Of subjects _here_ and _there_ beneath my thumb,

Where _they_ would be—O God, I am most dumb!"

King Solomon then wised up to its subtext:

**_There_ and _here_ are never ever subjects**.

"No, for all the subjects at my command, everything from _aardvark_ to _zyzzyva_ and back to the total dummies under my rule, I, King Solomon, never once had _here_ or _there_ for subjects. And _here_ is another indisputable **fact** : _there_ is every **reason** to believe you don't either—whether you are wise to it or not. One reason, which ought to be reason enough for anybody under the rule of thumb of the King's English, is that immediately after _here_ and _there_ we customarily stumble across the verb (usually some form of the verb to be) and then, having lost all balance, sooner or later fall 'head' first upon the subject—as you dummies already did _twice_ (in the third line): After _here_ , which you all thought was the subject, you as clumsily stumbled over the verb is, then went flying over the intervening adjectives 'another' and 'interesting,' to land face first upon the actual subject, __**fact**. This undeniable **fact** is _here_ before us. You picked yourself up, red-faced, barely got by _there_ , __ which you as unwisely thought was another subject, then caught your foot on another is, went cheeks over teakettle over the unassuming adjective 'every,' and fell, to your eternal mortification, upon the genuine subject **reason**. No **excuse** is _there_ for such clumsiness. And _here_ is a simple yet effective **method** for avoiding such humiliating pratfalls: get it into your heads that, though _here_ and _there_ may look like subjects, this is neither here nor there—they're not. Except, of course, in the rule **_There_** _and **here** are never ever subjects_, where they are the compound subject of _are_ , and _subjects_ is the subjective complement. _Here_ is the **place** where you dummies are at right now, and down _there_ is that **** bottomless slough of despond, **Grammar** **Hell** , **** where _there_ are **pitfuls** of fool-snaring exceptions to the rules. And, trust me, if you're at all wise, you who are _here_ do not want to go _there._ "

**A singular subject stays singular even if more nouns are joined to it by _in addition to, except, as well as, with, together with, no less than_**

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** **

****

_Although she said "I do" eight times,_ ** _Liz Taylor_** _ever remained most singular:_

_Hilton, Wilding, Todd, then Fisher,_

_Burton, Burton, Warner. Miss sure_

_Had her share of husbands. Then she_

_Wed her eighth and last, Fortensky._

__

"Our amassed WEALTH, **except** for his silver hair and gold teeth, was awarded to me.

His one bad HABIT of saying 'uh,' **together with** his millions, was why I divorced him.

My renowned FIGURE, **no less than** my stunning blue eyes, is what they miss most.

EVERY ONE of my marriages, **as well as** my other addictions, sells millions of tabloids.

An OSCAR, **in addition to** a Tony, a Mike ( **no less than** an Eddie), **including** a Richard (two), **with** a Nicky, **together with** a John, **as well as** a Larry, has graced my mantle . . ."

58. Though Liz Wed Eight, She Stayed Most Singular

Liz Taylor, given her good looks (renowned

As _Singular! Exceptional!_ ), was bound

To take for granted that it was men's _duty_ ,

Smitten so, to court her for her beauty.

Hers was no such proper nouns to parry,

But, each one, don wedding gown and marry

Hilton, Wilding, Todd, then Fisher, Burton

( _Twice_ ), then Warner; last, Fortensky ( _curtain_ ).

Every time Liz got so wedding-gowned

—Swell!—she was subject to be _more_ re-nouned.

A voice said, "Liz, you are, in wedding _eight_ ,

Most singular! **Except** , Liz, shed _each_ mate

— **No less than** all you're **with** , **together with,**

**As well as** , **in addition to** —your myth

Will be 'Most singular!' " Liz spurned each one,

Said fond "Adieu!" times eight, and learned, undone,

**A subject "singular!" _stays_ single even**

**If more nouns are joined to it by** [cleavin']

**_'In addition to,' 'except,' 'as well as,'_**

**_'With,' 'together with,' 'no less than.'_** **** " "Fellas

__

"—bye! _Yes!_ as I've said eight times over, my myth is as good as my smile: I'm 'through!' and 'through!' Myth Taylor—and nothing if not **bold** come to remaining singular. And I'd have been a whole lot bolder about being through with this or that husband and included **_including_ **among those connecting words and phrases that don't affect the number of the verb to marry—or to separate. Oh, truly I would have had I not, a Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, already used up eight of my nine very singular lives in saying _'Yes!'_ And at this point in my remaining life I thought it prudent to save the last for writing my manoirs, and, yes, for remaining exceptionally singular, while at the same time (despite the many additions) keeping the _verb_ singular as well according to those circumstances peculiar to divorce:

_Our amassed_ _WEALTH , **except** for his silver hair and gold teeth, was awarded to me._

_His one bad_ _HABIT of saying 'uh,' **together with** his millions, was why I divorced him._

_My renowned_ _FIGURE , **no less than** my stunning blue eyes, is what they miss most._

_EVERY ONE of my marriages, **as well as** my other addictions, sells millions of tabloids._

_An_ _OSCAR , **in addition to** a Tony, a Mike ( **no less than** an Eddie), **including** a Richard, **with** a Nicky, **together with** a John, **as well as** a Larry, has briefly graced my mantle._

Yes, _eight_ marriages (sigh). Eight is a very manly number, don't you think? It becomes a myth. Yet there is one I know, a spinsterish and singularly green-with-envy schoolmarm, who complains that I, in being so man hungry, _eight_ more than my fair share. Well, what can I say? I dared to boldly go where no myth has gone before, thus splitting not only the infinitive but with every hubba-hubby who naively thought it was 'forever'; for which she has seen fits to label me 'a singularly greedy b—.' Well, I must concede, I _was_ **bold**."

**When a relative pronoun functions as subject, the verb must agree with it in number**

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** **

****

**_James Brown and Aretha Franklin_** _, Godfather and Queen of Soul, get down with the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center._

"Aretha, No. 1 hit single of my life, brown-skinned Queen of My Soul, you agree with me—in umber." "Ain't no way. I'm _queen_ —Umber-One. You, my Brown umber-one subject, agree with _me_." "You're right; your voice is the _one_ of all the soul sisters **that** turns me on ( **that** , subject of the relative clause, refers to _one_ and is singular, so takes singular verb turns); you are No. 1 of the _singers_ **who** have soul ( **who** , subject of the relative clause, refers to _singers_ , plural, so takes plural **** have). How agreeable is that? . . ."

59. Her Subject Must Agree with Her in Number

Famed black soul singer, umber-skinned James Brown,

A proper noun, had won his just renown

With one 'Umber One' hit after another

— _Seventeen_ in all. ( _Some_ record, brother!)

Years went by. Godfather, he, of Soul,

Reflecting on his Umber One-long roll,

Was struck " _Dumb!_ Brother James, they've all been _singles_ ,

Like you—all _alone_. __ Now you've the 'mingles.'

Single, one could make you number _two_ ,

Subjecting you, some sing-gal, to 'I do.'

__

"Aretha Franklin, brown-skinned 'Queen of Soul,'

Too plays her No. _one- to-marry_ role.

And, relatively prone to 'I do' her,

I, James, would be a prop-her noun for sure.

We'd both be relatively Brown in mien.

To wed _brown_ would agree with us." But Queen

Aretha deemed James but her _subject_. Brown:

"She cares _not_ **When a relative-prone noun**

(James) **functions as a subject** (One in number)

**The verb _must_ agree with it . . . in umber** _._ "

James was in a non-musical funk, yet he was singing the blues: "The Queen of Soul, the soul reigning monarch in the realm of the music we _should_ be making together, has made me her _subject_. _I_ , __ the soul Godfather in the realm. 'So what is a Godfather's reign,' I belt out on the brownbeat, 'chopped black-eyed peas?' Fat lot of good that does me; she belts me harder, with 'It's not for a Godfather to reign on a Queen's parade. A self-confessed relative-prone noun, functioning as a _subject_ , you need to show me some _R-E-S-P-E-C-T_. Yes, Papa's got a brand new bag, all right: you have to agree not only with _me_ , but also with the number of the verb, to wed.' 'Well,' I sing out, 'we've both had a _plural_ number of No. 1 hit singles. It doesn't get more agreeable than that.' 'How agreeable can it _be_ ,' she asks _,_ 'when you sing, "It's a _Man's Man's Man's_ World," and "Papa Don't Take No Mess"? Number one, that doesn't sound agreeable to _me._ ' She had me in a cold sweat. I had to put my agreeableness where my foot was: right in my No. 1 big mouth. 'Baby, you're right—but please please _please_ let me show you how agreeable I can be: number one, your voice is the only _one_ of all the soul sisters **that** turns me on ( **that** , subject of the relative clause, refers to _one_ and is singular, so takes singular verb turns); you are No. 1 of the chick _singers_ **who** have soul ( **who** , subject of the relative clause, refers to _singers_ and is plural, so takes plural **** have); I listen closely to all your soulful _stylings_ , __**which** have influenced me enormously ( **which** , subject, refers to _stylings_ and is plural, so takes plural verb have). How agreeable is that?' 'Well-l-l-l, since I _am_ Queen, you're my subject, __ and, most important, you agree with me in number ( _I_ 'm No. 1), I must say James _'Get Up (I Feel Like Being a) Sex Machine'_ Brown _—you make me feeeeel like a nat-ur-al woman._ ' "

**Forms of _to be_ agree with the subject, not with the predicate noun or pronoun**

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** **

****

**_To be Keith_** _, The Infinitive Hat Singer, is the victim of a stalker._

"The court recognizes the plaintiff." "Your Honor, this matter has gone well beyond a plain tiff with the defendant, Miss Groupie-Clinger." "To be so good as to grudgingly air some evidentiary examples, Mr. Keith." "To be sure I shall: _The most fanatical **aspect** of her crime is the __STALKING AND CLINGING_ ( ** _aspect_** , singular, comes before the verb _is_ so is the subject; _is_ , singular, **** therefore **** agrees with **_aspect_** , and not the plural predicate noun _STALKING AND CLINGING_ ). But, your Honor, **_STALKING AND CLINGING_** _are the _. . ."

60. Forms of To Be Agree with _Subject_ —Kate

One To be Keith fan, Kate "Sigh" Groupie-Clinger,

Thought him the infinitive "hat" singer

(Her esteem was wholly preda-Kated

On her having heard him sing, and rated

Him tops) " _Six–four_ (sigh) in his bare feet.

On top of which he sings—to _me_ — _real_ sweet

(Sigh)!" So she made him, for his vocalism,

Object of her mad fanaticism.

Predatory, not content to mawk him,

She erred on the law's _wrong_ side—to stalk him.

Kate so crossed the arch-fanatic border

To be slapped a _"Stop!"_ restraining order

On her for exceeding fanning norms,

And hotly signed the _Stop! Desist!_ **_Halt!_** forms

So ordering her: "Keep your fanning distance,

Noun _and_ pronoun, from Keith—court _insistence_."

Kate ignored its subject caveat:

"Girl— _stay away_!" and learned (sigh) jailed, that

**Forms of To be agree with subject, not**

**The preda-Kate (noun, pronoun)**. [He was hot.]

"To be or not to be letting the plaintiff To be alone: that is the question before the court." "Your Honor—" "The court recognizes the plaintiff." "this matter has gone well beyond a plain tiff with the defendant. If it please the court, let me, the _pained_ tiff, state my major tiff with Miss Groupie-Clinger, the _major_ pain-in-the-b—" "SoTo beit. State your tiff, Mr. Keith." "Your Honor, as is well known, some form of the verb to be often comes between two nouns or pronouns, in this case a proper noun, To be Keith, and an _im_ proper noun/pronoun, Predi-Kate, who predicated her predatory obsession with me on my being the infinitive country singer. Now of us two, To be and Predi-Kate, To be comes first, and the predi-Kate noun, Groupie Clinger, a distant second—and on this the law is clear: since To be comes first, _he_ is the subject and forms of To be (the restraining order) agree with the subject, _not_ with the predi-Kate, noun or pronoun—whichever fanatical guise she's stalking me in." "To be so good as to give the court some evidentiary examples, Mr. Keith." "To be sure I shall, Your Honor: _The most fanatical **aspect** of her crime is the __STALKING AND CLINGING_ ( ** _aspect_** , singular, comes before the verb _is_ so is the subject; _is_ , singular, **** therefore **** agrees with **_aspect_** , and not the plural predicate noun _STALKING AND CLINGING_ ). But observe that **_Stalking_** _**and clinging** are the most fanatical __ASPECT of her crime_ ( ** _Stalking_** _**and clinging**_ , plural, comes before the verb _ are_, so is the subject; _are_ , plural, agrees with **_Stalking_** _**and clinging**_ , not with the singular predicate noun _ASPECT_ )." "A capital crime of passion! Miss Groupie-Clinger, the court finds you guilty of predatory obsession, and summarily sentences you To be hanged—around the _pained_ tiff's neck—until you are _dead._ " " _—YES!_ Thanks Dad. I just knew _you_ 'd agree with the preda-Kate."

**Words between the subject and the verb do not affect the number of the verb**

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** **

****

_The Notorious B-I-G shows_ ** _To Pack Shakur_** _why his reputation precedes him._

" **Dying** —the tears, heartaches, agonies, sorrows, grievings, regrets—is **** something I never thought I'd do so young. Words came between the subject of my rap, **Notorious B-I-G** , and me, To Pack the verb, but _nah-nah-na-nah-nah_ , __ those words didn't affect the number of my verb: I was No. 1 alive—and I'm _still_ No. 1. In fact, I couldn't be any stiller if I tried. Okay, I'm still No. 1 _dead_. B-I-G deal. I'm still packin'—a lot of plural words between my singular subject, **Dying** , and my _unchanged-in-number_ singular verb is . . ."

61. Some Words Between them, and To Pack Was Dead

To Pack Shakur was known to pack a gun

(It came with being Rapper No. 1).

This made To Pack in-transitive: a verb

In transit to his death (he'd dared perturb

Notorious B-I-G, bad _baad_ east-coast rapper,

Running his To Pack big west-coast yapper).

They clashed one rap-fateful Vegas night,

Exchanging heated words post–Tyson fight:

"Yo _mama_ , Biggie," To Pack rapped to hoots,

"Like you, wears No. _2_ — _fool_ —army boots!"

Well those were fightin' words, sho nuff, and B-I-G,

Subjected to Pack's slur, rapped off _his_ dig:

"Yo _mama,_ To Pack, 's goin' to see me whup

Yo butt—your verbalizin' number's _up_!"

B-I-G had the Crips, his packin' bodyguards,

Gun To Pack down (Pack threw his rappin' cards

In). No. 1 _dead_ verb, To Pack, as planned,

Proved one thing: **Words between the subject and**

**The verb** [the rap is nothing can disturb

Him] **don't affect the number of the verb**.

" **Dying** —the tears, the heartaches, the agonies, the sorrows, the grievings, the regrets, and I might as well rap off about the mournful obsequies while I'm at it, whatever in Hell _they_ are—is **** something I never thought I'd do so young," To Pack bemoaned as he looked up, forlornly, from Hip Hop Heaven (when you're shot so lowdown out on the street, the only way is up). "Words came between the subject of my rap, the Notorious B-I-G, and me, To Pack the verb—but _nah-nah-na-nah-nah_ , __ those words didn't affect the number of my verb: I was No. 1 alive—and I'm _still_ No. 1. In fact, I couldn't be any stiller if I tried. Okay, I'm still No. 1 _dead_. So what? B-I-G deal. I'm still packin'. So what if it's eternal damnation? Dead rappers can't be choosers. And I'll be go to Hell—all right, I'm already there, so bloody what?—if a lot of plural words didn't just come between my singular subject, **Dying** , and my _unchanged-in-number_ singular verb is. The rap is I could've put _any number_ of plural words in between, and my main verb is would still have come out singular. So what if everybody says rappin' ain't really singin'? Wadda they know? So listen up, fools. **Rappers** , every single heat packer, 'hood glorifier, b-word disseminator, h-word spewer, n-word spouter, 'Off the pigs!'er, 'Don't snitch!'er, drug pusher, youth corrupter, live-by-the-rap-die-by-the-rap big-mouth blame-whitey, 'Hey-I'm-just-tellin'-it-like-it-is-on-the-street,' are **** livin' on borrowed time, doin' hard time to up their street creds. DAMN! If only I'd rapped off to B-I-G, _Styx and the Stones may break my bones, but Eminem will never hurt me!_ B-I-G would still have subjected me to a No. 1 hit, and my number would still have been up—by _one more_ No. 1 hit record. So don't tell me _Words that come between the subject and the verb don't affect the number of the verb_."

**A prepositional phrase that follows the subject does not affect the number of the verb**

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** **

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**_Socrates_** _, about to drink the hemlock. "Pah! What death sentence could you possibly give me as fatal as that one._

"I know nothing. Wait—yes, I do. I know that **Athenians** _from the old school_ is as thick-headed as they come. You make the classic mistake—but then _everything_ in Athens is classic these days—of thinking the verb is agrees with _school_ , the object of the preposition _from_ , simply because it is 'right' next to it, when it should be are in order to agree with the ultra-thickheaded subject **Athenians**. Here, I'll prove it agai—" But one example was enough for the subjects in question. They "got it" (the hemlock) and . . .

62. Two Sentences of Death for Socrates

His, Socrates', most philosophic breath

He spent upon his lifelong subject: death.

He tried to prep Athenians for their fall

By prep-positioning the phrase _for all_

Postsubject: " **Death** _for all_ will come some day;

A cold debt all Athenians— _all_ —must pay

In time. I furthermore philosophy

This death will come—to all—by verb: to die.

What's more, the phrase will not affect the number

Of the verb, _for all_ will know death's slumber."

" **Death** _for all_ Athenians," naturally,

Went over like a lead philosophy.

They sentenced Socrates, by verb, to death

_By cup of hemlock_ "prepped to chill your breath;

To numb you, Socrates—to **death** — _for all_

Your cheek!" He knew chill **death** _for all_ his gall.

For all _"for all"_ came post–his **death** they sing:

" **A prep-positional __ phrase following**

**The subject** —SOCRATES CHILLED NUMB BY HERB!—

**Does not affect the numb( _br-r-r-r!_ ) of the verb** _._ "

"I know nothing," __ Socrates declaimed, wisely pre-positioning it, via his Socratic Method, before death. "Wait a minute—yes, I do. Unlike you thick-headed Athenians, I know that prepositional phrases begin _with a preposition_: _over your heads, notwithstanding your ignorance, before the hemlock_. As usual, I arrived at this conclusion via deduction: the amount it cost me in head scratching deducted from my income tax as a legitimate cost of doing philosophical business. Yet another thing I know, and despair of ever _once_ getting through the thick Athenian numbskull, is that a prepositional phrase also contains a noun or pronoun that serves as the object of the preposition. But what I most despair of ever drumming in there is _NEVER make the verb agree with the object of the preposition_. But knowing you to be numbskulls—you believe in God, don't you?—I've reasoned that I'll never get it into your thick heads unless I prove it to you via my Socratic Method, which is to shout it into your deaf ears: ' **Athenians** _from the old school_ is about as thick-headed as they come.' And the reason you are so thickheaded is you made the classic—but then _everything_ in Athens is classic these days—mistake of thinking the verb is agrees with _school_ , the object of the preposition _from_ , simply because it is 'right' next to it, when it should be are in order to agree with the ultra-thickheaded subject **Athenians**. Here, I'll prove it agai—" But one example was quite enough for the subjects in question. They "got it" (the hemlock) and administered it to Socrates with a few choice words: "We've concluded that one should not belittle those whom one considers more thickheaded than oneself." "Did you deduce that via the Socratic Method?" Socrates managed to croak as he lay dying. "No, _simply_ via the Apothecratic Method: having a hemlock on reasoning."

**_A number of_** **is always treated as a plural even though _a number_ looks like a singular entity**

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** **

****

**_Ravi Shankar_** _'s heart is on a sympathetic string over a ravishing number._

"Woo is me! **A number of** tears are falling from my eyes, even as **a number of** Indira's charms are largely endearing themselves to me. Oh, what's in a number? **A number of** _heartaches_ are. A number one cannot bear since a **number** of her beauty is so singularly heartbreaking. One would love to be plural with Indira Devi, but she strings one along (from her pleural cavity, paradoxically), and one is single. "But if a **number** of Indira's endearing ampleness is singular, how come **a number of** is plural? **A number of** . . ."

63. A Number of Her Size Begot His Own

"I, Ravi Shankar, find Indira Devi

Ravishingly (sigh) big-number _heavy_ ;

And, since I'm a big name on sitar,

I'll string along and court this avatar,

Embodiment of girl colossity,

With all my fingered virtuosity.

Yes, so endearingly I'll make it sing,

I'll set in play each sympathetic string;

A number so serenely, warmly heartfelt

Her heartstrings will sing a song of heart-melt.

" _Singular!_ Indira's big-girl beauty;

Singing to her bigtime my heart's duty.

[Flash!] I'll have Endearing in to tea,

And sing the big one—'Will you marry me?'

A number of her size I'll treat—as _plural_?

No, as _'Singular!'_ " He got—demurral:

" _NO!_ Though many sighs this number has,

**_A number of_ is always treated as**

**A plural even though a _number_** —bye!—

**Looks like a single in-to-tea**. Nice try."

"Oh woe is me!" Ravi anguished, his tears coming in a flood. "For all my wooing, I have failed to make of this singularly swell number a _plural_ (coupled) entity. **A number of** strings on my sitar have proved, for all they are so sympathetic to my heart's desire, an insufficient number to win the day, much less the Devi. Why can't she be like **a number of** , which, despite its looking so singularly _one_ , nevertheless wants to be treated like **a number of** other phrases that are plural, and likewise showered with **any number of** verbs that are plural, and that **a number** feels is its rightful due? It's enough to make my sitar gently weep—to say nothing of me," Ravi sobbed piteously. "At this very moment **a number of** tears are taking it upon themselves to fall from my eyes, even as **a number of** Indira's charms are largely endearing themselves to me. Oh, what's in a number? Surely a number by any other name would count as sweet. What's in a number? I can tell you in a heartbeat: **a number of** _heartaches_ are. Oh, a number that one just cannot bear since **a number** of her beauty is so singularly heartbreaking. One would love to be plural with Indira Devi, but she strings one along (from her pleural cavity, paradoxically), and one is single. Oh, _woo_ betide!" he sobbed bitterly, then added by way of a heartbroken aftersob, "But if **a number** of Indira's endearing ampleness is singular—and a ravishing number is she—how come **a number of** is plural? **A number of** these heavyweight philosophical questions are doing such a number on my head that I just know **a number of** headaches, for **a number of** days, and lonelier nights, are going to leave my poor head number than it's ever been before. Oh well, at least now I know why a big swell number like Indira Devi is called a big swell number (sigh). It's what a swell-looking number like her do."

**Watch out for contractions tending to obscure the verb**

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** **

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_"Dr. Death":_ ** _Dr.Jack Kevorkian_** _demonstrates his Assisted Suicide Kocktail® Machine._

" **Where** 's the crimes in assisting the suicides of 130 hopeless cases?" "Where's the _crimes_? **There** 's the main one! The contraction ' **Where** 's' is feloniously obscuring the _singular_ verb is when 'crimes' is screaming bloody murder for the plural verb are." "Well **what** 's the Law's principal complaints against assisting someone to end their hopeless sufferings?" "Lord, __ restrain __ me! The principal _principle_ one—Dr. _Death_ —is your bloody ' **what** 's. It should be ' **what** ' _re_ _._ ' **** " " **There** 's tons of laws in every land. . . ."

64. Kevorkian Contracts One More for Death

"The hopeless ('There's no cure') who seek death's door

Know I can always be contracted for

Ob _serving_ their assisted suicide

By giving them potassium chlor _eyed_

To end their suffering—by mercy killings?

No, the verb I use on the death-willing's

Euthanize, a euphemism for

To mercy kill, a _'Crime!'_ all laws abhor.

Hold on! Why euthanize and thus obscure

The verb to mercy kill? _'A crime for sure!'_

"Well, I'm a scofflaw; I'll not just assist

Poor Thomas Youk— _here_ , Tom, let's have your wrist.

I'll needle-skewer you myself . . . . . . . . . . . . . no breath.

Observe, Law, Tom I've _mercy killed_ —to death!"

The Law observed Kevorkian, Jack, skewer

Thomas Youk—ob _serve_ Tom one life fewer!

" _Ten to twenty-five years_ for Tom's 'willing'

Death, your hand in contract mercy KILLING!

**Watch out for contractions tending to**

**Obs-skewer the verb** —to mercy kill—as you!"

Dr. Kevorkian cried out at being served his sentence: " **Where** 's the crimes in assisting and ob _serving_ the suicides of 130 hopeless cases?" "Where's the _crimes_?" John Law cried the louder. " **There** 's the main one—make that **there** 're **** the main _two_ —right there! The contraction ' **Where** 's' is feloniously obscuring the _singular_ verb is, when 'crimes' is screaming bloody murder for the plural verb are—and justice." "Well **what** 's the Law's principal complaints against assisting someone to end their hopeless sufferings?" "Lord, __ restrain __ me! The principal _principle_ one—Dr. _Death_ —is your bloody ' **what** 's,' a high crime and misdemeanor against the bleeding laws of the land. It should be ' **what** ' _re_ _._ ' **** " " **There** 's tons of laws in every land. **How** 's otherwise law-abiding citizens supposed to know them all?" "God help us! Ignorance—make that supreme, perfected ignorance—of the law _Watch out for contractions tending to obscure the verb!_ is no bloody excuse for ' **There** 's tons' when it should be ' **There** ' _re_ tons'; just as there' _s_ no bleeding singular excuse for ' **How** 's . . . citizens' when it should be ' **How** ' _re_ . . . citizens.' " " **Why** 's there so many 'bloody's and 'bleeding's in your rulings?" " **Why** _'re!_" __ "Have it your why, but **what** 've 'bloody,' and let's not forget 'bleeding,' got to do wi—" " **What** 's!" "Whatever. Anywho—" **"Any _how_!"** "What _ever_ , but when one uses my patented _Thanatron_ (Greek for 'death machine') to _self_ -administer their lethal dose of potassium chloride, or when one uses my patented _Mercitron_ (French for ' _Thank you!_ merciful machine') to breathe in their fatal draft of carbon monoxide, **there** 's no drops of blood anywhere." " **There** ' _re_ no bloody drops of blood _anywhere_!" "That's a bleeding lie! **There** 's a number of 'bloody' droppings in nearly every 'bleeding' sentence you hand down, John Law—" " **There** ' _re_ _!_ "

10. Adjectives and Adverbs

_The adjective is the banana peel of the parts of speech._

—Clifton Fadiman

_[T]he road to hell is paved with adverbs . . . they're like dandelions. If you have one on your lawn it looks pretty and unique. If you fail to root it out, however, you find five the next day . . . fifty the day after that . . . and then . . . your lawn is totally, completely, and profligately covered with dandelions._

—Stephen King

**They Modify Their Image First of All**

"Who _modifies a pronoun or a noun_

As well as I? It's fitting that a crown

Redounds to my renown, a kingly one,

For all my modifying. No, there's none

As limiting, descriptive—or as proper;

Fact: I _have_ no modifying topper.

Who but me is so good at applying

Indirect, direct—both!—modifying?

None. The truth? But _one_ , __ yours truly, is

The **** modifying, adjectival whiz."

"Who modifies as swell as you ( _are_ )? None,

King Modify **Swellheadedly**! No one!

While, Adverbs, I **so humbly** modify

A verb, adverb, or adjective—and I

Do **so** in MANNER(S), frequency, time, place,

And purpose, _plus_ I tell you, case by case,

When, where, why, how, how often, or how much

When verb, adverb, or adjective I touch

**—So** **meekly** , **** thus the crown of modesty

To me, _Queen_ Adverbs [glance]—how **fittingly**!"

Yes, class, that is the first thing you come to learn about Adjectives and Adverbs: like some other swellheaded parts of speech we know, they modify _themselves_ long before they do anyone else. But does _one_ Humpty Dumpty School teach you that? _No._ Imagine not teaching you an essential life-skill like that! Aren't you all gladder than ever that you caught the Omnibus to Ms. Spinster's, where the emphasis is on an all-around education as _opposed_ to an egg-shaped eggucation? Well now, who can tell us what egg-shaped is? _A compound eggjective modifying eggucation_. Just so, Adjectina! But can you tell us what three kinds of adjectives modify nouns and pronouns? Yes, _descriptive_ (the slimy, ugly, algae-green frog); _limiting_ (the younger, slimmer, handsomer, spellbound prince); and _proper_ (the Austro-Hungarian princess who lives deep in Enchanted Forest beside Frogkissing Pond). Excellent! What a sagacious, awesome-grammarian student you are. Go to the head of the class! Scholarina, give it up for Adjectina. There there, never mind, dear, you're sure to get it back once we've moved beyond her narrow and limited field of expertise.

But let's see, there must be another who can tell us in what two ways adjectives modify. _Ah!_ behold yawn **_Bradjective_**. Yes, good _afternoon_ , Sir Rub-Your-Eyes, O you who, while we were all getting it right from the verse's mouth, were so soundly nodding off. _A nod is as good as a few winks to a blind verse_ , is that it? Well, at least now you know the veracity of Ben Franklin's aphorism _For want of a verse the writer is LOST._ Yes, thanks to you and Morpheus, the Roman god of sleepy learnniks, _I_ am now going to have to remind the class myself **directly** (the dozing beauty), and **indirectly** (the learnnik, sleepy-eyed and dazed, said, "Hunh?") _. Spare the nod and spoil the know-nothing_ , I've always said.

Oh, but, darlings, do your seats feel hard? Have your little backsides grown numb? Good! Then you should all be able to tell me what are **** hard and numb? _No_ , not your seats and little heinies—hard and numb. What? _Right_ , they are adjectives, Sir Half-Awake, but what _kind_? Well, since they come after the linking verbs _feel_ and _grow_ , they're predicate __ adjectives, aren't they?

But enough of adjectives for the nonce; we'll learn more—what? _What's a nonce?_ Well it's a nonce-sense word, isn't it? carrying the sense of _the_ _present_ , which, assuming there are _no more interruptions_ , is when we are going to learn more about adjectives. Right now we need to say a word or two about adverbs lest they begin to feel slighted. What kind of adjective is slighted again? _A predicate adjective_ , yes—but I distinctly recall saying "enough of adjectives." Weren't you listening? Okay, be quiet everyone because Adver-Bella is going to tell us the five main kinds of adverbs, aren't you, dear? _Manner_ (Adver-Bella learns **quickly** and speaks **forthrightly** ); _place_ (we are all **here** now; aren't you glad you aren't **in Bradjective's shoes**?); _frequency_ (learnniks nod off **frequently** —and they **often** fail); _time_ (they get to school **late** , and daydream of leaving **before the bell** ); and _purpose_ (boys tease girls **to get their attention** ; girls play hard-to-get **to drive boys crazy** ). Yes, _two_ "A"s for Adver-Bella!

Oh, but there are three other kinds of adverbs, aren't there? A viewpoint adverb usually comes after a noun, and modifies an adjective that precedes it (Ms. Spinster's is a first-rate school **academically** ; every child is a good **** student **theoretically** ). A focus adverb limits the sense to that portion of the sentence focused upon (Ms. Spinster gives us hard homework **just** _to be mean_ ), or adds something (the unruly schoolboy had his knuckles rapped **as well as** _had his britches warmed_ ). And of course a negative adverb creates a negative sense in the sentence (he **barely** passed; she **scarcely** studies).

But **spryly, quickly** now, not **slowly** or **lackadaisically** , who can **smartly, articulately, grammatically** tell us what, in the mouths of little know-nothings, is the most common ending for an adverb—besides sure death, I mean? That's _right,_ **-ly**. What a **truly** clever chick-cum-bird-to-be you are, Polly-Math. Your parrots must be **exceedingly** proud of you. Then again, if, _for no good reason_ , __ you were **unaccountably** to exhibit _two_ telltail endings, **-ways** and **-wise** ( **horizontalways, learningwise** ), they would **ashamedlywise** disown you, and a certain schoolmarm would almost **assuredly** pour announce of _assault_ on the one tail, and heap some rather _salty denouncements_ upon the other—wouldn't she?

Well, enough of condemnments; it's time now to—oh, one final question, darlings: Who can tell us yet one more telltale characteristic of adverbs? Question Mark? _What?_ Yes, I _know_ that's two questions. But never mind, your being _right_ makes up for it, almost: _They move around more than military brats_. However, Lee Marvin (sigh) will have much more to say about that peripatetic tendency later. Right now it's time for _you_ to be moved by

**The Novel Rules of Adjectives and Adverbs**

**George Barris**

Do not use an adjective to modify a verb

**Blackbeard**

Do not confuse the comparative of an adjective with that of an adverb

**Adam and Eve**

Do not use an adjective to modify another adjective

**John Paul the Second**

Be accurate in using words that may be either adjectives or adverbs

**Verb Art Hoover**

After such verbs as appear, be, become, feel, look, seem, smell, taste _,_ the modifier should be an adjective if it refers to the subject, an adverb if it describes or defines the verb

**Tevye, Yente, Tzeitel, Chava, Hodel**

The comparative is used for comparing two persons or objects or actions; the superlative is used for comparing more than two

**Double Agent (Oh-oh!)7**

Avoid double comparatives and superlatives

**Oreo James Simpson**

Avoid including the subject compared if the subject is part of the group with which it is being compared

**George Strait, Shorthand Sweet**

Use adjectives and adverbs with restraint

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Conjunctions**

**Con-way Twitty**

Distinguish among the meanings of conjunctions and conjunctive adverbs

**Amelia Earhart, Solo Claus**

Avoid joining words or phrases or dependent clauses with a conjunctive adverb

**Sentences**

**Lee Marvin, Michelle Triola**

Properly position words such as _even, hardly, not only, scarcely_

**Mr. Magoo, Waldo**

Avoid a squinting modifier

**the Dung Beetles**

Avoid a mixed or double comparison

**Sprachgefühl**

**Empty Dumpty, Alice in Wonderland**

Avoid the empty-adverb plague

**Rules of Thumb—But Not Me!**

**Sir Thomas More, King Henry VIII**

Things cannot be more perfect, unique, complete, round, absolute, etc.

**J. P. More-Than, Andrew Carnegie**

Always use _more than_ instead of _over_ with numbers

**Bob Hopefully, Bing Crossly**

Never start a sentence "Hopefully . . ."

**However Hughes**

Never begin a sentence with "However . . ."

**Do not use an adjective to modify a verb**

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_Succumbing to the alluring "ad"s, "King of Kustomizers"_ ** _George Barris_** _cruises Rodeo Drive in his kustom 1936 Verb Spend, with predictable results._

"If only I'd stuck to Kustomizing cars. But the creative challenge of modifying Verbs was more than I could bear, and _way_ more than I could Barris. Especially emBarrissing were my modifications to active and passive model Verbs. My first Kustomer sobbed, 'I brought my '36 Verb Spend into your shop—and gave you Kustom Kart Blanche with it. What you created for me was this award-losing vehicle: _All his money he Spends **foolish**_. The Kustom _adjective_ you tacked onto its rear end took "Dead Last in Show." ' . . ."

65. George Modifies a Verb, And It Goes "Bad"

George Barris, self-styled "King of Kustomizers"

(Modifying Cadillacs to Kaisers),

Found himself, post–sixty-some-odd years,

_So_ Kustom-bored, to teardrop-taillight tears,

Of Kustomizing cars, and only cars

(Sigh) into _objets d'art_ , four-wheeled Renoirs.

George, King of adding things to cars that give

Them "mod" appeal was crowned "King Addjective."

So, tired of adding Lake Pipes next the curbs,

George turned instead to Kustomizing Verbs:

He chopped and channeled one stock Transitive

Verb down to _Barris_ bones infinitive.

So stripped was it without its to (how thin!)

It couldn't take its object for a spin.

" 'By _George_ ,' without its to it's lost its strength!"

It's owner wept. George added to its length

(Extended bumpers). "Oops!" the Verb was longer,

But, by _George_ , it wasn't any stronger.

Sobbed the Kustomer: " **Do _not_ use**—curb!—

**An Addjective to modify a Verb**!"

So the Kustomer had to add on the cussed-him objection himself so that his Transitive Verb might take the object of his disgust this message: "The end!" "By George, that's just where I make many of _my_ Kustom additions, such as continental kits and 'Oops!' But _Darnitall!_ " George Kussed, a Kustom cuss he whipped up by extending the bummer on a stock vintage _Darn!_ "If only I'd stuck to cars. I'd built a good business modifying stock vehicles by adding adjectives onto their front ends _directly_ : **chopped** , **channeled '48** __ Merc; **raked** , **candy-coated** , **fuel-injected '40** Ford; and by adding onto their tail ends _indirectly_ : my Batmobile is **rocket powered** , **bulletproof** , **famous** ; my Munsters' Coach is **black** , **brassy,** **lo-o-o-o-o-o-ong**. In addition, I **** was **high** and **mighty** from breathing all the Kustom paint fumes. And yet the allure, the creative challenge, of modifying Verbs was more than I could bear, and _way_ more than I could Barris, Kustomers added bitterly. Especially emBarrissing were my modifications to active and passive model Verbs that you could go places **quick** [ **quickly** ] in, do things **crazy** [ **crazily** ] in. My first ever Verb Kustomer, who agreed to weep openly only on condition that his identity (Fool) be kept synonymous, sobbed, 'I brought my "baby," my mint condition '36 Verb Spend into your shop—and gave you Kustom Kart Blanche with it. What you created for me, and I, like a darn fool, entered in a Kustom Kart Blanche show, was this award-losing vehicle: _All his money he Spends **foolish**_. The Kustom _adjective_ you tacked onto its rear end,' he sobbed in between fits, 'took "Dead Last in Show." You couldn't have added on **_foolishly_** —an _adverb_ —maybe?' The King of Kustomizers, I went **sadder** [ ** _sadly_** ] but not **wiser** [ ** _wisely_** ] on to open a new shop and create lots more **Bad** [ ** _Badly!_** ] Kustomized Verbs by George."

**Do not confuse the comparative of an adjective with that of an adverb**

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** **

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_Captain Edward Teach, aka "_ ** _Blackbeard_** _," is very **bad** taught by a pair of birdbrains._

"Arrrrr! _That_ be the problem. The nadjective is squawking into my nadverbial ear, and the nadverb is screeching into my nadjectrivial ear." [he switches them to curses all around] " _Awwk!_ a nadjective, I humbly add **–er** to my tail to make myself comparrotive, and **–est** to make myself suparrotive." " _Rawwk!_ What a blowhard. A nadverb, I sometimes squawk **badly** of a certain conceited parrot, sometimes **worse** , but _mostly_ , being modest, I squawk my suparrotive **worst** about that loud, _egotistical birdbrain_. . . ."

66. Three Birdbrains. Sum? Comparative Confusion

One Captain Edward Teach, he known as "Blackbeard,"

Pirate so bad all ships his attack feared,

Carried not just one, for he was bolder,

But _two_ parrots—one upon each shoulder:

One a nadjective from far Ceylon;

Its mate a nadverb from the Amazon.

And it was all that he, amidst the riot

(Pirating), could do to keep them quiet.

Keep them calm Teach did, though, pirate wiser,

Giving each its own breed tranquilizer.

Once, in the confusion of a plunder,

He made a comparative bird blunder:

Gave each parrot having a conniption

—Woe! the _other_ squawking head's prescription.

"Blackbeard's," one squawked, "a **more badly** corsair."

"His beard grates **more coarse** ," squawked mate, "than _horse hair_."

"Curse you both!" Teach fumed, "This blunder's taught

Me: **Don't confuse the** (my nerves **badder** shot)

**Calm-parrotive of a**—it be a _bad_ verb—

**Nadjective with that**—arrr!— **of a nadverb**."

" _Awwk!_ " the nadjective squawked, "A nadverb will confuse you **more** **bad** than I ever could." " _Rawwk!_ Listen to _him_ ," the nadverb screeched, "and he'll put you in a **more** **badly** confusion." "Arrr! it be a crime how they squawk so **ungrammatical**. _That_ be the problem," Blackbeard cursed, catching his reflection in the pondering. "The nadjective is squawking into my nadverbial ear, and the nadverb is screeching into my nadjectrivial ear." [he switches them to curses all round] 'Arrr, that be better. _Now_ be forming your comparrotives and suparrotives, each in your _own_ birdbrained ways, and inform me, 'the notorious blunderer,' of your differences." " _Awwk!_ " the nadjective squawked, "I mostly add **–er** onto my tail to make myself irresistibly comparrotive, and **–est** to make myself suparrotive. **Cute** , I make myself **cuter** , then **cutest**. Growing up into two pollysyllables I go from **handsome** to **handsomer** to my suparrotive **handsomest** —unless I opt to get **more handsome** and **most handsome**. Growing up into three pollysyllables or _more_ , __ I use **more** and **most** to be **more beautiful** , **most beautiful**. But if I'm irregular and in a **bad** mood, I'll go to a **worse** , then my **worst** mood. Were I, like one parrot I know, **ugly** , _I_ 'd find a way to get **less ugly** then **least ugly**." " _Rawwk!_ what a bird blowhard. I do my nadverbial **–er, -est** thing too. Normally arriving **soon** , I'll get there **sooner** , **** then **soonest**. But mostly I do my **–ly** thing **beautifully** , **more beautifully** , **most beautifully**. Though I sometimes squawk **badly** of a certain conceited parrot, and sometimes **worse** , _mostly_ I squawk my suparrotive **worst** about that loud, _egotistical birdbrain_." " _Arrr!"_ Blackbeard (whom the two couldn't Teach a thing about calm-parrotives) cursed, "You two confuse me so **terrible bad** , that I most think I'm a **badly** parrot with a pirate on each shoulder."

**Do not use an adjective to modify another adjective**

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_The Tree of Knowledge, with Eve's help, adds to_ ** _Adam_** _'s knowing._

"Adam, I make all your **skillful** **tailored** clothes—and the first close I made for you was the _door_ back to the fig leaf. And since you're a **handy** **made** add-jective I _dress_ you in **adjectives**. I sense I should dress you in adverbs modifying **adjectives** , since two **adjectives** clash, like blue and green. But I wouldn't dress you up in an adverb for the world, new as it is. Adverbs are always cozying up to verbs all too often linked with _action—_ and you get all you need of that at home, though God knows it's no Eden . . ."

67. She Modified Him with But Adjectives

Ejected, naked, from their garden Eden

For an apple _she_ had eaten (she'd an

Urge), Eve, Adam got the old heave-ho

From God, and cried, "Oh where on earth to—" _Go!_

Disgraced, distraught, with banished last word _Leave!_

With naught upon them but their sinning, Eve,

As they stood naked in their her- and himage,

Cried, "That's it— _leave_ —shape our public image.

Adam, we'll each add unto our frame

A _fig leaf_ —so—to hide our source of shame."

So added, Adam saw that he was _Add_ am,

Thanks to his add-onto-Adam madam,

Which made, adding their ejection, each

Of them an add _-_ jective. _Some_ part of speech

His own turned out to be! She told him flat

Out, " _Adam!_ —you're not going out like _that_!

Add suit and shirt and tie— _cologne_ —and shoes

—And _socks_ and . . ." Thus learned Addam: **Do not use**

**An add-jective to modify another**

**Add-jective** [but what could he do other].

Wheresoever Addam and Eve wandered thereafter, they were both the most **fashionable** **add-tired**. One night Eve was **exceptional quick** to say, when they were going out the door **smart** **dressed** : "Look, just because you won the 'Beast Dressed' award— _again_ —doesn't mean your **sartorial** **resplendent** nibs is free to be on your **beast** **bad** behavior. You're _not._ " Monkey-suited Addam (wardrobe by Eve) was **exceeding wise** not to argue with "her ribs" (he'd learned **terrible** **fast** not to rub it in that she was just his rib) and **shrewd** **careful** not to press his suit to return to the **high casual** fig-leaf look. So a dyed-in-the-will Eve went on: "You know I make all your **skillful** **tailored** clothes—and the first item of closing I made for you was the _door_ back to the fig leaf. And since you're a **handy** **made** add-jective I _dress_ you in **adjectives**. I sense I should dress you in adverb modifying **adjective** since two **adjectives** clash, like blue and green. But I wouldn't dress you in an adverb for the world, new as it is. Adverbs are always cozying up to verbs all too often linked with _action—_ and you get all you need of that at home, though God knows it's no Eden. I'd say I never dress you in adverbs, but I'd be dressing you in one of the things I say I never **** dress you in. So whenever I make a new **adjective** for you out of the hide of an addvark, I say something like, 'That looks **real** **swell** on you, hon,' or 'That's an **awful** **nice** look on you, dear.' And you say something like, 'Are we going out to another **good-known** eatery with that **new met happy** **married** couple' And I say, ' _NO!_ We're going out a **spiffy** **dressed** couple in our new add-tire to show off my **true** **blest full** **developed** figure and your **powerful** **muscled** body.' " "Couldn't we do that in **stylish** **hip** fig leaves?" Addam thought to say, but, luckily, thought **real** **quick** _Shut up!_

**Be accurate in using words that may be either adjectives or adverbs**

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**_John Paul the Second_** _, aspiring to be Pope, is sure ("A **sure** bet") that God is in his corner. _

"O **kindly** Father, I pray you will look upon me kindly and make me _Pope_ **** John Paul the Second. **** It is a **pretty** pass I have come to in life, being a lowly cut man, but I am pretty sure you will do the **right** thing and do right by me. A **long** shot, I pray it won't be long in coming. The **wrong** man got it last time, but I am sure you won't do wrong a second time. (A **close** call, I know I must have come close to getting the job.) All-seeing, you see that I am the **best** person for the job, and I can only trust that you will do as you see best. . . ."
**  
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68. A Cut Man, He Was Not Cut Out for Pope

John Paul the Second (to a boxer), young,

Had **adjectives** (or adverbs?) on his tongue.

He'd faith they'd keep his soul, these modifiers,

Either or, out of the body fires

(Pugitory). He was pugilistic,

So prayed to be Number-Two Head Mystic

Of the Roman Pugilistic Church

(God sewed up Number One), and from this perch

Be Every Body's Cut Man/Head Congealer

(Life's cruel head cuts)/Every Body's Healer.

John Paul prayed, "O God of Fisticuffs,

Make _me_ Head Second, Healer of Life's Toughs,

That I might stanch their wounds, and save their souls

From Pugitory— _damnedest_ of all doles!

Pray, kindly let me cure them, as Head Cure-it,

**Kindly** God." God moved to so assure it:

Made him _curate_ , boxed him in, no hope,

_Assistant_ to some priest, of being pope.

**Be a curate in using words** **, he learned,**

**That may be adjectives or adverbs**, burned _._

An **early** riser, John Paul the Second arrived early to church. His **daily** habit was to say his prayers daily, and being **fast** he said them fast. **High** on faith, he prayed to God living high above: "O **kindly** Father, I pray you will look upon me kindly and see fit to make me _Pope_ **** John Paul the Second. **** It is a **pretty** pass I have come to in life, being a lowly cut man, but I am pretty sure (a **sure** bet) you'll do the **right** thing and do right by me. A **long** shot, I pray it won't be long in coming. The **wrong** man got it last time, but I am sure you won't do wrong a second time. (A **close** call, I know I must have come close to getting the job.) I know you see that I am the **best** person for the job, and I can only trust you will do as you see best. It is a **little** patronage that would trouble you little to grant. Though **most** aspirants wouldn't, I would wax most grateful. __ A **fair** God of **far** vision, I know you will be fair with me, and see (now) that I'd make, by far, the best pope. I've had a **hard** life. (Does this strike you hard?) Of **deep** faith (a **dead** ringer for a saint), I know you hold me deep in your heart, dead **** sure I'd make a great pope. If it's a **direct** appointment, I could fly direct to Rome. Not a **short** trip, you can be sure I won't fall short of your expectations. A **sharp** dresser, I could be there at 4 a'pope sharp. (It's not a **late** flight, so you can rest assured I won't arrive late.) We could have a **leisurely** talk as we stroll leisurely about St. Peter's Square. You would see that I have more than **enough** credentials and that I am certainly qualified enough for the job." God, seeing that John Paul was second to none in being accurate in using words that can be either adjectives or adverbs, wisely left him in that secondary post. Being a **straight** talker, he went straight **** to Cardinal Ratzinger (in Germany) and spake thus: _Congratulations . . . Pope Benedict_.

**After such verbs as _appear_ , _be_ , _become_ , _feel_ , _look_ , _seem_ , _smell_ , _taste_ , the modifier should be an adjective if it refers to the subject, an adverb if it describes or defines the verb**

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**_President Verb Art Hoover_** _addresses "Hooverville," 1931._

"My fallow Americans, the Dirty Thirties may _appear_ **dirty** ( **adjective** modifying subject 'Dirty Thirties'), but you have to admit they _appear_ clearly (adverb modifying verb 'appear') the previous administration's fault. This may _sound_ **depressing** , but don't you think it _sounds_ depressingly like I'm trying to get across to you that the modifier that follows any of these sense/state of being verbs should be an **adjective** if it refers to the subject, an adverb if it describes or defines the verb? God bless Amiracle!"

69. They Modified "The Verb" out of a Job

The "Dirty Thirties" had to have its scapegoat.

Dust Bowl voters itched for an "escape" vote

(Unemployment at an all-time high;

Window-jumpers kissing all goodbye.

A dirty time all round). And so he, Herbert

"Verb Art" Hoover, put to work his verb art:

Made things _look, appear, feel, seem_ to _be_

Upon the road to full recovery.

Hell, Verb Art Hoover made things _taste_ and _smell_

As though good times were to _become_ as well.

Come '32 (and no relief), the mob

Vote-modified the Verb—"OUT!" _—_ of a job,

And damned him too, the subject of their ires,

With most damning Verb Art modifiers,

Yet not mixing __ them, for they could see

**The modifier after verbs like _be_ ,**

**_Become_ , _look_ , _seem_ , _feel_ , _taste_ , _appear_ , and _smell_ ,**

**Should be an adjective if it** —"To _Hell!_ "—

**Refers to the** curst **subject** Herb; **an adverb**

**If it** — _"OUT!"—_ **describes, defines "the** BAD **Verb**!"

"My fallow Americans, the Dirty Thirties may _appear_ **dirty** ( **adjective** modifying subject 'Dirty Thirties'), but you have to admit they _appear_ clearly (adverb modifying verb 'appear') the previous administration's fault. And while they may _seem_ **tenacious** , __ the fact that they've been granted tenure for a ten-year period will assure they stay—tenaciously. If they are beginning _to prove_ **tiresome** , I can only hope it's an indictment against me that will not _prove_ tiresomely repetitious. You contend that, as a direct consequence of this ten-year depression, the economy, the country, and especially my political career _are_ anything but **healthy** , but I urge you to consider that this decade and economic downturn _is_ healthily on its way to its full ten-year term. And while I can't say they _seem_ **certain** to prosper, I can say they _seem_ certainly **** hopeless. __ This may _sound_ **depressing** , but don't you think it _sounds_ depressingly like a joint sense/state of the union address in which I, Verb Art Hoover, am trying to inform you about the verbs associated with the five senses ( _look_ , _sound_ , _smell_ , _feel_ , _taste_ ) and those that express a state of being ( _be_ , _appear_ , _seem_ , _prove_ , _become_ , _remain_ , _get_ , _grow_ , _keep_ , _resemble_ , _run_ , _stay_ , __ and _turn_ )? Believe me, I would not lie here in state **alive** (not much!), but I wouldn't hesitate to lie here lifelessly. A Capitol Verb, what I'm trying to get across to you is this: the modifier that follows any of these sense/state verbs should be an **adjective** if it refers to the subject, an adverb if it describes or defines the verb. And since my humble remains continue _to_ _remain_ **modest** , I trust you'll see a fit to allow the Verb _to remain_ modestly **** at your service, because, my fallow Depressive-Americans, the economy _is_ **strong** , __ I _am_ **strong** , the sense/state of the union _is_ **strong** —all things that I, Verb Art Hoover, _feel_ strongly about. God bless Amiracle!"

**The comparative is used for comparing two persons or objects or actions; the superlative is used for comparing more than two**

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**_Tevye_** _, Fiddler on the Commandment, with marriage-ripe daughters Hodel, Tzeitl, Chava._

"From this I should get a moral? God, this is the respect I get for trying to arrange a good marriage for all three? For saying to each prospective _mensch_ (I should be shmoozing a _nogoodnik_?), 'Of my three daughters, Tzeitel, Chava, and Hodel, which one do you like **better**?' " _No, NO, **NO!**_ _You thought maybe to fiddle with one of my most written-in-stone commandments—and make it **better**? You thought maybe when I had Moses chisel it in stone and deliver it from the mount that I was not at my thou-shalt-notting **best**?. . ._
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70. _Three Calls for the Superlative_ , God Cried

Old Tevye (Fiddler on the Roof) had daughters

Three he wanted to be tie-the-knotters.

So he called on Yente the matchmaker:

"Find a nice young hand-in-marriage-taker

For each." So with custom-marry flair

Old Yente said to Tevye's three, "Come, _pair_

With each nice match I've made for you!" but Tzeitel,

Chava, Hodel sought _love_ —object vital!

"Yente, you're a fine 'Come, _pair_ 'ative,

But _we_ would choose the men with whom we'll live!"

"Oy vay! _all three_ have shunned the marriage matches

Yente's made for them, the nice young catches,"

Tevye cried to God. _Of course they did,_

God, wroth, replied, _you put **three** up for bid._

_You should have called on Lative, yea, the super-_

**_tri_** _-matchmaker—you'd **one more** than two per_

_Marriage-maker—you could not but err._

_Yea, **The 'Come, pair'ative's used to 'Come, pair'**_

**_Two persons' objects, actions, and the su-_**

**_per Lative for 'Come, pair'ing more than two_** _._

"From this I should get a moral?" Tevye inquires looking heavenward. "That one should not fiddle with matchmaking while the poem burns—of _love_? This is the respect I get for trying to arrange a good marriage for all three? For saying to each prospective _mensch_ (I should be shmoozing a _nogoodnik_?), 'Of my daughters three, Hodel, Tzeitel, Chava, which one do you like **better**?' " [the heavens resound with ear-splitting thunder, and a sizzling bolt of lightning strikes to the rear of Tevye] _No, NO, **NO!**_ God himself thunders. _This is what you learned—from your own poem—to use the 'Come, **pair** 'ative **better**_ ****_with_ ****_more than two persons, objects, or actions—when you should have used the super Lative **best** :_ _which one do you like **best**? You thought maybe to fiddle with one of my most written-in-stone commandments—and make it **better**? You thought maybe when I had Moses chisel it in stone and deliver it from the mount that I was not at my thou-shalt-notting **best**? Wherefore I ask unto you, Tevye, fiddler with commandments: Of the three questions which I have just asked of you, which one do you think bodes **worst** (not **worse** ) for you? _Tevye, seeing that God was upset enough to speak in italics, thought he'd **better** if not **best** answer—but _which_? __ "O God," he ventured, "had you asked me only two such rhetorical questions (showing that things were going **badly** for this fiddling _schlimazel_ ) I might have concluded that things had gone from **bad** to _'which bodes **worse**?'_ But since you have asked me _three_ , I can only surmise that you meant things had gone from **bad** to _'which bodes **worst**?' _" _Yea, verily, that is a match made in having_ , __ God unthundered. _You are quite the superlative fiddler after all, Tevye_. "What," Tevye responded, "you thought maybe from my own verse I should have learned 'Come, _pair_ 'itively nothing?"

**Avoid double comparatives and superlatives**

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**_Double Agent (Oh-oh!)7_** _does a double Double-double burn._

_"That's it!_ I've had it to such a **more doubler** degree with having a double that I've got to have one every double of hours just to get **more calmer**. And to think I'm paying my double _double time_ only drives me **ultra-crazier**. My Double persona is double manly, but _his_ double Double persona is **more** **manlier** yet. Every time we double up on a double blind date (a double feature we have to double park for) our double Double dates are **doubly goo-gooer** about my Double double, making me **twice as jealouser** . . ."

71. His Double Was a Double Negative

Suave Agent (Oh-oh!)7 had a double,

And his share of secret agent trouble

On Her Majesty's hush secret service,

And began to be made doubly nervous.

Licensed, he himself, to kill (with lead),

His double (oh-oh!) _double_ -knocked 'em dead,

And double Double (oh-oh!) caused to bleed

Adoring hearts—by his romantic _lead_ ;

Put double, twice, _two_ times the (Oh-oh!)7

Hearts in double Double (oh-oh!) heaven!

Agent (Oh-oh!)7 fired his double.

"Double (oh-oh!) manly facial stubble,

He got double Double _aah!_ s __ and _ooh!_ s,

And double Double 'Hubba- _hubba!_ 's—TWOs.

Yet worse, faint hearts all hurled at _him_ , my double

( _Double_ double Double toil and trouble!)

'No compeer!' ' _Superlative_ times two!'

This taught me, Agent (Oh-oh!)7: _Do_

**Avoid all double** __ (oh-oh!—where one _lives_ )

**'Compeer'atives and**—worst **—** **'Superlative!'s** _._

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_"That's it!"_ Double Agent (Oh-oh!)7 snapped, "I've had it to such a **more doubler** limit with having a double that I've got to have one every double of hours just to get **more calmer**. And to think I'm paying my double _double time_ only drives me **ultra-crazier**. My Double persona is Double manly, but _his_ double Double persona is **more** **manlier** yet. Every time we double up on a double blind date (a double feature we have to double park for) our double Double dates are **doubly goo-gooer** about my double, making me **twice as jealouser**. **** While I have a manly double chin, they always think my double's _double_ Double chin is way **more chinzier**. If I mix our double dates double drinks, he mixes them _double_ double drinks that are **more doubler** yet. I'm he-manly, but they think he's **double more he-manlier**. My sensuous double-jointed fingers and toes are in the digital double digits, but they always think my double's _double_ Double digits **extra** **'Dig-it!'er** —as if these double 'Golding Girls' were nothing but double gold standard gold _diggers_ , comparatively doublespeaking. It puts my mere Double figure, no matter how double-breasted in double-knit, in comparative Double jeopardy. All before these two ever get to doubling up on their _superlatives_ : 'Oh, don't you think Double Double Agent (Oh-oh!)7 is just the **most** **hunkiest** double Double agent you've ever double–double-Double-dated?' 'And his double Double talk about riding the double double-deckers and living large in a luxurious double double-wide! Don't you think he's just the **utmost** **double dreamies—** ' _' **Most definitely NOTest**!'_ I'm double-quick to doublespeak for them both. "I don't have no double doubt that having _ever_ had a double is the **utmost** **double Double negativest** thing I've ever done done—and that goes **twice as** **most doublest** for ****_good night-night!_ "

**Avoid including the subject compared if the subject is part of the group with which it is being compared**

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**_Oreo James Simpson_** _doing everything in his black-on-the-outside-white-on-the-inside power to avoid being lumped in with his black "peers."_

"Coalescing upon jury nullification, you Anthracite-American lumpkins failed to see that you shouldn't lump the lump of coal being compared in with the lumps with which it's being compared. You can't see the injustice of _I, Oreo James Simpson, am guiltier than anyone in the courtroom_ , which screams bloody murder that _I_ (in the courtroom) am guiltier than myself. Impossible! It doesn't fit. You can't see that for justice to prevail, it should be _I, Oreo James Simpson, am guiltier than any **other** in the courtroom_ . . ."

72. Avoid Comparing Him to _Them_ , He Sneered

No, O. J. Simpson, calm, had none, no fears

Of being judged by jury (his calm peers)

For _double murder_ ; no, he had a "Dream

Team" of slick lawyers, _crème de_ legal cream.

To save O. J.'s guilt-written-on-his-face hard,

Johnny Silvertongue played his hole race card.

Faced with all the damning DNA,

Glib Johnny knew it was the _only_ way

Of saving O. J.'s black face ( _white_ each victim).

Guess. His black calm peers did not convict him.

Oreo James Simpson, though, was black

_Outside_ —white as a Ku Klux crackerjack

On Bel Air inside—what had _he_ to do

With being black; proof? _white_ his each golf shoe.

Still, O. J. was their subject of black pride:

"The L. A. cops, the DNA all _lied_.

He's _black_ as driven coal!" (such self-deluding).

His calm peers saw not: **Avoid including**

**Subject calm-peered if the subject's** [CLEARED!]

**Part of a group with which it is calm-peered**.

Simpson sneered: "Having racially, shamefully coalesced upon jury nullification, you coal-black lumpkins failed to see that one, much less _twelve_ , shouldn't lump the lump of coal being compared in with the lumps with which it's being compared. A lump like me doesn't want _anything_ to do with lumps like you who only serve to remind me that I'm black—oh, yes, and get me off on the blackest of black-hearted double murder charges. You can't see the injustice of a sentence such as _I, Oreo James Simpson, am guiltier than anyone in the courtroom._ You don't see the illogic of this, which bloody screams that _I_ (in the courtroom) am guiltier than myself. You twelve lumps, burning to set me, your lumpish 'compeer' free, didn't see that for logic—and justice—to prevail the sentence should read _I, Oreo James Simpson, am guiltier than any **other** in the courtroom_. (The others are guilty of _something_.) I mean, c'mon, people—but not _my_ people—how could I possibly be guiltier than myself? Also, despite seeing red (the blush of nullifying shame), you coalescing twelve were such let-me-out-and-out blackguards that you failed to see any injustice in the sentence _Not guilty_ —which even a child, who may be lumped in with that clear-eyed demographic who know graphic crime when they see it, can see beyond a reasonable doubt is an elliptical sentence in which _You are_ is understood. Therefore, let all who so wish to see justice done jump up and scream, _'YOU ARE! You are all guiltier than the guiltiest in Hell!'_ Meaning you're guiltier than yourselves— _which you are!_ _You just let a **bloody double murderer** go free!_ For which you are hereby sentenced to eternal scorn. Even a lumpkin couldn't fail to see the justice in that. Well, cheerio.j., lumps, I'm off to White Sands, FL, where the heat and humidity, ya gotta love it, is _double_ _murder_."

**Use adjectives and adverbs with restraint**

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**_George Strait_** _in the Strait jacket that won him "Best-stressed Country Singer." Unable to pick any sad notes on his guitar, he still picks his sadjectives and his sadverbs with heartrending restraint._

"Don't come crying to me," Shorthand Sweet, George's No. 1 songwriter, groused. "Take the first No. 1 hit I wrote for you, _Fool-hearted Memory_. Do you leave it be? No, Straitways you open your BIG mouth, out comes _Confounded, all-fired, plum stupid, dad-blamed dopey, fool-hearted memory, and danged forgetful remembrance_." "I thought it needed a little gussyin' up." "I guess you _did_. It's a damn good thing I had that baseball bat in hand and was able to knock the fool sadjectives and sadverbs out of you. . . ."

73. He Still Could Pick His Sad Words With Restraint

Throughout his maudlin musical career

In country music, George Strait had an ear

For sad, sad songs, and sang of his desires

And disappointments with sad modifiers

Of nouns and verbs. With fifty-two no less

Of No. 1 hit singles, all the stress

Of topping Conway Twitty's fifty-five

(Then, Conway was still very much alive)

So put George through the No. 1-hit wringer,

He was voted best-stressed country singer.

George had his own con-way: sadly sage,

So best-stressed, he did not set foot on stage

(For all his reputation hung upon)

Without his best-stressed George Strait jacket on,

With, each time, the predictable result

That George Strait found himself in difficult

Straits to pick out a tune on his guitar,

But still his sad, sad words graced every bar.

He knew (and it was his career complaint):

**Use sadjectives, use sadverbs with restraint**.

"Well don't come crying to me," Shorthand Sweet, George's No. 1 songwriter, said with not a trace of sympathy. (George was playing his same old sad, sad broken record of not being able to top Conway's.) "Just thank your lucky stars over Texas that, thanks to me, you've had fifty-two—not _one_ of which you'd've had if I hadn't 'talked' sense into you. Take the first No. 1 hit I wrote for you, _Fool-hearted Memory_. Do you leave it be? No, Straitways you open your BIG mouth and out comes _Confounded, all-fired, plum stupid, dad-blamed dopey, fool-hearted memory, and more 'n' more forgetful remembrance_." "I thought it needed a little gussyin' up." "I guess you _did_. It's a damn good thing I had that baseball bat in hand and was able to knock the sadjectives and sadverbs out of you. Well, I thought I had you convinced that less is more, so I write you another short and sweet No. 1, _All My Exes Live in Texas_. The next thing I know you're singin' _Most all my long-lost, long-gone, not terribly badly missed exes live large and largely in big old lone-star-state Texas._ Again I'm batting 1.000. You come around, so I write you another sure-fire No. 1, _Hollywood Squares_ , which Straitway becomes _Really Unhip, Not-with-it-at-all, Far-left-wing Pinko Commie, Tree-huggin' Hollywood Squares_ , which no amount of hard batting practice can deter you from. And just how far 'up' did it chart?" "No. 67." "No. _67_ , right! But like a fool I pen you my most foolproof No. 1 of all time, _Overnight Male,_ which becomes _Expressly overnight, one-night-standin', categorically insincere and characteristically flighty male_. Which got to? . . . " "70," " _70!_ And what got it up _that_ high?" "I couldn't pick out any notes on my gui-tar sad enough to go with my sadjectives and sadverbs, my hands bein' tied behind my best-stressed George Strait-jacketed back."

11. Conjunctions

_Verily, I am fed up being a conjunction: man and woman cannot break bread together but they must say unto me, "Would you care to join us?"_

—Join the Baptist

_Beauty and wisdom make a rare conjunction._

—Petronius Arbiter

**Your Go-to Go-Between for _Four_ Connections**

"Connecting, joining, linking groups of words

Who group up, well, like elephants, in 'heards'

Called _clauses_ , __ both subordinate **and** main,

Is what I do so brilliantly again

**And** then again, **for** I am a conjunction,

**And** , I must say, whiz-bang at my function,

**Whether** I join by coordinating,

**Or** I link them by subordinating,

**Or** as I just did by (to perfection!)

**Whether . . . or** correlative connection.

" **Nonetheless** , **** sometimes I will assume

**(Whenever** I've conjunctive elbow room)

My grand conjunctive adverb form **because**

I sometimes tire of joining every clause

As **but** a plain conjunction **—but** take care!

I'm a _conjunction_ ; you must be aware:

You can't push me around—don't even try—

The way you can an adverb (don't ask why).

I see two clauses, I just _must_ enjoin them,

**So** I get between— **and** start enjoy'n' them."

**And** _what_ conjunctions they are, darlings! Oh dear! Who can see what I did wrong there? Yes, good, Connie-Jung! I started a sentence with a conjunction. **And** I not only started a sentenc—look, I've just done it again!—I started a whole _paragraph_. __**But** is it so terribly wrong to start a—well, I'll be! There I go again. **For** the love of Pete—will I never learn? **And yet** I've just done it _again_! O God, I'm getting _worse_ : I just started one with _two_. **So** I guess what I'm saying, my precious charges, is _no_ , it is _not_ wrong, no **if** s, **and** s, or **but** s, to start a sentence with a conjunction. **Nor** is it wrong to start one with two. **Or** is it? **If** it's not—well now if that doesn't beat everything! I no sooner said "no **if** s, **and** s, or **but** s" than I go and start a sentence with **If**. **Yet** it could have been triply worse. I could have started out, ' **But for so** long now have I been doing it that . . . .' **So** I think I'd better quit while I'm ahead. **And if only because** Menachem Begin, Saddam Hussein, and Yasser Arafat will have much more to say about this old wives' tale in due course, I shall.

Oh good! I'm **so** glad that fit of conjunctivitis is over. Now we can concentrate on your committing the _coordinating conjunctions_ ( **and** , **but** , **for** , **nor** , **or** , **yet** , **so** ) to memory. Who can tell us an easy mnemonic for remembering them? Learner? **FANBOYS** _._ Yes, well that's a good enough acronym for you **boys** who are **fans** of the girls (if not now you will be). But what about one for you girls? Pupilla? **BOYFANS** _._ **** Yes, the very thing.

Well, now that you won't ever forget your coordinating conjunctions, let us concentrate on drilling into your empty noodles the _subordinating conjunctions_ ( **after** , **although** , **as** , **because** , **before** , **even if** , **if only** , **in order that** , **once** , **rather than** , **since** , **so that** , **till** , **unless** , **until** , **when** , **whenever** , **where** , **whereas** , **wherever** , **while** ), to name just a few. Who can tell us an easy mnemonic for them? . . . What, no one? Well, that's because _there isn't one_ , is there? No, you just have to _memorize_ them—every last one by one.

There there, stop your bawling. You'll be delighted to learn that there are so very many _conjunctive adverbs_ , such as **again** , **also** , **although** , **certainly** , **consequently** , **finally** , **for instance** , **furthermore** , **instead, likewise** , **meanwhile** , **nevertheless** , **of course** , **still** , **regardless** , **similarly** , **therefore** , **too** , **unless** , **while** , to lightly skim the surface, that you are mercifully forgiven committing them to memory. Oh, and it's a good thing _I_ have a memory, isn't it? otherwise I would have completely forgotten to mention the _correlative conjunctions_ that only come in pairs: **as . . . as** ; **both . . . and** ; **either . . . or** ; **neither . . . nor** ; **not . . . but** ; **not only . . . but also** ; **whether . . . or** —oh, and **mother . . . father**. Now then, I trust you can remember those few—what's that? _You didn't know **mother . . . father** were correlative conjunctions?_ Oh, that's right! How addlepated of me to go lumping in those conjoining core relatives that only come in parents (sigh). Oh, yes, and

**The Novel Rules of Conjunctions**

**Jerry Lee Lewis, Myra Gale Brown**

Correlative conjunctions should correlate only two ideas

**Con-way Twitty**

Distinguish among the meanings of conjunctions and conjunctive adverbs

**Amelia Earhart, Solo Claus**

Avoid joining words or phrases or dependent clauses with a conjunctive adverb

**Cautious Clay**

Be cautious in using _like_ as a subordinating conjunction

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Clauses**

**Klaws Kinski, Rumpelteazer**

Join two independent clauses with a conjunction

**Commas**

**the Virgin Mary, Joseph**

If a parenthetic expression is preceded by a conjunction, place the first comma before the conjunction, not after it

**Semicolons**

**Dr. Laura**

Use the semicolon to split up independent clauses not joined by a conjunction

**Rules of Thumb—But Not Me!**

**Menachem Begin, Saddam Hussein, Yasser Arafat**

Do not begin a sentence with a conjunction

**Correlative conjunctions should correlate only two ideas**

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_Rock 'n' roll's bad boy_ ** _Jerry Lee Lewis_** _hitches 13-year-old cousin Myra Gale Brown to form a scandalous co-relative conjunction._

"Myra Gale, they call me 'The Killer,' but it was your _third_ idea, to get married because you were wearing your apron high, that was the _killer_. I'd already had me two killer ideas (committing bigamy, and marrying my cousin), and it was your third one that drove the final nail in our marital coffin. Us being related by blood and all, you should've seen that since I'd gotten hitched to you by way of a co-relative conjunction, and you'd gotten hitched to me likewise, that that made _two_ co-relative conjunctions, and . . ."

74. Correlative Conjunctions Don't Hitch Three

Old Jerry Lee "Great Balls of Fire" Lewis

Said to his flame, "Baby, let's 'I do' us,"

Though his "baby" (Myra Gale Brown) cousin

Was but one year older than a dozen

—This, though Jerry Lee was then still wed

Up to his second wife. They up and fled.

Though bigamy was 'one' fell-on-knee crime,

It seemed a good idea at the time.

He also thought, old Jerry Lee, it was an-

other good idea: wed one's cousin.

For her co-related part, by blood,

Young Myra Gale (her tears came in a flood)

Thought it a good idea, she with child,

To wed her older cousin, though a wild

Piano-playing man without compunction,

Cure the illegitimate conjunction.

Doomed, their marriage, thus, right from the start:

They should've known _three_ 'd make it fall apart:

**Co-relative conjunctions** (panaceas,

Cures) **should co-relate but _two_ ideas**.

"Great Balls of fire, Myra Gale!" old Jerry Lee (he was twenty-three) shouted. "I may be 'The Killer,' but it was your _third_ idea, to get married because you were wearing your apron high, that was the _killer_. I'd already had me two killer ideas (committing bigamy, and marrying my cousin), and it was your third one that drove the final nail in our marital coffin. Us being related by blood and all, you should've seen that since I'd gotten hitched to you by way of a co-relative conjunction, and you'd gotten hitched to me likewise, that that made _two_ co-relative conjunctions. Besides, since _co-relative conjunctions should co-relate no more'n two ideas_, and I'd already had me two of those, you should've seen that it was your sole responsibility to make sure you didn't get that third one of yours in your head, sealing our fate." What Myra Gale did see was that contemplating _all_ of that only made her co-related head spin round all the more. "Could I see that little old rule in _one_ sentence, Jerry Lee?" she inquired. "Sure you can, baby," Jerry Lee sang out, jumping up on the ole py-anee to pound out the melody with his hands, the pulsating rhythm with his feet: ** __** " ** _Both_** _Jerry Lee's first idea, his second idea, **and** Myra Gale's third idea were the kiss of fate_. You see, baby, someone should've seen fit to drop the **_Both_** to make that old sentence work." "Or," Myra Gale jumped in with hers, some _'more'n'_ shouldn't have made such an idea _hog_ of himself, and had _two_ harebrained ideas to another's one! But since he _did_ , __ he might've at least had the decents to _drop_ one, 'cause now **_neither_** _your **** first **** idea, your second idea— **nor** any amount of your harebrained ideas—can save our marriage._" "Well _course_ not, Myra Gale. But if you'd dropped either 'your first idea' or 'your second idea,' your ol' co-relative fireball would've worked just fine . . . baby."

**Distinguish among the meanings of conjunctions and conjunctive adverbs**

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_Recording con artist_ ** _Con-way Twitty_** _cons his latest No. 1 hit, Loretta Lynn, into a No. 1 hit conjunction._

_"Wah!_ H-H-How could you have been so _m-m-mean_ —Conning me into believing I was your No. 1—and _only_ —wh-wh-when there were _all_ those others?" " _How_ , darlin'? Here, let me show you: _I've had fifty-five No. 1s so far, **because** with a good deal of Conning I'll soon have number fifty-six._ See how I conned you as to meaning? I _meaned_ what I said—and meaned _you_ badly too—but I didn't say exactly what I _meant_ : _I've had fifty-five No. 1s so far; **still** , with a little more Conning I'll soon have number fifty-six._ . . ."

75. Distinguishing Among His Cons, He Meaned Her

Sly Con-way Twitty _Conned_ his way atop

The old make-music charts—no one could stop

Him; he was on a roll of Con-joined hons:

The man had _fifty-five_ "Yes!" No. 1s!

He Conned each No. 1 into the marriage

Stating that her over-threshold carriage

Would be No. 1—he'd not performed

Such music-making that was so her-formed

Before—not once; he'd not been one to carry

One "1" over one by verb to marry.

Each "1" soon found Con-way adding _add_ -verbs

To to marry—and they all were _bad_ verbs:

Flirt and __ cheat and, worse, adulterate

With (sob!) _another_ No. 1 wed-mate!

How soon "1" found "It's only _make-believe_.

How _could_ Con be so **mean** as to deceive

Me—all our No. 1 love dash, extinguish—

For (sob!) Number _'Hon'_ —dread!—oh, **Distinguish**

'1's, **among** Con's **meanings** (they're such sad verbs)

**Of Con-junctions and Con-junctive add-verbs**!"

_"Wah!"_ the latest No. 1 sobbed, reaching the top of the crying charts. "H-H-How could you have been so _m-m-mean_ —Conning me into believing I was your No. 1—and _only_ —wh-wh-when there were _all_ those others?" " _How_ , darlin'? Well, heck, my 1 unonly, here, let me show you: _I've had fifty-five No. 1s so far, **because** with a good deal of Conning I'll soon have number fifty-six._ Did y'all see how I conned you as to meaning? I _meaned_ what I said—and meaned _you_ pretty badly too—but I didn't say exactly what I _meant_ , which was _I've had fifty-five No. 1s so far; **still** , with a little more Conning I'll soon have number fifty-six._ You see, darlin', conjunctions and conjunctive adverbs, like people, get themselves involved in relationships, and unless a Con knows their meanings, he's going to _mean_ what he says, but not say what he means. Look, there are special connings for **time** ; **place** ; **condition** ; **concession** ; **contrast** ; **comparison** ; **example** ; **reason** ; **result** ; **purpose** ; **cause** ; **affirmative alternation** ; **negative alternation** ; **** and finally, just like soul mates, **along the same wavelength** —by which I never fail to distinguish myself among their meanings. Here's another: _I told every No. 1 she was Numero Uno, **except that** every 1 believed me_. See, that bold bit of conning was entirely the wrong meaning. What I meant was _I told every No. 1 she was Numero Uno, **and** every one believed me_. You see, darlin', every conjunction and conjunctive adverb has its own special meaning, which shows the correct relationship between the two it's joining together, **meanwhile** if a Con chooses the wrong one, just like I did there with **meanwhile** (I should've chosen **but** ), he can find himself in a whole mess of conjunctive troub— _hello, Darlin'_ —where'd y'all get that lowest of lowdown blues standards? You call that little ol' No. _357_ a _hit_?"

**Avoid joining words or phrases or dependent clauses with a conjunctive adverb**

****

** **

****

**_Amelia Earhart_** _sores with Solo Claus: he was far too independent to take her **and** in marriage; she too proud to take his **also**. Consequently, there was enough soring to go around the world. One of them wouldn't make it._

" _Ooooooh!_ What makes me _most_ sore about you—you unsoarbordinate Claus—is your impertinence, brazenness, cheek, **also** your not wanting to conjoin with me for that _other_ soaring—marriage—which is not my idea of a worthy Claus, especially one flying solo!" "Well what makes _me_ sore is that sore dependent clause of yours beginning with **also** ; that exasperating habit you have, Ms. _Errhead_ , of using a conjunctive adverb, like **also** , to conjoin clauses instead of a proper coordinating conjunction like **and**. . . ."

76. The Clauses Both Sore Over a Conjunction

Amelia Earhart's true love was to soar

Where aviatrix hadn't soared before.

She flew across the broad Atlantic Ocean,

Got the _fly-right-round-the-wide-world_ notion,

Cause for fear of soaring? Hardly. Knock-kneed?

Pah! She flew a late twin-engine Lockheed:

Highest clouds she blithely soared above;

But when it came to soaring earthly love,

She flew that flight so _lo_ she sorely soared,

_Her_ air heart the sole lonely one on— _bored_.

One Solo Claus, in soaring Reindeer Sleigh,

Soar-smitten, begged of her, "Amelia, say

You will: I'm soar-dependent on your love

Of flying—help me, _do_ , with your soar love:

Conjoin with me— _no_ , __ not by verb to marry;

Soar! and _aid_ me in my cause to carry

Gifts to children." Sore? She took to coining

Soring rhetoric: _" **Steer clear of joining**_

**_[Word-sore phrases] soar-dependent Clauses_**

**_By conjunctive aid-verb_** _."_ [lost, both causes]

_"Ooooooh!"_ Amelia sored. "What makes me _most_ sore about you—you unsoarbordinate Claus—is . . . is your impertinence, brazenness, cheek, **also** your not wanting to conjoin with me for that _other_ soaring—marriage—which is not my idea of a worthy Claus!" "Well what makes _me_ sore is that sore dependent clause of yours beginning with **also** ; that exasperating habit you have, Ms. _Errhead_ , of using a conjunctive adverb, like **also** , to conjoin clauses instead of a proper coordinating conjunction like **and**. You conjoin words and phrases that wrongheaded way too. You've a soaring gift for soreliloquies, one I couldn't help overhearing on your most recent flight of fancy: _Look! There go Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen, **furthermore** Rudolph._ A person would think, after all the hours you've logged in the err, that you'd have come to realize the pilot error of your conjoining ways and said _. . . **and** Rudolph. _Or, if you still insisted, stubbornly, on using a conjunctive adverb, _Look! There go Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen; **furthermore** , there goes Rudolph,_ making two independent clauses separated by a semicolon, with a comma after **_furthermore_**. Here's another of your gems: _That aerial menace, Solo Claus, is the worst pilot I've ever seen, **accordingly** he overshoots nine rooftops out of ten._ To err is human, to err _bigtime_ is Earhart. I thought you, having seen enough of me, would've said, _That aerial ace, Solo Claus, is the best pilot I've ever seen; **accordingly** , he only overshoots eight rooftops out of ten_." "Well at least I know better than to conjoin an independent Earhart with a hairy Claus— **besides** you're fat! I'd rather be lost at sea." "Too late for that. The moment you used a conjunctive adverb instead of a conjunction, I saw you were already lost at 'c.' "

**Be cautious in using _like_ as a subordinating conjunction**

****

** **

****

_I'm like_ ** _Cautious Clay_** _, but she's a caution. I got to liking her, like I told you, and—BOOM!—she just knocked me out. I dunno, maybe I like telegraphed my blows." _

"I'm so pretty, I'm like the _greatest_. Floating _like a butterfly,_ stinging _like a bee_ , I've had it knocked into my head that like shouldn't be used like a subordinating conjunction. But I'm not great on doing the likes of that. People'd start calling me like _Clauses_ Clay. I no sooner came out for like the first round when I got to liking my opponent. So I started in with my rope-a-dope, _like a big dope acts_ in front of dames, and _Boom!_ the lights went out. Coming to, I realized my mistake: I should've made sure the likes went out . . ."

77. Conjunction Made Him Like Subordinate

Young Cautious Clay, pre- ("I'm so pretty!") he

Became Muhammad " _What_ 's my name?" Ali,

Was that: a cautious boxer in a bout;

Was careful to make sure that he came out

On _top_ , and it was his opponent's fate

To be knocked _down_ , to be subordinate

When thrown together in conjunction with

Himself, know "I'm the greatest" was no myth;

And hear, stood over so, the greatest bray,

"You've just been whupped, fool—by the feat of Clay!"

He met a caution, Cautious, in a bout,

Thrown in conjunction, he could not knock out;

Whom he could not defeat—hard-hitting love

Of his life—one he could not rise above

("Float like a butterfly"). _Stung_ like a bee

All he could do was cry, "Gosh, you _like_ me?

"I _like_ you too, girl!" Cautious gushed that day,

And learned, hit hard, for all his feet of clay,

**Be _Cautious_ (a bout using** [such male unction]

**"Like" as a subordinate conjunction)**.

"I'm like so pretty, I'm like the _greatest_. That's 'cause, floating _**like** a butterfly, _stinging _**like** a bee_, I've had it knocked into my head that **like** is used **_like_** _a preposition_ with no following verb, and shouldn't be used as a subordinating conjunction joining like clauses of comparison. But I'm not great on doing the likes of that. People'd start calling me like _Clauses_ Clay. Still, I'm like the greatest at letting my guard down **_like_** _I was some fool unranked amateur—_ losing the title match. Instead of putting my right foot in front of my left, I put my wrong preposition **like** in front of my _subject_ and _verb_ instead of the _object_ of my affections. I don't know what came over me. It was like I completely forgot every tactic my trainer, Angelo Likely, had pummeled into my head about how **like** likes to begin a phrase that has a love _object_ (like **_like_** _a champ_ ); whereas as, or like conjunction, likes to begin a clause (like _as I came to_) containing a _subject_ and a _verb_ —which two don't like to be introduced by the likes of **like**. **** Well __ I no sooner came out for the first round and was introduced to my opponent when I got to liking her, **_like_** _I told you_. So I started in with my rope-a-dope, **_like_** _a big dope acts_ in front of dames, and _Boom!_ the lights went out. Coming to, I realized my mistake: I should've made sure the **likes** went out instead. The upshot was I _we_ ved when I should've just bopped her one and gotten out of the ring with my _I_ as wide shut as when I stepped in. And I would've, too, except it didn't strike me till after I was lovestruck, but by this time it was too late: I'd treated her _as a lady likes to be treated_, which is just **_like_** _a dame_ , and she whupped me good **_like_** _a champ— as I deserved—_and the bout was over. And that's why I, Cautious Clay, am like the greatest, meaning I'm only **like** the greatest. _She_ 's the greatest! Like I should care."

12. Prepositions

_The rule which forbids ending a sentence with a preposition is the kind of nonsense up with which I will not put._

—Winston Churchill

**_preposition,_** _n. **1.** A shifty word or group of words that goes into a revolving door **behind** you and comes out **way** **ahead** **of** you. **2.** A part of speech that ends a sentence and starts an argument._

—Lucifer's Lexicon

__

**Could This Just Be the Sought-for Missing Link?**

"I link, therefore I am; I go **before**

My object, which is either a noun or

A pronoun, sidle up and then let slip,

'My word, have I got _the_ relationship

**For** you! That word back there, you see the one

That's giving you the eye and hints **of** fun?

Well I can introduce you, and you'll be

**In** a relationship— **like** Flynnstantly!

Yes, I can link you up and you'll be bound

_F-a-s-t_ whether I am __ simple or compound.

" 'I seek not **after** dollars, nor **of** cents,

No, naught **like** monetary recompense.

I ask **but** _two_ grammatically small gains:

One, I must have an object **for** my pains;

Then I must form, **respecting** number two,

A prepositional phrase (close) **with** you,

So **by** our linking up, we, you and I,

That word back there can jointly modify.' "

"That's _all_ you prepositions think of—fresh!

[SLAP!] Link _that_ **to** your simple compound flesh!"

Oh dear! Class, what important life lesson can we learn from this? _That Prepositions shouldn't go before a noun or a pronoun, but should be a gentleman and hold the door open for her and courteously allow her to go first?_ Goodness no, Learner. Prepositions should _always_ go before the object of his affections, even at risk of seeming an out-and-out cad. Still, it was a good try, and you can go to the head of the prepositional phrase and find him there. No, the lesson here is that you are ideally pre-positioned to learn that there are any number of prepositions you must know in order to form proper relationships in life. And they are, in alphabetical order, **about** , **above** , **across** , **after** , **against** , **along** , **alongside** , **amid(st)** , **among(st)** , **around** , **at** , **before** , **behind** , **below** , **beneath** , **beside(s)** , **between** , **beyond** , **but** , **by** , **concerning** , **despite** , **down** , **during** , **ere** , **except** , **excepting** , **for** , **from** , **in** , **inside** , **into** , **like** , **near** , **notwithstanding** , **of** , **off** , **on** , **onto** , **outside** , **over** , **past** , **per** , **regarding** , **save** , **since** , **through** , **throughout** , **till** , **to** , **toward(s)** , **under** , **underneath** , **until** , **unto** , **up** , **upon** , **with** , **within** , **without**.

Oh joyous day—let the bells ring out! _Quick_ , __ someone, run **out of** the room, **through** the schoolyard, **past** the gate, **down** the road, **onto** the expressway, **across** the country, **up** the Capitol Hill, **into** the U. S. Congress and declare, "Wonderful to relate! Ms. Spinster, after all these years and as many failed attempts, has _at long last_ set a new world record by ending a sentence with _sixty_ prepositions (previous record one), and humbly petitions, 'Please to declare it a national holiday!' " What? _Wake them UP_? Well, I must say it's a novel idea, but . . . but . . . well, it's never ever been done that way before, has it? There's no telling _how_ long it could take if they actually took to debating it. No, we'd best stick with the long-established protocol of counting the yeaz-z-z-z-z-z-z-z over the continuous drone of the nayz-z-z-z-z-z-z-z. At least we know it works. What, back already? _It won buy-partisan approval—passing by more than two dozing votes_? Mirabile dictu!

Well then, since, as a fortunate result of my unflagging efforts, your little noodles are now bursting with _sixty_ newly acquired prepositions, who is more ideally positioned than you to place them before your object, __ which could be a noun ( **in** your _heads_ ); a pronoun ( **within** _them_ ); a prepositional phrase ( **down** _beneath the cranium_ ); a gerund phrase ( **by** _learning to read_ ); or a noun clause ( **from** _whatsoever homework I assign you_ )?

Now, since you previously learned that a preposition together with its object is called a _prepositional phrase_ , come, when such a phrase modifies a noun, how does it act? Eh, _like a fool_? __ Yes, it well may—but that is not the point. It acts like an _adjective_ , __ doesn't it? Look: Prose-Mary has a crush on Linkoln, the boy **_with_** _the freckles._ [modifies "boy"] Now, when such a phrase modifies a verb, how does it act? Yes, good, Adver-Bella—like an _adverbial_ fool! Crush-smitten, she fell **_behind in_** _her studies_. [modifies "fell"]

Now, class, who can tell us what two types of preposition Prose-Mary was good enough to demonstrate for us? Yes, _simple_ , you all got that right off. One preposition ( **with** ) __ by itself. But then she also gave us an all-too-common example of a _compound_ preposition ( **behind in** ). Here are some others: **due to infatuation with** him; **on account of** puppy love; **subsequent to** passing notes; **along with** flirting; **in addition to** blushing.

There, now that that's **out in** the open, your little gossip factories can focus on learning that prepositions can be used in combination with verbs to form verb phrases such as to run **after** , show **off** , wait **on** , take care **of** , put **up with** , go **through** , check **up on** , make sure **of** , talk **over** , blow **up** , call **off** , hang **up** , break **down** , take **off** , walk **out on** , keep **away from** , think back **on** , ****_wake **UP**!_

All of which, darlings, raises two old questions: Can we ever use too many prepositions? Are some of them unnecessary? Yes; for example: Do you know where your baby is **at**? Where are you going **to**? To his house **in** **behind** The Greasy Spoon? You met **up** **with** him—and he called you by _her_ name? Yes, I would throw the baby, the bathwater, and the bathtub **out of** the window too. No! Your relationship's **over with**?

Then again, we must never leave them out where they are called for, must we? No. But when two or more words or phrases are used in parallel, and all cry out idiomatically for the same preposition (Scholarina excels **in** reading, **in** writing, and **in** arithmetic), we don't have to be such prepositional sheep as to use that preposition every time, do we? No. But when idiom cries out for a different preposition in each instance (Prepscilla lives **across** the river, **amongst** the trees, **beyond** the pale, **at** an address, **around** the corner, **down** the block, **on** a street, **in** a house, **behind** the nuclear reactor, be **side** the landfill, **on top of** the highly radioactive nuclear waste **beneath** the ground and all **throughout** the groundwater, **between** the federal and state prisons, **amidst** the gang-banging, **within** the smog-shrouded inner city, **near** the interstate running **through** it) we must use every one, mustn't we? What's that? _How do we know which preposition to use?_ Well, that's easy— isn't it? Tell them, Linkoln. . . . Yes, exactly; you have to _memorize_ and use the _correct_ preposition in order to make perfect idioms of yourselves.

Now now, stop your blubbering. **In** compensation, we have a number **of** extortionately compensated celebrities who are novelly pre-positioned **to** entertain and **to** enlighten you, my darling preppies—did I mention **at** staggering pre-paid cost **to** me? **—with**

**The Novel Rules of Prepositions**

**Homer, Achilles**

Nothing governs choice of preposition like idiom

**Emeril Le Gas**

A preposition has to have an object

**Otiose Redundant**

Avoid redundant prepositions

**Yogi Berra**

Some prepositions may be dropped

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Case of Pronouns**

**Julia Child**

The object of a verb or a preposition is in the objective case

**Subject–Verb Agreement**

**Socrates**

A prepositional phrase that follows the subject does not affect the number of the verb

__

**Rules of Thumb—But Not Me!**

**Con E. Francis**

Never end a sentence with a preposition

**Martha Stewart**

Never end a sentence with a preposition

**Nothing governs choice of preposition like idiom**

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** **

****

**_Homer and Achilles_** _**on** the blackness **of** life._

" _Homer._ Say, I'll bet you live **in** a home, **at** an address, **on** some Athenian byway, **with** family members." "You're dead on, Achilles. But I'm sure _you_ see, a home differs **from** a house." "Yes, but, Homer, did you notice, excuse me, how I met plain, unadorned you, yet I met **with** fate, as this poison arrow **in** my heel attests?" " _No._ But let me say as I wait **on** you, the physician waits **upon** you, and we all wait **for** you, Achilles, **to** die—" "Ai! we pre-position ourselves **for** death." "Some **among** us preposition us **to** death . . ."

78. Some Idiom Determines Which to Choose

Some eight if not nine hundred years B.C.

(The Greek historians do not agree),

Blind Homer, the Greek epic poet, wrote

_The_ _Idiom: The_ _Odyssey._ By boat

Old Homer set sail for the distant shores

Of Troy where, legend had it, there were scores

Of prepositions; he but had to choose

Which one to pre-position, his to use

To blindly form each prepositional

Phrase idiom, that step positional.

And what an odyssey it was, his search

For the _one_ preposition he must perch

Pre-object. "Dear God, _help_ me, I'm stone blind,

To choose the one some _idiom_ 's assigned

(God only knows why)—any other's treason;

For which, God, there seems no rhyme or reason!"

_What,_ God spake, _you'd have some system rule_

_Your choice of preposition **from** the pool,_

_When **Nothing governs choice of preposition**_

**_As does idiom_** _(a pre-condition)?_

__

"And what choice have I," Homer sighed, "but **to** conform **to** idiom, and **to** use ' **to** ,' the _only_ choice given me, **to** form the infinitive, such as **to** be blind?" [enter Achilles looking **down** **at** the heel] "Pray, why so **down** **in** the mouth, Homer?" "It's these curst idiomatic prepositions. I aim **for** literacy **in** my poetr—" "Hey look, oh, sorry, just be thankful you don't have someone aiming **at** your _heel_ **with** the dire aim **of** bringing you down **with** a poison arrow." "I agree **with** you **in** principle, Achilles. Now if only we could agree **to** rise up **against** life's slings and arrows, and agree **on** the awful price we would pay." "I am so well heeled as **to** not quibble **with** you **about** that **for** all ( **of** ) **** the choice figs **in** Alexandria, Homer. _Homer._ Say, I'll bet you live **in** a home, **at** an address, **on** some Athenian byway, **with** family members." "You're dead on, Achilles, especially your unnecessary ' **of**.' But I'll have you know a home differs **from** a house." "But, Homer, did you notice, excuse me, how I met plain, unadorned you (no preposition with persons), yet I met **with** fate, as this poison arrow **in** my heel attests?" " _No._ But let me say as I wait **on** you, the physician waits **upon** you, and we all wait **for** you—doomed Achilles— **to** die, that I am privileged **to** have the foresight **to** see that it's been a damned honor **to** have known you." "Ai! it is not easy **to** accept death, and I have great difficulty **with** it—but there is always difficulty **in** life ( **by** living): we literally pre-position ourselves **for** death." "Some **among** us go so far as **to** preposition us **to** death." "So true, but then I will soon be **out of** all this crazy idiomatic-preposition business, Homer, and **up above** you, while you go on having such idiomatic pairings as **down below** me **to** look forward to, so to speak, **in** life. So farewell, Homer! Have a great prepositional odyssey **on into** your 'golden' years, heh, heh, he—"

**A preposition has to have an object**

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** **

****

_Master Chef_ ** _Emeril Le Gas_** ** __**_shows why he's the undisputed master **of** the prep position._

" _Pork fat rules._ This never fails to get me an 'Object!' **to** my prep position. Smart alecks tell me it's the same **with** grammar (I only went **to** cooking school), that _prepositions_ always have to have an object too. I don't know **about** that. I never went **beyond** Grade A beef **—except for** one time when the abattoir was **out** **of** Grade A and I had to go **with** Grade School. What a culinary disaster! I had to pour **on** the MSG and a shovelful **of** meat tenderizers—bam!—to get the entrée-level education **down** diners' throats . . ."

79. His Prep Position Had Its Object: " _Wrong!_ "

If there was one thing Emeril Le Gas

Knew how to prep it was Food Network brass:

He, after steeping them in acquiescence,

Then first-seasoned this lot with _The Essence_

_Emeril_ , then "went on" to _"Bam!"_ baste

This well first-seasoned entrée to their taste

Buds that, he knew from his first day at _The_

_Celebrity Chef Cooking School,_ were pre-

positioned at conception (as all cooks

Celebrity know) in their pocket books.

_Sweet!_ And, to make sure that he didn't botch

It, he went on to "Kick it up a notch.

Oh, yeah, babe, _feel_ the love!" thus _Emeril_

Showed he'd be more than just ephemeral.

Departing from the healthful cooking schools,

He often prepped his foods with "Pork fat rules!"

_"GROSS!"_ one nutritionist protested strongly:

"I _object_ —you're cooking food so _wrongly_!"

So learned Emeril: **A prep position**

**Has to have an object** dietician.

"Oh, poor celebrity chef me!" Emeril lamented **in** deep-pork-frizzled French-Portuguese. "Having an 'Object!' **to** my prep position is so stressful that **during** commercial breaks **like** this I have to soothe my frazzled nerves **with** a few quick draughts **of** cooking wine, which I preface **with** another **of** my TV-famous catch phrases: ' **Over** the teeth, **beyond** the gums / Look out feed bag—here it comes!' And I thought Katrina, which devastated three **of** my me-star restaurants, tore **through** my posh corporate headquarters, and killed hundreds **of** people, was a disaster. Lately, I've come **to** a belief that the sole life object **of** a prep position is to have an 'Object!' Some smart alecks tell me it's the same **with** grammar (I'll have to take their words **for** it since I only went **to** cooking school), that _prepositions_ always have to have an object too. But I don't know **about** all that. I never went **beyond** Grade A beef **—except for** one time when the local abattoir (that's French, you know, **for** slaughterhouse) was **out** **of** Grade A and I had to go **with** Grade School. What a culinary disaster! I had to—Bam!—use even more MSG and a shovelful **of** meat tenderizers **on** the entrée-level education to get it **down** diners' throats, then—Bam! kick it **up** another notch **by** the simple expedient **of** smothering it **in** A.1. Steak Sauce to keep them **from** objecting **to** the **** main course that was **below** prime (par **for** the course **in** no-star restaurants), and complaining **about** the standard method **of** preparation. These same smart alecks say that the object **of** the preposition can be a noun ( **into** the pot—Bam!); a pronoun ( **with** it); a gerund phrase ( **besides** passing le gas); a prepositional phrase ( **to** **within** the third degree **of** bad taste); or a noun clause ( **by** whatsoever culinary means is **at** my disposal). I _knew_ I should have gone **to** the— _BAM!—_Brooklyn Academy **of** Music."

**Avoid redundant prepositions**

****

** **

****

**_Otiose Redundant_** _was sittin' on the dock when he should have been actin' on it._

"I sang, 'Ooh, she may be weary / Young girls they do get weary / But when they _do_ get weary,' I went on creating the classic Otiose Redundancy, **to** which I was adding **to** , **out** **of** the kindness of my heart it poured **out** **of** , 'you gotta try a little tenderness,' ' **of** which young girls can't get too much **of**.' Then they all stormed out. They'd had it—twice. Now here I am sittin' on the dock of the bay next to the sea **by** which I live **by in** a lonely state I'm **in** —when all this time I should've been sittin' on the docking of a _preposition_. . . ."

80. The Fans to Whom He Sang to Left Him Taught

"It's time," soul singer Otiose Redundant,

Named and famed for excess of abundant

Soul he put in his each soulful phrase,

Sang out, "it's time I entered a new phase

Of tautologic superfluity

That's purely Otiose Redundancy.

And since my soulful phrasings are begun

With (not just some but _each_ Redundant one)

A preposition, I could well repeat

It, out **of** love **of** doubling up on sweet;

"Sing out **of** love, Redundantly, **of** love:

' **Of** __ which, my love, you've no conception __**of** ';

Then sing my heart out, should it come to that,

'Oh, baby, **at** the place where my heart's **at** ';

Then go on, 'there is no one, sweet—it's true—

**With** whom I'd rather be **with** than **with** you.' "

His sung tautologies soon overwrought

Him: "They **to** whom I sang **to** _left_ me, taught,

By Otiose Redundant repetitions,

To **Avoid redundant prepositions**."

Alone by himself, Otiose sat down on the dock of the bay in the morning sun to analyze where he'd gone so Redundantly wrong. "What could I have said to them **to** whom I sang my heart out **to** that made them all leave me, not for another, but for _not_ another? I mean, I started out on the right note, to strike the right chord on their heartstrings, singing 'Ooh, she may be weary / Young girls they do get weary / But when they _do_ get weary,' I went on and on, creating the classic Otiose Redundancy, 'you gotta try a little tenderness,' **to** which I was adding **to** , **out** **of** the kindness of my heart it poured **out** **of** , ' **of** which young girls can't get too much **of**.' For my next number I reached down inside and sang, 'I can't turn you loose / If I do I'm going to lose my mi-i-ind,' **on** the end of which I was adding **on** , **in** the key of soul I was **in** , 'Baby you're the one that I adore / The one **for** whom I'm longing, _longing_ **for** _._ ' Repeating _longing_ like that, with emphasis, was a soulful touch, I thought. Then, seeing I had them **in** the palm of my hand they were **in** , **** I closed the show with 'I've Been Loving You Too Long,' my classic encore, which, as fans all know, is a called-for repetition **for** which I'm famous **for** , **with** which I was really bringing down the house **with**. What really got to them was my tacking on, being **in** the generous mood I was **in** , ' **about** whom I know every loving thing **about**.' That did it; they all got up and stormed out. Now here I am sittin' on the dock of the bay next to the sea **by** which I live **by in** a lonely state I'm **in** —when all this time I should've been sittin' on the docking of a _preposition_. And if I'd known Paul McCartney in 'Live and Let Die' was going to sing 'in this ever-changing world **in** which we live **in** ,' I'd've sung out, **from** the Heaven I'm looking down **from** , 'Don't— _DON'T!_ ' No wonder John, George, and Ringo all left him."

**Some prepositions may be dropped**

****

** **

****

**_Yogi Berra_** _: "The preposition ain't dropped till it's dropped, and that'd be the first time in a row, a wrong mistake._

" _You can drop a preposition, all except for when I can't._ The only thing I could think of when the schoolmarm dropped that on me is, 'There must be a catch to it.' Other whys, why would anyone drop such a contradictating catchphrase on you? Either it's okay to drop a preposition or it's still not okay. It's okay, some 'hold,' to drop the **_of_** in _the fastball **of** Don Larsen_ to make _Don Larsen's fastball,_ which is almost as possessive as a baseball wife that most ballplayers would accidentally drop on purpose if they could . . ."

81. _He_ Drop a Preposition? Not a Chance

"I never dropped one ball I ever caught

When I was standin' in my catcher's squat,

Or my name's Yogi Berra, which it's not;

It's just my nickname that I haven't got,

It says here, on my born certificate

—See?—by its absence, says, 'It isn't it.'

A good thing I was born with no nickname,

Or I'd've been _Nick_ Berra in each game;

I wouldn't have had no known name baptism;

There'd have never been one Yogiism.

"Only thing in life I ever dropped,

By accident on purpose, was I opt-

ed to drop out of school in the eighth grade.

_You're eighted smart enough_ , I thought, to trade

Yourself up to the big leagues, catchin' balls.

(I got my start by catchin' colds in falls

I never dropped—they dropped _me_ summer seasons.)

Wanna know why I dropped school? The reason's

**You can drop a preposition, all**

**Except for when I can't** (like drop a ball).

"The only thing I could think of when the schoolmarm dropped that preposition thing on me," Yogi said, dropping down into prose, "is 'There must be a catch to it.' Other whys, why would anyone drop such a contradictating catchphrase on you? Either it's okay to drop a preposition or it's still not okay. I just wish they'd make up my mind. It's okay, some 'hold,' to drop the **_of_** in _the fastball **of** Don Larsen_ when you're turning it into _Don Larsen's fastball,_ which is almost as possessive as a baseball wife that most ballplayers would accidentally drop on purpose if they could; or in some attributive nouns like _the Bowery boys_ , __ when you want to show off their attribeauts, instead of saying _the boys of the Bowery,_ which is another good thing that ain't a bad thing to do. Well that may be okay for some butterfingers, but for a born catcher, it's still not possible, and even more difficult to do. So from now and then on I'm going to put these two little curved thingums that look like two hands round a ball (O) round all the dropped prepositions that are okay to drop, in _some_ ham-handed people's playbooks: _We play ball ( **on** ) Saturdays and go to church ( **on** ) Sundays, lie around and get fat ( **in** ) winters, but we're going ( **to** ) places and getting ( **to** ) somewhere._ Okay, some that aren't okay to drop are news headlines like YOGI BLASTS PAY HIKE OFFER REJECTION LEAK, in which they've got me dropping no lesson _three_ prepositions: YOGI BLASTS THE LEAKING **OF** THE REJECTION **OF** THE OFFER **OF** A PAY HIKE—which is the first time in a row I've never done that in my life; and BERRA DROPS BEST YOGIISM ALL TIME, where headline fumblers got me dropping another one in a row: BERRA DROPS BEST YOGIISM **OF** ALL TIME—which only brings up bad déjà reviews of me all over again. As far as I'm unconcerned, they can all ( **of** ) them drop dead, or far worse."

13. Phrases

_"Poor but happy" is not a phrase invented by a poor person._

—Mason Cooley

_In India "cold weather" is merely a conventional phrase . . . to distinguish between weather that will melt a brass door-knob and weather which will only make it mushy._

—Mark Twain

**You Think I _Care_ That I Am Not Complete?**

"You might think it would very much disturb

Me that I've not a subject nor a verb;

That I serve as but _one_ lone part of speech,

Thus stand-alone completeness _never_ reach.

But I learned long ago, for what I've not,

To simply make the most of what I've got.

And what I've got is _some_ variety:

Full seven kinds of phrases I can be,

From **absolute** __ to **participial** ,

To **gerund** , yes, and **prepositional** ,

" **Appositive** , or **noun** —unless I live

_Eternal life_ as an **infinitive**!

So, no, I'm not upset, since I've, in lieu

Of stand-aloneness, modifiers too,

And vocatives (nouns of address) and much

In the way of dependency and such;

And I've some kind of _chutzpah_ , so, you see,

I couldn't care less I'm 'complete'ly free;

With such a crowd I'm never on my own.

Still (sigh) . . . it _would_ be nice to stand alone."

Yes, and some among us know first hand what it's like to stand alone—don't they? And well they should, _having stood in the corner enough times._

But hush now, darlings, for right now Phraser is going to tell us how we know a phrase doesn't contain both a subject and a verb, aren't you, dear? _'Cause if it did it would be a clause._ Yes! and you'd have been _completely_ clever if you'd said _Be cause_. Now, who can tell us what Phrases' sole purpose is in _her_ incomplete life? _To be in a relationship with a verb, an adjective, a word or group of words acting like a noun._ Exactly, Scholarina!

Now the **absolute** **phrase** is a queer duck, consisting of a noun or pronoun, a participle and any modifiers, an atypical subject, but _no finite verb_. It is called absolute because it modifies no single word in the sentence, but rather the sentence as a whole. Thus this relationship appeals strongly to flower children who embrace the holistic lifestyle:

**Their species dwindling quickly** , a new-age think tank was organically convened.

**No natural childbirths having arrived** , they each concluded, with faux-leather certainty, that "Your Birthin'stocks are ster—" "No, _your_ Birthin'stocks are sterile!"

Observe now, my dears, **you little appositive learnniks** , how the **appositive phrase** is a renaming, an explanatory equivalent of the word or phase that immediately precedes it. Does everyone see how **you little appositive learnniks** boldly serves as the explanatory equivalent/renaming of "dears"? Here's another:

Ms. Spinster, **the underappreciated schoolmarm** , is a stickler for correct grammar.

How many of you noticed how, in both examples, the appositive phrase was set off by commas? What's that? _We couldn't see because you were only speaking_? Well, you clearly saw that I was speaking, so you must have seen the commas. But never mind that now. Instead, consider the following:

**Underappreciated schoolmarm** Ms. Spinster is a stickler for correct grammar.

Note how in this inverted instance the appositive preceding Ms. Spinster is _not_ set off by commas. No, but what _does_ sets her off—every time—are learnniks _who don't learn_.

On the other hand, the **gerund phrase** consists of a gerund (a verbal noun ending in _ing_ ), reminding us of that other all-too-common verbal noun that ends in someone's **standing** in the corner for **talking** —when he/she should have been engaged in _**listening**_ :

**_Standing_** _in the corner_ does not violate the Geneva Conventions.

The sure remedy for **talking** out of turn is my **assigning** cruel and unusual homework.

Oh but, darlings, you'll be happy to know there's no end to the **infinitive phrase**. Why? Well, it begins to, but then thinks better of it and just goes on and on _ad infinitum_ doing whatever it is that it does, which, oftentimes, is acting as a noun or a modifier:

Whosoever hopes _to be_ _passing with flying colors_ had best learn to saddle a passenger peacock. [acts as adverb modifying "hopes"]

_To go on to a school of higher learning_ should be every learnnik's goal. _To save for an extension ladder tall enough_ is a must. [serve as subject of the sentence]

Norwegian by birth, young Yimmie Yohnson dares _to dream of getting his education in Yale._ [serves as object of "dares"]

Now the **noun phrase** contains a noun plus any modifiers:

The _beloved little wooden one-room country **schoolhouse**_ **** is almost extinct.

Oh, but woe unto the little woodenheaded phrasemaker who stacks noun upon noun upon noun __ to end up with the notorious "stacked noun" phrase:

The __**school lunch room renovation project charity bazaar/dance/raffle fund drive**.

And don't forget, _O you who have immature little memory piggy banks,_ that noun phrases include vocatives, commonly referred to as nouns of address. Here's another:

_You with the freckles passing the note to Prose-Mary,_ **** stand up and read it aloud.

The **participial phrase** consists of a present or past participle and its modifiers:

**_Acting_** _up in front of his classmates,_ the unlearnnik didn't see the pointer coming down on his sorry little noodle till it was too late.

The moment the pain set in, he quit, **_finished_** _with his childish shenanigans._

Did you all see how whether it starts or ends the sentence, the participial phrase is set off by a single comma. What? Yes, that's right, Pattyciple, _when it comes within the sentence it is set off by two commas._ And I was just coming to that, wasn't I?

Someone, **_having had_** _her thunder stolen like that_ , __ is not a happy schoolmarm.

So before someone steals my next thought, note how each participle introduces a phrase modifying a noun or pronoun (unlearnnik, he, Someone). Meaning they are functioning as? . . . _yes_ , Pattyciple, good girl, most of the time, _adjectives._ And for that, there there, dry your eyes, dear. You can go to the head of the sentence, or the end, or the middle, if you like (in which case you'll serve, for all in tents and porpoises, as a parenthetic element).

Finally, class, a **prepositional phrase** , as you learned back in Prepositions, begins with a preposition, is more often than not followed by one or more modifying adjectives, and ends with a noun or pronoun ( ** _on_** _the desk, **with** no red apple, **upon** the green blackboard, **beyond** first grade, **during** recess, **behind** my back,_ **_out_** _of sight— **except** mine_). Yes, and _what_ is this noun or pronoun again? That's right, the _object_ of the preposition.

Well then, darlings, now that we are all so well-versed in phrases, all that remains is to be well-phrased in verses, which we may fully expect to be in

**The Novel Rules of Phrases**

**Grammar Moses**

Participial phrases that begin a sentence must refer to the grammatic subject

**Darryl Strawberry**

A phrase cannot contain a subject and a predicate

**Andy Warhol**

An absolute phrase must be set off with a comma or a pair of commas

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Subject–Verb Agreement**

**Socrates**

A prepositional phrase that follows the subject does not affect the number of the verb

**Conjunctions**

**Amelia Earhart, Solo Claus**

Avoid joining words or phrases or dependent clauses with a conjunctive adverb

**Commas**

**Yo-Yo Ma, Klaus Schulze**

Use a comma to introduce a word, phrase, or, on occasion, a clause

****

**Question Marks**

**Simon Phraser, Smelling Flour[?]**

Use a question mark after a word, phrase, or date whose accuracy is in question

**Italics**

**Italex Baldwin**

Use italics for titles of books, magazines, plays, operas, long poems, and motion pictures; names of ships, trains, aircraft, newspapers, legal cases; scientific names; foreign words and phrases

****

**Diction**

**Bernie Ebbers**

Avoid overuse of the same word or phrase in close succession

**Captain Queeg**

Avoid using illiterate words and phrases

**Pablo Picasso**

Use words or phrases that paint a picture

**Adam Clayton Vowel**

Vary the position of _she said_ phrases

**Verb-be Hancock, Baba Ram Dass, Allen Ginsberg, Timothy Leary**

Avoid the use of be in place of say, as well as in circumlocutory be phrases

**Sentences**

**Jimmy Hoffa**

Avoid setting off a phrase as a sentence

**the London Bombers**

Make sentence transitions clear by using transitional words and phrases

**Donkey Hoaty, Sancho Panza**

Get after dangling verbal phrases

**Rules of Thumb—But Not Me!**

**Robert Frost**

Never split a verb phrase

**Participial phrases that begin a sentence must refer to the grammatic subject**

****

** **

****

_Taking up painting at age 76,_ ** _Grammar Moses_** ** __**_painted by numbers, churning out some 1500 paintings before laying down her brush for good at the ripe old number of 101._

_Dead at the age of 101_ , __ mourners hold a sad candlelight vigil for **The Nation's Grammar**. _Released to the public_ , __ the coroner states that the **autopsy** gives the cause of death as candle monoxide poisoning. _Fuming,_ onlookers see **Ms. Spinster** doing a slow burn: "The _participial phrases_ at the beginning of the foregoing sentences should be referring to the **subject** , but instead are referring to anything but the subject, all because careless, witless writers, speakers put them in that grave position—as they are me! . . ."
**  
**

82. She Painted in Her Golden Phrase of Life

" _One hundred_ —and she's painting still with words!

Folks, Grammar Moses paints her 'seen's and 'heard's

With such old mastery—art lovers, see!

Hear! how each verb with subject MUST agree,

Because she paints by person and by number,

Paints her put-down gender in _burnt_ umber.

Listen! Look! as Grammar, no rule-bender,

Paints a strict rule: _Pronouns, nouns, in gender,_

_MUST agree_. Art lovers, just between us,

Do we not see—hear—the work of genius?"

" _We'll_ be judge, a jury of her peers,

Who peer upon her subject works—with jeers.

We see it's no artistic medium

She works in, but pedantic _tedium_.

We judge, we charge, she's of the 'nitpick' school.

_Participating in one damning rule_ ,

**We** sentence Grammar—hang! you've freed her skin!"

"Right

—As you just did— **a sentence must refer**

**To the _Gramma_ tic subject**—not **you** —her."

_Taking up painting at the age of seventy-six_ , open-mouthed art patrons are amazed at **Grammar Moses'** "early" works. _Turning out some two hundred and fifty paintings at the ripe young age of 100_ , they have to pick their jaws up off the floor in viewing all the **Gram Dame** produced in her young-enough-to-do-it-all again period. _Dead at the age of 101_ , __ mourners hold a sad candlelight vigil for **The Nation's Grammar**. _Released to the public_ , __ the coroner states that the **autopsy** gives the cause of death as candle monoxide poisoning. _Disgusted with their colossal stupidity_ , deceased mourners act out the tragic candle opera as **Grammar Moses** turns over and over in her casket muttering, " _Now_ who is going to mourn for me?" _Flown in for the funeral_ , the one surviving mourner weeps inconsolably as **Elton John** touchingly sings "Candle in the Lungs." _Leading the somber procession_ , millions of Grammarians following along at home are disgusted to see the **Stone of England** exhibit no slightest trace of emotion upon what is taken for granite, since it's nowhere near cold enough to pass for the face of a queen. _Following closely behind Her Stone Majesty,_ onlookers openly weep to see the grief-wracked visage of **Grammar Spinster** gnashing her store-bought teeth and loudly lamenting the death of English grammar: "The _participial phrases_ at the beginning of the foregoing sentences should be referring—if there were any grammar in the world besides me—to the **subject** , but instead are referring to anything but the subject, all because careless, witless writers and speakers put them in that grave position—as they are me! _Speaking as a participial phrase correctly referring to the subject_ , **I** hope they get exactly what's coming to them: _Hanging by the neck until dead,_ **they** will appear at the beginning of a death sentence."

**A phrase cannot contain a subject and a predicate**

****

** **

****

_Champion slugger_ ** _Darryl "Fraise" Strawberry_** _is surprised to see wife Lisette show up for batting practice—with her own bat—and a few choice phrases of her own._

"But, But—" "Never mind with the butting practice, Fraise. The butting season is over for you—for good! Now _there_ are three phrases fit for a king—and there's another. Did you notice how in all four of them no philandering subject is doing anything _with_ any predicate, let alone _to_ any predicate—and especially not to some _pretty Kate_? "But, But—" "All right, go ahead with your 'But'ing practice, King Fraise—but just you remember: you put one in play anywhere in the _out_ field—and it's going to be _left_ field."
**  
**

83. A Player, He Could Not Contain Himself

Left-handed Darryl Strawberry was king

Of baseball, a true monarch right from spring

King-training right on through until October,

From one diamond to the next, unsober.

Then he wed Lisette (she called him "Fraise,"

Her "Strawberry" in French). Sweet glory days!

Well, "Diamond King," he soon subjected her

To royal _court_ abuse: philanderer,

When he was done with playing the outfield,

He played "right" roily the (no doubt) field.

But he played this position once too often.

Hard as diamond, his Queen didn't soften

Her position in the royal court:

"Look, _I'm_ your consort—you cannot consort

With other than me in your realm, O 'King,'

To other than your Queen you _cannot_ cling!

Especially some pretty thing named Kate.

Hold her you _can't_. Your Queen, I firmly state

**A Fraise cannot contain a subject and**

**A pretty Kate** —or you'll be one _left_ hand!"

"But, But—" "Never mind with the butting practice. The butting season is over for you—for good! Now _there_ are three phrases fit for a king—and there's another. Did you notice how in all four of them no philandering subject is doing anything _with_ any predicate, let alone _to_ any predicate—and especially not to some _pretty Kate_? how each is a grammatic unit that acts like a single part __ of speech? how not one of them can stand on its own feat, but must be part of a sentence? So, King, let's talk phrases, you and me: A **prepositional phrase** begins with a preposition and ends with a noun or pronoun, its object—and not always its object of ****_alienation_ _ of affection_ ( _from_ me)." "But, But—" "Yes, 'But,' that's your all-time MVP, Most Valentino Preposition, isn't it? But that preposition, and I mean that position that comes before my royal objection, won't help you hit any more _outside-_ the-home runs—will it? On the other _philandering_ hand, a **participial phrase** includes a participle together with its modifiers ( _setting_ you straight, _ chewing_ you out); a **gerund phrase** contains a gerund, and may also include modifiers and other closely related words (your _lying_ to me); an **infinitive phrase** contains an infinitive, the phrase acting as a noun ( _to flay_ you alive is my plan) or modifier (I am going _to make_ your life hell); an **absolute phrase** , __ so called because it modifies no word in the sentence of which it is part, consists of a noun followed and modified by a participle or participial phrase (the skewering _done_ , I'll leave you squirming on a pin); but a mighty red-faced **King Fraise** (Darryl Strawberry) consists of scores of little seeds surrounded by red flesh, _no_ subject—and _NO_ pretty Kate." "But, But—" "All right, go ahead with your 'But'ing practice—but just you remember: you put one in play anywhere in the _out_ field—and it's going to be _left_ field!"

**An absolute phrase must be set off with a comma or a pair of commas**

****

** **

****

_His image as the Absolute Pop Artist firmly established , _**_Andy Warhol_** _comes out, 1961._

_"My pop art completed_ , I knocked off for the day." "You're the absolute King of Pop, Andy, popping your absolute phrase on the head of a sentence. "I did that deliberately, _my artistic streak (being) in a hurry._ " "Genius! You popped your absolute phrase on the _end_ of your sentence." "Attention! Everyone will now, _the future having arrived,_ be popping a large Coke for fifteen minutes." "Now you popped it in the _middle_. Popitome of pop art!" " _My face looking like death warmed over_ , it's no wonder you pity me, Pop."
**  
**

84. All Done, He Set His Absolute Phrase Off

Pop artist Andy Warhol loved to paint

Whole cans (yes, he was not a little quaint)

Of Campbell's _Um-m-m-m!_ Condensed Tomato Soup,

Shoes, dollar bills, and others in that group

Of pop art, such as bottles whose "con _tents_ "

Were vodka—Absolut advertisements

Were born! "Each in this 'Absolut Pop' phase

Of mine must have an Absolut Pop phrase

To set it off, then (since it's not Smirnoff),

Some thing to set the _Absolut phrase_ off.

"Hmmmm [pop!]—that's it! Way back in Pop Art School

We had drummed in the absolute phrase rule.

What was it now? . . . hmmmm [pop!]—that's it!— _just so!_

To set it off one needs a mother crow

Or else _two_ of those mothers." He made art.

A late Crow-Magnon critic crowed her heart:

" _Pure genius!_ Yes, I absolutely see

The symbolism of it all," gushed she.

" **An Absolut phrase _must_ be set off by**

**A caw ma—or a pair of caw mas**." [Ai!]

The popeyed critic pored upon Andy's latest absolute phrase. After a rapt moment spent rummaging about her critibellum for the absolute accolade, she gushed, "An iconic work of pop art—an absolute masterpiece! No _wonder_ you're the absolute King of Pop, Andy. Words fail me, but yours absolutely do not: ' _My pop art completed_ , I knocked off for the day.' Yes, the way you set the absolute phrase _My pop art completed_ (pop) __ at the head of a complete sentence was a stroke of pure genius. But the way you so masterfully popped the populist phrase _pop art_ into your absolute phrase, popularly followed, modified by a participle ( _completed_ ), while taking the most exquisite care to assure that it contained a subject but no predicate (less is more), thus could not stand alone as a sentence, was pure Warholier-than-thou. __ But of course what totally makes your absolute phrase absolute is the way you took the most excruciating of pop artistic pains to make it modify no single word in the sentence of which it is part—yet does have a relationship to it. Then, to pop it all off, you set it off with not a lone or even a single, but a _solitary_ comma—absolutely bringing the Warhol enchilada to life." "Yes, I did that deliberately, _my supply of commas running low._ " "Einstein! This time you popped your absolute phrase on the absolute _end_ of your sentence. Is there no end to your pop versatility, Andy?" "Attention! Everyone will now, _the future having arrived,_ be famous for fifteen minutes." "Pop _insertion!_ The way you popped your latest absolute phrase into the _middle_ of your sentence, setting it off by a _matching pair_ of commas, is, is—yes, I'll say it, the absolute _popitome_ of pop art." " _My face looking like death warmed over_ , it's no wonder you pity me. _Set off by a single, anything-but-calm ma_ , what is there for a no-pop pop artist to pop off (crow) about, Ma?"

14. Clauses

_Harry, did you really think I'd allow you to put in an escape clause?_

—Mrs. Houdini

_In their rules there was only one clause: Do what you will._

—Francois Rabelais

**A Clause, So Sentenced, Knows No Gaiety**

"Unlike a phrase, I've got a subject and

A predicate, yet still I cannot stand

Upon my own, because I'd not be when

I should, a clause—I'd be a _sentence_ then.

Oh, boo! A sentence, how _much_ I would miss

My being pure clause— _all_ the clausal bliss

Of being either, meek, **subordinate** ,

Or with my equal self **coordinate** ;

Lament that I'd not be **restrictive** or

(Sniff) **nonrestrictive** —and grieve all the more

"Not being **adverb** , **adjective** , **** or **noun** ,

Or **relative** [tears]—total clause _meltdown._

Yet woe unto my health most consequential

Would be my not being [gloom] **sentential** ;

But not being (sob!) ** __ elliptical**

Would be so clause _apocalyptical_ :

God—no dependence/independency!

Oh, please excuse my windy tendence—see,

A _sentence_ , __ I could NOT be gay, I posit,

Just _because_ I'd come out of the clause set."

Oh, dear—what a caclausetrophe! So what lesson can we take from this, Clauses' versed nightmare? _Before we say our nightly verse we should always look in the closet, and then under the bed, for any skeletons and such_? Well, that _is_ sound advice, Clausette, but you went from verse to bed, when the whole world knows that children invariably go _from bed to verse_. No, the lesson here is that Clauses is so set in his ways that he _can't_ change—to sentences—though he's not averse to changing to any of his many clausal guises.

Ah, but _which_ one, darlings, there's the rub, as the genie said to the lamp. Let's see if we can figure out which by analyzing the following old morality tale disguised as a sentence:

_Jane marries Dick_ for the money.

Notice how _Jane marries Dick_ is the _independent clause_ of the sentence, and how Jane __ is the subject performing the central act of predication (marrying). But see, class, see! See how Jane now selflessly puts another before herself:

_Because Jane marries Dick_ for the money.

Does everyone see how Jane, following her predation, sacrificed her independence in order to subordinate __ herself to Dick, **** the object of her designs, and meekly demonstrates this by placing up front, for all to see, the traditional sign of subordination? What? _A wedding ring?_ How little you innocents know! The subordinating conjunction **because**. What? _Why did she do that?_ Why, to show that she's incapable of standing on her own and needs independent Dick to support her (symbolically represented by being propped up by an underscore). Jane ** __** is saying, in so many words, "See, Dick, see! See how I, Jane, by this act of subordination, have sacrificed being independent _Jane marries Dick_ , which could stand on its own as a sentence, to utterly dependent _Because Jane marries Dick_ , wholly incapable of allowing me, Jane, to stand on my own." And why doesn't Jane want to stand on her own? Oh, see, children, see! So that she can be _dependent_ on him, Dick (the object), for the money (the indirect object), even though everyone knows the money has been the direct object all along.

Well, darlings, now that you know everything you need to know about _dependent_ and _independent_ clauses—well, perhaps there are a "couple" more things we can add:

In the beginning, Dick and Jane were so deluded (traditionally pronounced "delighted") with the union that they're now moved to swear their marriage vows anew. So the boring-again newlyweds are jointly sentenced to

_Because Jane marries Dick_ for the money, _Dick sheepishly goes along_ **** for the ride. Before long, Dick realizes that he's married into a **complex sentence** consisting of a _dependent clause_ ( _Because Jane marries Dick_ ) for the money, and an _independent clause_ ( _Dick sheepishly goes along_ ) **** for the ride.

In spite of that, things are rosy again. However, with the passage of time, as much as several moments, it dawns on the happy couple just how dependent on this arrangement they've become. So they swear their marriage vows anew; but due to strident advances in feminism, Jane **** insists on going into the marriage as an equal, **coordinate, independent clause** , to this effect:

_Jane marries Dick_ for the money, **and** _Dick sheepishly goes along_ **** for the ride.

It soon strikes Dick that getting coupled by way of the coordinating conjunction **and** has landed him in a **compound sentence**. So they swear their vows anew, with added clause. A prenuptial? Hardly. They enlist the aid of a different _dependent clause_ , marrying it onto their two _independent clauses_ , resulting in

_Since it is the longstanding custom_ , _Jane marries Dick_ for the money, and _Dick sheepishly goes along_ **** for the ride.

They're still being pock-marked with rice when Dick realizes, in taking Jane's **** hand this time, that he's been handed a **compound-complex sentence** _._

Dismayed is Dick! He now discovers that a _dependent/subordinate clause_ possesses a subordinating word that binds it ("till death do us part") to the _independent clause_ :

_That he is mine_ ****_is what all you independent single girls need to remember!_ [noun clause acting as subject, introduced by the subordinating relative pronoun **That** ]

_As soon as he was married_ , _he came to the conclusion Uh-oh!_ [adverb clause introduced by the subordinating conjunction **As soon as** modifying **was married** ]

_The money,_ _which was my avowed object_ , _I'm spending left, right, and center_. [relative clause introduced by the subordinating relative pronoun **which** ]

Disheartened is Dick! **** He sees that this _dependent clause_ of his can act like a noun in the sentence, introduced by **that** , **what** , **who** , **whom** , **which** , **when** , **how** , **where** , **** or **_why_** :

_Whom you are looking at_ is very much my business. [subject]

Naturally, I never see _that I am causing him to look_. [object]

He is outraged by _how many credit cards I've maxed out_. [object of preposition **by** ]

Down in the mouth is Dick! He sees that Jane ** __** can also act like an adverb expressing one of nine different relationships—each with a different subordinating conjunction; each a **_subordinate adverb clause_** modifying the verb, adjective, or adverb _._

Time: _Whenever I go shopping_ I increase the Gross Marital Debt twofold.

Place: I don't know _where he gets off_ thinking our joint account is with BankRuptcy _._

Manner: __ I treat him _as if he were rapt around my little figure_.

Condition: I'll make you a BLT _provided you bring home the bacon_.

Cause: I am skinny _because you continually bring home lean bacon_.

Purpose: He works his fingers to the bone _in order that I may have_ **** even more bones of contention for the homemade soup.

Result: Our marriage is _so_ **** one-sided ****_that he snidely refers to it as our Möbius strip_.

Degree or comparison: He complains _more than I do_.

Concession: He is less than happy in this marriage, _although he doesn't know what he'd "I do" without me._

Despondent is Dick! **** His _dependent clause_ , he sees, can also act like an _adjective_ introduced by a relative pronoun ( **who** , **which** , **that** ) or subordinating conjunction ( **when** , **where** , **why** ), becoming an **adjective clause** modifying the noun:

The **marriage** _that is made in having (enough)_ has yet to be made.

You don't remember the **country** _where we first met —_do you?

If you truly loved me, it's a **place** _you would never forget._

Despairing is Dick! He realizes with this most recent "If you truly loved me . . ." that his dependent one is capable of acting like an elliptical clause, one that is missing either the pronoun that introduces the clause or the predicate—if not both—as was only too evident by ". . . it's a _place_ ****_[that] you would never forget_ ":

_Though [I am] often in the wrong in our arguments_ , I can't advise strongly enough against your ever winning one, Dick.

Unless you like sleeping in the doghouse, it would be foolhardy in the extreme for you to argue your case better _than I [should argue] mine_.

You know perfectly well _[that] it's a woman's prerogative to change your mind_.

Demoralized is Dick! He sees that his _dependent clause_ not only can modify _him_ to the point of being unrecognizable to his single friends, but also can act as a relatively radical **sentential clause** , modifying whole clauses—even multiple clauses:

_I didn't allow him to keep one recognizable feature, nor allow him to wear a name tag_ , _which assured that his former bachelor buddies would never recognize him_.

I said, _"Thou shalt wear those '60s bell bottoms, together with those '70s platform shoes, OVER MY DEAD BODY!"_ _which commandment he promised to obey_.

Depressed is Dick! **** He sees that a _dependent clause_ is capable of holding back, thereby becoming a **restrictive clause** , one essential to his "for life" sentence to give it meaning:

The independent clause _that I am joined to for life_ will not be henpecked tonight.

He sees that the **restrictive clause** **(** _that I am joined to for life_ **)** is not set off by commas, _must not be_ , in order to show that _he_ , the clause she is joined to for life, is the _one_ clause—of ALL independent clauses she has some relationship with!—who'll not be henpecked tonight. Still, he is about to take some comfort in the merciful respite when his _dependent_ makes it all too obvious that she is capable of being a **nonrestrictive clause** :

The independent clause, _which I am joined to for life_ , will not be henpecked tonight.

While he finds some blessed relief in knowing he is the _only_ independent clause in her life, and that he'll not be henpecked tonight, it vanishes in an instant when he realizes that the **nonrestrictive clause** **(** _which I am joined to for life_ **)** is set off by commas—meaning _he_ is completely incidental to her—and can be discarded _without any loss whatsoever_ to the essential meaning of the sentence!

Well, darling spouses-to-be, there you have the whole sad story of the Clauses. And who can not help feeling sorry for Dick, considering how differently his life sentence might have turned out for him if only, instead of a scheming, cold-hearted _dependent clause_ , he had conjoined himself to some **dependable good cause** like . . . like (sigh)—but who ever said life, no less than cold, calculating clauses, _who only go into it for the money_ , **** was fair. No one, that's—why, are those _tears_ , Clausia? There there, dear, I didn't mean _you_. Don't feel bad (not _badly_ ). Here, take these tissues and dry your eyes—but do save the most absorbent ones for me, won't you, dear (sniff), there's a good girl. So very good that, _because I know [that] you will promise to love, honor, and obey them_ , I'm going to give you the honor of introducing

**The Novel Rules of Clauses**

**Klaws Kinski, Rumpelteazer**

Join two independent clauses with a conjunction

**Marlo Thomas, Phil Donahue**

Use _that_ to introduce restrictive clauses; _which_ to introduce nonrestrictive clauses

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Case of Pronouns**

**Santa and Mrs. Claus**

An elliptical clause of comparison preceded by _than_ or _as_ requires the case called for by the expanded comparison

**Who (Leo ingratias)**

When _who_ introduces a subordinate clause, its case hinges on its function in that clause

**Conjunctions**

**Amelia Earhart, Solo Claus**

Avoid joining words or phrases or dependent clauses with a conjunctive adverb

**Tenses and Tones**

**Andro Clauz and the Lion**

The tense of the verb in a subordinate clause depends on the tense of the verb in the main clause

**Mood**

**Winston and Clementine Churchill**

Use the subjunctive in _that_ clauses expressing necessity or a parliamentary motion

**Commas**

**Clause von Beaut-Low**

Write a comma in front of _and_ or _but_ introducing an independent clause

**Yo-Yo Ma, Klaus Schulze**

Use a comma to introduce a word, phrase, or, on occasion, a clause

**Ma and Pa Clawse**

Restrictive relative clauses are not set off by commas

**Santa and Samantha Claus**

Nonrestrictive clauses are set off by commas

**Zantac and Mrs. Clause**

Never join independent clauses with a comma

**Semicolons**

**Semi-colon Powell, Kofi Annan**

Use the semicolon between independent clauses that contain internal punctuation

**Dr. Laura**

Use the semicolon to split up independent clauses not joined by a conjunction

**Colons**

**Loretta Lynn**

Use a colon to set off a quotation that supports the preceding clause

**Papa and Mama Claus**

Conjoin two independent clauses with a colon if the second clause amplifies the first

**Jimmy Carter**

Place a colon right behind an independent clause to introduce illustrative quotation

**Sentences**

**Elle McPherson**

Avoid dangling elliptical clauses

**Join two independent clauses with a conjunction**

****

** **

****

**_Klaws Kinski_** _is confronted with Rumpleteazer's independent spirit, and they dance the old, familiar paws de deux in_ Cats.

"An independent Klaws, I could have conjoined Rumpelteazer, an in- _dependent_ claws, with a semicolon, colon, or a blessed _period_ of harmony, **but** _no-o-o-o-o_ , I had to go and conjoin her with a coordinating _conjunction_ (marriage) preceded by a calm awe. Well, it's done, **and** so am I. She said, 'I am as _equally_ independent as you in my way, **so** you'd better get used to it. You can run around with 'Cats,' **but** don't even think about running around with cats. Get that idea out of your head, _now_ , **or** I'll catfight it out for you.' . . ."
**  
**

85. He Joined Her with Conjunction to His Woe

Klaws "Kool Kat" Kinski, whose fee-line of work

Was acting, had the standard feline quirk

Of independence: acting so aloof

As to appear (so cool) conjoiningproof,

The stuff of myth. And then "Cats" came to town

And turned his independence upside down:

One Rumpelteazer wrapped her feline paws

Around him, sunk her Klaws-dependent claws

Deep into him (kept sharp for just this function),

Conned him into in-deep _end_ ent junction.

So conjoined (not cool!), Klaws came to hear it:

Rumpelteazer's independent spirit:

"I'll not be _subordinate_ to you

For any Klaws-subordinate-me slew

Of **if** _,_ **since** , **as** , **because** , **although** , **unless** ,

**So that** —or **while**!" she spat with cattiness.

Klaws sighed, "I was so independent, cool,

Aloof, but she knew the 'dependent' rule

To **Join to independent Klawses with**

**Con-junction**. End: cool, independent myth.

"I, an independent Klaws, could have gotten conjoined to Rumpelteazer, an in- _dependent_ claws, with a semicolon, a colon, or a blessed _period_ of harmony, **but** _no-o-o-o-o_ , I had to go and get conjoined to her by way of a _conjunction_ preceded by a comma. She was a cat on a hot-teen roof, **so** I, like a lovesick fool, allowed her to conjoin me. Now _I_ am like to have kittens, **for** she is **** anything but a _calm_ ma. I dominated the stage as King Lear and Prince Hamcat, **and** I commandingly portrayed Jesus Christ as a ranting psychopuss. I'm renowned for my explosive intensity, **yet** in Rumpelteazer's beguiling paws I acted like a docile pussycat. Before her, I could tomcat it to my heart's content, **for** I was _free._ Well, I'm conjoined to her now by a coordinating conjunction (marriage) preceded by a calm awe, **and** I am kicking myself for it. (My _ex-_ agent said, 'Join her with a _subordinating_ conjunction, **since** then she will be subordinate to you.') Well, I tried it, **and** am I ever sorry. She said to me, **and** I'll never forget it: 'I am every bit as _equally_ independent as you in my way, **so** you'd better get used to it. You can run around with 'Cats,' **but** don't even think about running around with cats. You can get that idea out of your head, **or** I'll catfight it out for you.' I never tried subordinating her again, **nor** do I have any equally foolish plans of attempting it. I acted like a fool **and** I _am_ a fool. I knew it was a mistake **yet** I went along with it. (I left out the commas **but** that's okay. The clauses are short **so** that's allowed. I should have left out the _'calm' awe_ before the conjunction, **but** foolishly I didn't.) Living with an insubordinate clause would be quite doable, **but** living with an insubordinate _claws_ is intolerable. I am no longer cool **nor** am I independent. That's all gone, **yet** I have _Me-m-m-m-rie-e-e-e-es, all alone in the moo-o-o-o-o-nli-i-i-i-i-ight . . . _"

**Use _that_ to introduce restrictive clauses, _which_ to introduce nonrestrictive clauses**

****

** **

****

_Phil Donahue and "That Girl"_ ** _Marlo Thomas_** _honeymooning in Witch-it-Awe, he being there all along._

"Uh, Marlo, honey, if **_That_** side of you is good, and **_Witch_** side of you is good, what's the difference?" " _Hear!_ let me give it to you—and give it to you _good_ : the witches **_that_** _you dated before you met me_ were all BAD witches. **_That_** _you dated before you met me_ is a restrictive clause because it gives essential information about the preceding witches—in order to distinguish them from all the BAD witches you dated _after_ you met me!" [Phil to himself] "Sheesh! It's a good thing **_That Witch_** of mine is such a good witch."

86. Bewitched, He Asked Which Side of Her Was Good

**_That Witch_** that's Marlo Thomas, aka **_That_** _Girl_ ,

Was a most bewitching Democrat girl,

Thus no spouse Republican would do

For her. She wed Phil "Chat Twitch" Donahue,

Who soon found out that **_That Witch_** had, had she,

A **That/Which** split-witch personality.

As all such witches do, she soon bewitched him,

Made him sign a prenup pre–she hitched him:

**_That Witch_** bound him (" _That_ restricts him!" clause)

To both good **That/Which** sides of her good cause:

"Blest St. Jude Children's Hospital," sighed he,

"Wherein **_That Witch_** is dedicated, she,

To finding nonrestrictive cures for all

Diseases of all children, dear and small.

No, Wendy the Good Little Witch," praised he,

"Has nothing on **_That Witch_** of mine. I see

Her **_That Witch_** _good_ side— _nonrestrictive_ _good_ —

**Which** tells me she's so good, **_That Witch_** , I should

**Use _That_ for all restrictive clauses, _Witch_**

**For nonrestrictive**." [ ** _That Witch_** was some hitch!]

After the initial bewitchment had worn off, Phil finally got around to popping the other question: "Uh, honey, if **_That_** side of you is good, and **_Witch_** side of you is good, what's the difference?" " **That which** you ask me is too obvious: **That** side of me is restricted to doing good for St. Jude's, **which** side of me is dedicated to seeing that that goodness is nonrestrictive. Capisci?" "Well, er, uh . . ." "Oh, you talk show hosts are all alike: Your mouths, **which** never stop flapping, are nonrestrictive, while your ears . . . well, just look 'restrictive' up in the dictionary and there's a Picture of a brand new _un_ used pair of talk show host's ears. _Hear!_ let me explain: the witches **_that_** _you dated before you met me_ were all BAD witches. **_That_** _you dated before you met me_ is a restrictive clause because it gives essential information about the preceding witches in order to distinguish them from all the BAD witches you dated _after_ you met me! It's called a restrictive clause because it restricts the reference to just those preceding BAD witches. At least you weren't **_that_** insensitive as to set them __ off with calm awes." "But—" "Now let me give you another example—and give it to you _good_ : the witches, **_which_** _you dated before you met me,_ were all BAD witches. **_Which_** _you dated before you met me_ is called a nonrestrictive clause because it gives nonessential information. We already know all the witches were BAD witches. That's a given. What we're also given, as if it were a mere trivial aside, is that you dated them before you met _me_ , **which** you were insensitive enough to set off with _commas_ —as if _me_ were not special enough for calm awes; just something **_Witch_** you thought you'd throw in—as 'Phil'er!" "Bu—" "Oh, don't try to talk your way out of it." [Phil, to himself] "Sheesh! It's a good thing **_That Witch_** of mine is such a _good_ witch."

15. Tenses and Tones

_Tense is a seventy-two-virgins-anticipating martyr on his way to a car bombing in the toniest section of Baghdad, stressing that he's going to get there and find that it's "Valet Bombing Only."_

—the Unknown Baghdad-over-his-head Comic

**Tone, Tense, Toned Tense Down, Set the Perfect Tone**

"My stating time of action, being, hence says

Just how _good_ I am at being Tenses,

_Plural_ , which I do so verbally

Times __ six—yes, I've _six_ ways of being me:

I start out present, but I don't so last;

A moment—gone for good—I'm in the past;

How _bright_ my future, given I'm at present

Perfect—yet I was _more_ flawless (pleasant!)

When I went **past** perfect. My computure?

Still _more_ future perfect __ in my future!"

****

"Thanks to _me_! You'd not have set the tone

Of perfectly fatheaded overblown

Conceit—times _three—_ had I not made you simple

In the head, that swelled-to-bursting pimple

Of _verb_ osity that's so excessive

In swellheadedness, in tone progressive

In its vanity in those three tenses

So _I'mperfect_ in all their pretenses

Of that perfectly fatheaded attic.

On that tone, I can't be too emphatic."

My word! What a two-do! But, darlings, come. Who can tell us what the two, Tenses and Tones were having just now? . . . Eh? _A lovers' spat?_ Well, I must say it did have all the earmarks of one. My ears are still burning, as you can see; and if I read them right, yours are every bit as read. But, no, the answer is they were simply, progressively, _emphatically_ having the times, past, present, and future, of their lives. But now here's a riddle for you: Why did Tones throw the timepiece out the window? _Because she wanted to see time fly?_ Well, that's a good enough answer—if you're a little moron. Now now, Morency, don't cry. What I meant was you were _more on_ the ball than everyone else—and were perfectly right: she _did_ want to see time fly. And that's because the timepiece, otherwise known as Tenses, said _6:23_. That is, he said _six_ tenses _to_ her _three_ tones. And that __ was so broken, in her eyes, it wasn't even right twice a day. What's more, he had the colossal cheek to say a _seventh_ tense right on top of the six: pretense. So out the window went perfectly swellheaded Tenses, Tones hoping with all her might that he'd land upon that swellhead simply, progressively, and most em _fat_ ically __ somewhere in the far distant future— _perfect_.

Well, the two of them, or rather the nine, will make it up. Here's another riddle: Since Tenses so ungallantly went _before_ Tones, causing her, who is three kinds of a lady, to change her tone towards him completely, who can tell us what his so-full-of-himself swellheaded name is? . . . Well, it's Pretenses, isn't it? Okay, now that we know what Tenses is, who present can tell us briefly what tenses _are_? _Yes_ , stated ever so tersely, Scholarina. Each is **a statement of the time of action or state of being of a verb** —something it does in three primary or simple tenses: _present_ (I state); _past_ (I stated); _future_ (I will state); and three secondary or compound tenses: _present perfect_ (I have stated); _past perfect_ (I had stated); _future perfect_ (I will have stated). But had anyone cared to ask me (nobody asks), I could have stated it most _intensely_ : **Tense is being past a certain unspecified age—without having been made an honest bride of**. Yes, I know, it's not as good as ending a life sentence with a _prop_ osition, but it's the best I can do, isn't it?—in the present no less than in the past, but (dare I hope? yes, I can still hope) _not_ in the future. Yes, that would be _perfect_. But look here, I don't know about you, but I've had about all the tenses I can stand for one lesson—no, I take that back; I _do_ know about you, and you've had enough of them too.

Here's yet another riddle: When does Tones have more than three tones of voice?. . . No one? Well, it's when she's _for_ giving him a present perfect: the gift of time travel—right out the window _._ But come, what exactly are the three tones? Eh? _A singing group?_ Oh, of course, you're surely thinking of the McGuire Sisters (the dears), Christine, Dorothy, and Phyll— _Who are they?_ Well, they're a little before your time, that's who they are, I mean were (sigh). What? _Were they anything like the Dixie Chicks?_ Who are the _Dixie Chicks_? Look here, you're trying to get me off on another of my tears, so you won't have to learn about **Tone: the three manners of expressing a verb** , aren't you? So, come, who will atone for it by telling us what are the three tones? _Yes,_ Toneya, I was wondering at just what present perfect time we were going to hear you intone _the_ **_simple_** , ** _progressive_** , ** __**_and **emphatic**_ every bit as **** melodiously as rightly _._ And now, for all you youngsters out there, here they are, right here on our really big shew— ** _The_** _**Three Tones!**_

**Simple** : _present_ (I sing); _past_ (I sang); _future_ (I will sing); _present perfect_ (I have sung); _past perfect_ (I had sung); _future perfect_ (I will have sung)

**Progressive** : _present_ (I am singing); _past_ (I was singing); _future_ (I will be singing); _present perfect_ (I have been singing); _past perfect_ (I had been singing); _future_ ****_perfect_ (I will have been singing)

**Emphatic** : _present_ (I do sing); _past_ (I did sing); _future_ (I don't _DO _the future!)

The **Three Tones**! Let's have a big, okay, put your little hands together for them then—because they won't be back on our really big shew. One of them has just stated, in a most emphatic tone of voice, that it doesn't do the _future—_ what? _What's a really big shew?_ Oh come! It's the kind of show Ed Sullivan (sigh) had every Sunday night during the '50s and '60s— _Who's Ed Sulliban?_ Well, he's _dead_ (sniff)—isn't he?—all these years! And I hope you're satisfied with so dating me now (the only ones who do), and setting such a somber tone for Ernestine the telephone operator— _no_ , don't ask. She's one ringy-dingy dame whose future (she's standing by too) is only slightly less frustrating than mine in tone, that other tone that's not about grammar so much as style (could _that_ be where I've been going wrong all these years? She does have that classy snort going for her). Why, I believe that's it! _I do_. Oh, darlings, I just know in my heart that we'll all be going so very right presently, since the near future has just agreed to do

**The Novel Rules of Tenses and Tones**

**Judge Roy Bean**

Use the correct tense to express precise time

**Andro Clauz and the Lion**

The tense of the verb in a subordinate clause depends on the tense of the verb in the main clause

**Jesus Christ**

Use a present infinitive except when the infinitive represents action completed before that of the governing verb

**Airy-Anna Huffington, the Three Little Pigs**

When narration in the past tense is interrupted for reference to a preceding event, use the past perfect tense

**Party Hearst**

A present participle indicates action expressed at the time of the verb

**Donald Rumsfeld, Dubya Bush**

A past participle indicates action before that of the verb

**Lord Baden-Powell, Juliette Gordon Low**

Be consistent in the use of tense

**Ernestine the telephone operator**

Use the correct tone to express precise meaning

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Verbs and Verbals**

**Sir Edmund Hillary, Tenzing Norgay**

Do not confuse the past tense and the past participle

****

**Sprachgefühl**

**Marie Antoinette, King Louis XVI**

Hold to one tense in a summary

**Use the correct tense to express precise time**

****

** **

****

**_"Hanging Judge" Roy Bean_** _had a foolproof method of telling precise time._

"Hang it all! No matter what time of day it is, I can always count on the hangee's tense expression for the precise time. It's clear the present hangee is in the **present** __ tense: he is stiff, and has been stiff for some time, putting him in the **present perfect** __ tense. Yet I saw he was stiff, and had been stiff for some time, putting him in the **past** and **past perfect** __ tense: So stiff I'll wager he always will be, in the **future** , __ tense. In a thousand years he will have been stiff for a _good_ millennium, putting him in the **future perfect** tense . . ."
**  
**

87. High Time That He Expressed Time with Right Tense

Judge Roy Bean, from his small saloon in Langtry,

Meted justice via Texas hang tree;

Hung a sign: "The Law West of the Pecos."

Time: before the time was told on Seikos.

Yet another thing was much proclaimed:

Roy Bean, "The Hangin' Judge," was aptly named.

He hanged 'em up, and hanged 'em good 'n' high,

So necks would be stretched long enough to _die_ ;

Just long enough in length to suit the crime,

And long enough to suit that lawless time.

Though on his wrist Judge Roy Bean wore no Seiko

(He watched morning's sun rise east of Waco),

He'd a way of judging time by strangling,

And could judge how long each had been dangling

Simply by one's lack of lively vigor,

Just how stiff each hangee was with rigor

Mortis—by the stiffness of their will,

And so he left them hangin' high until

Each hangee learned to (with a dead-on sense)

**Express precise time with the proper tense.**

"Hang it all! No matter what time of day it is," Judge Roy spat out, "I can always count on the hangee's properly tense expression for the precise time. Why, it completely lays over every other method of expressin' time. Take your present hangee, for example—an example for anyone else who thinks they can expectorate in public. It's clear the present hangee is in the **present** __ tense: he is stiff. It's also plain as day that the late lawbreaker is, at the same precise time, in the **past** __ tense: only a moment ago I saw he was stiff as could be, _passed_ tense. How stiff was he? So stiff I'll wager he always will be, as he is now, in the **future** , __ tense. What's more, the timely perfection of his bein' stiff in the present tense puts the satisfyingly rigor-mortised corpus dielicti in the **present perfect** __ tense: he has been stiff, in every crime-committin' mortise and tendon, for some dead on and equally tense time now. Yet a moment gone 'bye-bye' ago I couldn't help seein' that the sheer perfection of his bein' in the past had put his perfectly passed bein' in the **past perfect** tense: the late departed had been so tensely, perfectly stiff for a period of time as to be perfection personified. _Dead_ _person_ ified to be plum exact. Furthermore, you'll notice the deceased has completely ceased _spittin' in public_ , __ and I'll hang my hangin' hat on his always deceasin' from it in the **future perfect** tense: a thousand years from now he will have been perfectly stiff for a good millennium—though, hang it all, I'll never see him as anything but a bad _malefactor_. By that tense time the Japs, who, witnesses swear, are the spittin' image of Nips, will be mass-producin' the wrist watch, and a body'll be able to say, 'Well it's about high _time_ he was stiff—for the Seiko' us who can't abide _spittin'_ in the wild west!' I'll be hanged ( _hnnngk! hawk!_ ) if I'll let the wild west become _that_ wild."

**The tense of the verb in a subordinate clause depends on the tense of the verb in the main clause**

****

** **

****

_Escaped slave_ ** _Andro Clauz_** _, coming face to face with one sore lion, is perfectly tense._

"Well _of course_ you're tense, Andro Clauz; you're going to be lionized in the **present continuous** : _While the lion, the dependent claws, is drooling over the prospect of eating you alive_, you, the main Clauz, are trembling in fear; the **present perfect** : You have had your head in the lion's mouth, _although he has spared you_; __ the **future perfect** : You shall have been masticated _after the subordinate claws shall have devoured you_: the **future continuous** : You shall be digesting, _when the fully sated monarch shall be sleeping_ . . ." 
**  
**

88. Tossed in the Lion's Den, He tensed, and . . .

A slave, one Andro Clauz, escaped and fled

Unto the forest where a _lion_ bled

And agonized for that a nasty thorn

Did grieve his paw and make him sore forlorn.

Poor Andro Clauz, in fear of teeth and claws,

Was tense—and fled; but seeing those dread paws

Pursued him not, returned and went up to

The lion . . . cautiously ("What might he _do_?"),

As tense as one so lion-close could be,

And with the future tense of verb to _flee_

At hand for all that he was so afraid.

The lion _roared_ , __ sore tense to seek the aid

Of Andro Clauz, and proffered, of four paws,

The agonized one, thorn between its claws.

Tense, Andro Clauz removed the thorn and band-

aged up the paw. The lion licked his hand.

"No, I thank _you_ ," gushed Andro Clauz, "you showed

Me **The tense of the verb in** —and you're owed

Much— **a dependent claws depends on the**

— _Thanks!_ — **tense of the verb in the main Clauz**: me."

Shortly afterwards, Andro Clauz and the lion were captured, and a nervous Andro Clauz once more found himself with much to be tense about. "Well _of course_ you're tense," the outraged slave master said. "You're going to be fed to the lion—after it's been starved for a week. Just think of all the 'free' time you have to be tense, the **present continuous** __ for example: _While the lion, the dependent claws, is drooling over the prospect of eating you alive_, you, the main Clauz, are thinking about it. And the **present perfect** : you have had your head in the lion's mouth, _although he has spared you. _For now. Then there was the **past tense** : __ you fell into his clutches, _even as he hungered_. __ And the **past perfect** : you had escaped being eaten, _even though he hadn't eaten for a long time_. __ And then there's the **future perfect** : you shall have been masticated _after the subordinate claws shall have gotten hold of you_. And let's not forget the **future continuous** : you shall be digesting in the lion's full stomach, _when the satisfied monarch shall be sleeping_. Yet, at any given moment, the **present** tense is all one really has: _because the lion lives to eat_, you rightly tremble, and besoil yourself for fear. Yes, you have the luxury to be tense: past, present, future __ tense—even _sentence_. You can stand on your own, _while the lion is dependent on you for his next meal._ And, _since the lion is subordinate to a main Clauz_, I submit to you that that is the _ever present_ unrelenting __ tense." Thereupon the slave master had Andro Clauz tossed into the lion's den. Immediately the ravenous beast ran straight for Andro Clauz (who tensed as he had never tensed before) and . . . began licking his hands. The slave master had thought Andro'd be voraciously devoured, _whereas Andro Clauz had only dreamed LIFE! could be so past perfect_. Moral: In noble souls gratitude is in tense.

**Use a present infinitive except when the infinitive represents action completed before that of the governing verb**

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** **

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**_Jesus Christ_** _perfoms the Second Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes._

_I vowed **to** **chide** the wrongdoer._ [multitudinous gasp] "It's a blessed miracle! Jesus made an infinitive—out of thin air—and made it _present_." A Grammarian spake, "Hark unto me, O Israel-Lites. Jesus performed no miracle. He vowed (past tense) **to chide** (present infinitive) the wrongdoer. **To chide** does not represent action _before_ the governing verb vowed, so this use of the present infinitive is correct—but no miracle. For which Jesus is laughing now, at present, **to have made** perfect fools of you long before he laughed . . ."
**  
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89. He Fed the Multitudes Infinitive

In desert sands the multitudes did greet

("Lord!") Jesus Christ with their desire to eat.

And Jesus thought, to sate their verbal wishes

("Food!"), to miracle—by loaves? No, _fishes_ ;

Govern via fish infinitive:

An _endless_ , present finny thing to give

To them—but naught of _bread_ to sate their hunger.

Jesus, praised "Infinitive Fishmonger,"

Saw, for all their lazing on the ground,

That there was loaf enough to go around.

_Hark, fish infinitive, come now, be present,_

Jesus spake. The outcome wasn't pleasant:

_Lo!_ For some fin-lover's end (of fast),

The said infinitive was in the _past_.

The verb to eat had put an end to fin,

To miracle; and Jesus, for the sin,

Cried _,_ ** _Use a present_** _(tense) **infinitive**_

**_Except when the infinitive_** _( to live)_

**_Denotes an action that takes place before_**

**_The governing verb_**. _Go—and fin no more!_

__

Jesus spake unto himself, _Then one CAN put an end to an infinitive—a feat I had always thought impossible—unless, of course, one is God. It is nothing short of a miracle!_ And, nothing left of the infinitive, the multitudes hungered on. And Jesus spake unto himself anew, _Lo, am I to let Jesus Christ, the only son of God, be outmiracled by_ _a hungry child of God who, like unto a scavenger, sinfully put an end to my present infinitive—which I was about to turn into many and feed the multitudes?_ And he answered, _No, by God. Not by the not-here on my finny fin fin!_ Wherefore Jesus spake unto the hungering multitudes, _For I say unto you that I vowed **to** **chide** the wrongdoer._ And they gasped as one. "It's a blessed miracle! Where before there was no infinitive, Jesus made him one—out of thin air—and made it _present_ unto our ears, now as full of it!" Wherefore Jesus tucked his miraculous infinitive **to chide** (which the masses likened unto a miracle child) under his arm, and betook himself off to let the miraculousness of it all sink in. But, lo, it came to pass that one of the multitudes was a Grammarian from the land between the Sumerians and the Ephesians, and he spake unto the masses: "Hark unto me, O Israel-Lites. What Jesus hath performed here is no miracle [multitudinous gasp]. Behold! Jesus vowed (past tense) **to chide** (present infinitive) the wrongdoer. **To chide** does not represent action _before_ that of the governing verb vowed (no chiding took place before he vowed) so this use of the present infinitive is correct—but no miracle. For which Jesus is laughing now, at present, **to have made** perfect fools of you (he made perfect fools of you long before he laughed); thus he _had_ to use an infinitive other than one that was _present_ , in this case a _present perfect_ infinitive. Do you Israel-Lites see? If you do, _that_ would be a miracle!"

**When narration in the past tense is interrupted for reference to a preceding event, use the past perfect tense**

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** **

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_Her complexion past perfect,_ ** _Airy-Anna Huffington_** _, in the company of three little neo-con pigs, arrives at the White House for a feed of grouse at the public trough._

"One day I met three little pigs who—gross!— **had grown** bristly hair _all over_ their naked pink bodies, the revolting little oinkers! Well, I huffed and puffed that _I_ **had been** _past_ perfect when I was their age, and went huffingly on that I **had seen** to my personal grooming, so I **had looked** fabulously smooth-skinned throughout my youth by using Nair. 'Why don't you three _grow up_ and use Nairation,' I huffed. They _interrupted_ me and said the Head Oinker **had invited** them to the White House to feed at the public . . ."
**  
**

90. Past Perfect Her Complexion, So She'd Said

Met Airy-Anna Huffington one day

Three little neo-con pigs on their way

To scoff (the public trough, the age-old grouse)

Deep in the Bush (Republican White House).

They greeted her with stock tri-piglet loathing:

" _Big bad wolf_ —in _Democrat_ wolf's clothing!"

She, in one big Airy-Anna huff,

Dem threatened: "I'll, with one big Huffin' puff—

If you do not, for one swell feed of grouse,

Invite me, too—blow down the Bush White House."

But much as Airy-Anna truly loved

To grouse of the repast that trough pigs shoved

Down-throat, she interrupted her narration:

"I said I **had been** some _Hot_ [ _Air_ ation]

In the past— _past_ perfect. I . . . ." The present

Tense starved pigs saw she'd learned (goodbye pheasant):

**When Airation in** [God, what a _bore_!]

**The past tense**  _sow!_ ] [**is interrupted for**

Vain] **[reference to an event preceding,**

**Use " _past_ perfect" tense**. [Three grouse: "No _feeding_!"]

"O God!" the three little Republican pigs squirmed. "We've not yet reached boardom, and this Airy-Anna is _boring_ us to death by Huffing herself up with her on-and-on Airation about how _hot_ she was in the past. Here we are on our way to feed at the public trough, only to find she is no slouch at narration eith—" "So I told viewers—I'm a talking head, you know—that I **had been** a Democrat, symbolized by a jackass, all my life, and that I saw no reason to stop now—my skin really was lovely and smooth and creamy back then, you know. I huffed that I **had not gotten** it by way of narration but by another process I often resort to as a means of getting things off my chest: Nairation. I narrated that I **had been using** Nair®, a godsend of a depilatory, to remove unwanted hairs from my chest and elsewhere since puberty. I first applied it when I was twelve, after I **had noticed** the first disgusting black hairs—I'm Greek, you know—emerging. I did this every week and **had kept** my nubile young legs, arms, chest, upper lip, etc., alluringly free of repulsive body hair, which nicely puffed up my ego. One day I met three little pigs who—gross!— **had grown** bristly hair _all over_ their naked pink bodies, the revolting little oinkers! Well, I huffed and puffed that _I_ **had been** _past_ perfect when I was their age, and went huffingly on that I **had seen** to my personal grooming, so I **had looked** fabulously smooth-skinned throughout my youth. 'Why don't you three _grow up_ and use Nairation,' I huffed. They _interrupted_ me and said the Head Oinker **had invited** them to the White House to feed at the public trough, and would I like to go? Well, I _was_ a Democrat, but I was not such a past-perfect jackass (I was a crashing bore once) as to not see it was my chance—I never gamble, you know—to huff and puff and grouse a lot _and_ save my political skin . . .' "

**A present participle indicates action expressed at the time of the verb**

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** **

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**_ROBBING THE BANK, PARTY HEARST IS CAUGHT ON VIDEO BRANDISHING ASSAULT RIFLE_** _with SLA members Nancy Ling Perry and Donald DeFreeze._

"Outraged members of the jury, you have seen the video showing the defendant boldly committing the high crime, which the all-caps headline no less boldly screams out in such _grammatically correct_ detail. You see the defendant committing the crime _time_ and _time_ again. There is **PARTY HEARST** , wielding the _present_ participle **ROBBING**. At the same time she is using the third-person singular, _present_ tense, of the verb to be, **IS** —proof beyond a reasonable doubt that she was _present_ at the scene of the time. . . ."

91. A Present Party Symple, She Was Dead

Young Party Hearst was quite the callow, simple

Party-goer gal—oh, quite the dim pal

Of the action verb to party [rapping].

" _Come_ , be party to your own kidnapping.

Get this: we're inviting you to be

A party, girl, to an _armed robbery_."

She: "Gee, that sounds like quite a lot of fun,

Going into some bank with a loaded gun

With members of the SLA—I'll go,

If only to be _caught_ on video."

The vid caught her id present with the smarmy

Symbionese Liberation Army.

"Give the _Sym_ ple Party girl _hard_ time,

The State cried, "for her verbing-action crime!"

The jury had a great time at the Party

For the part she played; and for her part, she,

Hearst, expressed, "(Sob) **_Seven_** hard _hard_ years!

It proves **A present Party Symple** [tears,

Sobs] **indicates** wail] **[action that's expressed**

**At _time_ of the verb**!" __ [beating sounds (her breast)]

**ROBBING** **THE BANK, PARTY HEARST IS CAUGHT ON VIDEO BRANDISHING ASSAULT RIFLE** the non-Hearst newspaper headline screamed. "Outraged members of the jury," the lead prosecutor sums up, "Exhibit A, as you can see, is not your everyday garden-variety newspaper headline, pruned of all unnecessary auxiliaries, articles, syntax—lucky for us. You have seen the video showing the defendant boldly committing the high crime, which the all-caps headline no less boldly screams out in such _grammatically correct_ detail. And just like the video, each time we view the headline we see the defendant committing the crime _time_ and _time_ again. There is **PARTY HEARST** , the defendant, wielding the _present_ participle **ROBBING** , while at the same time she is using the third-person singular, _present_ tense, of the verb to be, **IS** —proof beyond a reasonable doubt that she was _present_ at the scene of the time. As if that weren't overwhelming proof of her guilt, there, mid-sentence, **HEARST** **IS** ** CAUGHT** boldly committing yet a third act of _present_ time, **BRANDISHING** , all of which is screaming, 'I'm presently guilty, so it's high time I was sentenced to _hard_ time.' The prosecution rests." " _Sym_ pathizers of the jury," the lead defense counsel rebuts, "the prosecution has asked you to look at the headline-cum-harsh sentence. I ask you all to do the same. Do we not see that **PARTY HEARST IS** **ROBBING , BRANDISHING**, and that the underlined verb and participles, _all_ in the present tense, clearly underscore that she is in perfect grammatical agreement, thus, her **ASSAULT RIFLE** notwithstanding, there is no crime? I move that she be released for time _perfectly_ well served." The headline screamed: **MAINTAINING** **HER INNOCENCE, "PARTY GIRL" HEARST IS SENTENCED TO SEVEN YEARS, WHICH TIME, PRESENTLY, IS BEING PERFECTLY WELL SERVED**!"
**  
**

**A past participle indicates action before that of the verb**

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** **

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**_George "Dubya" Bush and Donald "Rummie" Rumsfeld_** _shmooze it up at the rum Republican Party._

**Having _poured_** himself a few and **having _tossed_** them **back** , Rummie, **** cosied up to the president: "I've gotta hand it to you, Dubya, this is one rum party you're throwin' here." "I sure do depreciate the after-dinner complimint, Rummie. I guess you **havin' _bein'_ _appointed_** fee-male Secertary and all, you rums felt—get it?—that you had to curdle my favors with a flattery." "I never misunderestimated you. **Havin' _fished_** for complimints before, I knew to bring along my George Dubya Bush Nucular Gaffe Hook® . . ."
**  
**

92. That Rummie Was One Past-Doubt Participle

Glum, Donald Rumsfeld, known inside as "Rummie"

For the rum he drank (he drank a sum, he),

Since his Uncle Sam was on the brink

Of war (Iraq), increased the verb to drink,

For, as Sam's Secretary of Defense,

He owed it to himself (made no pretense

About its being for the U.S. good)

To fortify _himself_ as best he could

Against the stress, so had one, for his part, he,

Rum Republican "Rum served here" Party.

In this pub's where Rummie drank his rum,

With Cheney, Powell, Bush—each pubbing chum.

The mounting stress of a pre-emptive war

Made Rummie down his rum shots all the more,

Each double making him the less afraid

Of (gulp) the action verb (gulp) to invade.

His rumming action caused him to pass out,

And leave his sipping buddies not a doubt:

**A passed** -out] [**party-sip-pal indicates**

Gulp] [**action pre- that of the verb** __ [predates].

**Having _drunk_** his rum, Rummie felt no pain. All he felt was good at having _used_ the past participle to indicate action that took place before that of the verb (felt). Yes, to feel or not to feel, that was the question; and Rummie, at the dizzying high of his career in the Grand Old Party, knew the answer: "I sure as hell don't want to feel _guilty_ ," he said in his own defense. " **Having _risen_** __ up through party ranks, I am now the (gulp) Secretary of Defense—and, by God, I'm going to do everything in my new power shot glass (gulp) to fortify my defenses against attack from the right ('You're taking a tack that is just right, Mr. Secretary'); but, more important, from a tacky assault from the far left ( _'Imperialist warmonger!'_ )." **Having _poured_** himself a few and, as a second tried and tested line of defense, **having _tossed_** them back, Rummie, drunk with power, or rather powered with drunk, cosied up to the President: "I've gotta hand it to you, Dubya," Rummie shmoozed, "this is one rum party you're throwin' here, or I don't know my rum parties." "Well heck, I sure do depreciate the after-dinner complimint there, Rummie. I guess you **havin' _bein'_ _appointed_** fee-male Secertary and all, you rums felt—get it? Rumsfeld/rums felt?—that you had to curdle my favors with a flattery, and, like I said, **havin' _bein'_ _delivered_** , I sure do depreciate it. But I thought _you_ were throwin' the party." " **Havin' _bein'_ _edumacated_** _,_ " Rummie ruminisced (a self-serving mix of fluent Dubyaspeak and pure fluid Rummie), "I never misunderestimated you for a minute. **Havin' _fished_** for complimints before, I knew to bring along my George Dubya Bush Nucular Gaffe Hook® I got down at the Gaffes-R-Us Ranch in Crawdad, TX." " **Havin' _bein' defeated_** by me in two000, the demoCrats disassembled the truth about me—but you put me back together real good, Rummie."

**Be consistent in the use of tense**

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_Boy Scouts founder_ ** _Lord Baden-Powell_** _, Girl Scouts founder_ ** _Juliette Gordon Low_** _._

"Girls—and _not one boy allowed!_ Lord Baden-Powell has made the Con-Sis Tent the Official Tent of _Boy_ Scouts everywhere, but he is maddeningly _in_ consistent in his use of unofficial tense. Listen to his male-boyased manual _Scouting—for **Boys**_ : 'A stouthearted, plucky boy was scouting in Surewood Forest one day (boys had always been sure of themselves in the woods) when out of the blue (it will be more of a deep forest green) a great Snowy Owl came swooping down from a tall evergreen. It brushes his scalp . . ."
**  
**

93. Consistent in his Use of Tents? Oh Lord!

Lord Baden-Powell, in founding the Boy Scouts,

Was sure of many things, but had his doubts

About which tent to make 'Official Tent

Of Boy Scouts' everywhere, and so he spent

A pile of pounds, and many a cold night

In different brands to find the one just right

—For _boys_ , for Baden-Powell (say Baden-POLE)

Was not Powellitically correct; his whole

Scout bias was intent on each _boy_ scout,

And his intent was _Keep all girls out!_

He tested Present, Past, and Future Tents.

Bust: none were solely boy embodiments.

He thought, Well surely Present, Future, Past,

Yes, _Perfect_ Tents will perfectly outcast

The Boys' "We want to be scouts _too_ , Lord!" sisters.

None kept out these "Girls want _in!_ " enlisters.

Then he found a tent with _boy_ cott skin

(Thick) contra-letting girl _in_ sisters in.

He never failed, Lord Baden-Powell, hence,

To **Be Con-Sis Tent® in the use of tents**.

"Girls—and _not one boy allowed!_ " girl scout founder Juliette Gordon Low began. "Lord Baden-Powell has made the Con-Sis Tent the Official Tent of _Boy_ Scouts everywhere, and won't touch another tent with a ten-foot Baden-Powell. He is maddeningly consistent in his use of the Con-Sis Tent—and as _in_ consistent in his use of unofficial tense. To show what contempt he has for such unofficial tense, let us cast our scorn-rims _down_ upon his male-boyased manual _Scouting—for **Boys**_ : 'A stouthearted, plucky boy was scouting in Surewood Forest one day (boys had always been sure of themselves in the woods) when out of the blue (it will be actually more of a deep forest green) a great Snowy Owl came swooping down from a tall evergreen straight at him. It brushes his scalp as if it had been an Indian brave counting coup, then swooped up into a majestic oak tree where it perches looking down on him. "He will be a wise owl," the boy thinks. "Owls have been known as smart birds. A boy had been wise to study the owl, and when he has learned all the owl knew he will know the ways of the woods and became very wise as well. Then he can go around telling people things they haven't learned for themselves because they aren't ever a Scout like he is. When he will have done these and other good deeds like helping little old ladies across the forest path, then everybody had said he was a good boy since he has done good deeds and was a credit to his country. Then he will be able to use his wisdom and have figured out an easier way that he is being a Boy Scout than he was shlepping his inconsis-tense around Surewood Forest." ' Well, GAMBITs, Girls Against Male Boyas In Tents, do we care they won't let us in? No. We have our own tense—and we would not be caught _dead_ in any dumb boyish inconsis-tense with a ten-foot Baden- _Been_ -Powell!"

**Use the correct tone to express precise meaning**

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** **

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_"This is_ ** _Ernestine_** _, your telephone operator. A moment ago I **was** reaching out and touching someone in the past progressive; now I **am** reaching out and touching someone in the present progressive; soon I **will be** reaching out and touching someone in the future progressive._

"Snorting crack cocaine may work for some party-line operators operating outside the law, but what works for me, one ringy-dingy touch-toney operator, is snorting wisecrack. If I'm _simply_ tense I'll touch my hair and snort in the _simple tone_ : I snort, I snorted, I shall snort. When I'm _progressively_ more tense, my snort takes on a _progressively snarkier tone_ : I am snorting, I was snorting, I shall be snorting. But when I'm _emphatically_ tense, my snort takes on an _emphatic tone_ : __ I _do_ snort, I _did_ snort . . ."
**  
**

94. She Used Correct Tone to Express Demeaning

Call Ernestine, the Ma Bell operator.

No mean end-of-the-line aggravator,

She'll be _meaner_ than your median

Mean operator-cum-comedienne:

Her 'ringy-dingy' phone-smart-aleck tone

Comes with her being touchy on the phone:

She'll touch a nerve, then touch her high-coifed hair,

Then snort to find it Ernestinely there.

Her earnest tone (one hears she is no phony)

Won her top Ma Bell Award—a Toney.

Meaner, yes, than your mean operator,

Ernestine, at snorting—oh, _much_ greater:

Customer demeaner (no regrets),

With her first putdown snort one quickly gets

The clear impression, by this nasalize tack

She takes often, "Nice! she's snorting _wise_ crack."

_Customers are always_ _wrong_ 's the tone

She takes, and she corrects them— _fast_ —au phone.

She knows to **Use correct tone** [intervening

Snorting] **to express precise** de][ **meaning**.

"Snorting crack cocaine may work for some party-line operators operating outside the law, but what works for me, one ringy-dingy operator, is snorting wisecrack. And no one snorts a line like I snort it; I've got a natural touch tone for it, instinctively snorting just the right tone into my wisecracking. If I'm _simply_ tense from not having snorted in the last minute, I'll lay down a line and, touching my hair, snort in the _simple tone_ : I snort in the _present_ ; I snorted in the _past_ ; I shall snort in the _future_ ; I have snorted in the _present perfect_ ; I had snorted in the _past perfect_ ; I shall have snorted in the _future perfect_. When I am _progressively_ more tense, as I become whenever some liberal progressive pushes my conservative buttons, my snort takes on a _progressively snarkier tone_ : I am snorting in the _present progressive_ ; I was snorting in the _past progressive_ ; I shall be snorting in the _future progressive_ ; I have been snorting in the _present perfect progressive_ ; I had been snorting in the _past perfect progressive_ ; __ I shall been have snorting in the _future perfect progressive_.' But when I'm _emphatically_ tense, as I always get when some fathead's on the line, well, then my snort automatically takes on an _emphatic tone_ —and __ I _do_ snort in the _present_ as I _did_ snort in the _past._ But that's as emphatically tense as I allow myself to get for having met one more phony Tony who, thinking he's stringing me a line, says to me, 'Ernestine, you've been very demean to me, but I'll let you atone for it by being just plain mean to me in the ringy-dingy future. I'll call you.' 'No,' I'll snort, feeling touchy (good, not a hair out of place), 'I'll call _you_ —so you can be a _phonee_ as well as a Tony Award–winning _phony._ By the bye (snort), what's your ringy-dingy touch-toney number, hon—just in case I get the urge to reach out and touch someone (snort) besides myself.' "

16. Moods

_Whenever, at a party, I have been in the mood to study fools, I have always looked for a great beauty: they always gather round her like flies around a fruit stall._

—Jean Paul Richter

**Don't Blame Me If I Give You Attitude**

"Don't blame me if I give you attitudes;

See, I'm _supposed_ to give you those—I'm Moods.

I give them to you so that you will _think_

A certain way about the speech or ink

You hear or read about (undeaf, unblind)

And consequently have a state of mind

About each verb form's factuality

Or likelihood of actuality

Expressed, so if I give you _attitudes_ ,

The fact is I give you my _all_ —three moods:

"Indicative's the one I mostly give

You just to state the facts—here's one: _You live_.

And chances are your attitude is good

About that—but note, 'If you were _. . ._ you would _. . ._ '

Is my subjunctive way of giving you

The opposite of fact (it isn't true):

A wish, hypothesis—but I can just

As easily command you that you _must_

Do this! Do that! and you'll resent my rude

Imperative—and give _me_ attitude!"

Pity poor Moods, darlings! Even when she's feeling positive, optimistic, upbeat, even magnanimous, she's accused of being moody. "It's always the same," she complains in one of her more resentful moods. "No matter what temper of mind I am in, or prevailing fashion or manner I am affecting, I hear (they don't think I do, but I do) 'Oh, she's just in another one of her moods.' And every time I overhear it, it puts me in a downright sullen mood. 'Why is it,' I want to shout, 'that I am always represented as _she_?' I know many a _he_ ," she smolders, in an increasingly agitated mood, "and every single one of them is every bit as moody as I am—if not a lot more so. And the one thing they're _always_ in the mood for is . . ." and she trails off in her standard fallback vacant mood.

Class, three other moods she is commonly found to be in are the **indicative** , **subjunctive** , __ and __**imperative**. Let's discuss them. First, who can tell us what my most recent mood was? Yes, _imperative_ , __ just the moody material I was looking for, Moodonna, but then you always were a material girl, weren't you, dear? But just so you'll know, when you raise your hand you needn't hold in it _every_ material good you've come to possess, including (sigh) your adopted African baby young enough to be your grandson. But I guess that's to be expected when you're a slow learner, isn't it? But setting aside the mood _so envious I could cry_ , let us, since I'm once more in an _imperative_ mood, discuss them:

**Indicative:** This is the mood that fact built; the prevailing one we commonly use to either express a fact (Material things can't make you happy) or ask a question of fact (Why, oh why, God, couldn't _I_ have a baby?), so called because any such statement or question of cold, hard fact is expressly worded to indicate, in the most matter-of-fact, _Why-not- **me?**_ fashion, the heartbreaking unfairness of life.

**Subjunctive:** This is the mood that contrary-to-fact built; the one you use to express a wish (I wish I were married); an 'if'fy situation (Oh, if only I were young, voluptuous, stinking rich, famous, and couldn't sing a note, except the kind I take, laughing, to the bank, I'd have it all); a demand (I _insist_ that I be given my due! My demand is that I be given a brand new _beautiful_ -head start!); necessity (It is most essential that I be given a husband); intention (I propose that he be required to propose to me on bended knee)—oh, but why am I torturing myself so subjunctively when Donald Trump, Jerry Garcia, Winston Churchill, Francis Gary Powers (sigh) can do so ever so much better than I.

**Imperative:** This is the mood that _Attract!_ built, wherein you imperiously command yourself to be so attractive that those whom _you_ are attracted to are powerless to resist you. (Put on your best face. Put your best foot forward. Hide your faults. _Don't_ tell him what skeletons you have in the closet. Be alluring. Be coy. Make the law of attractions work for you. Charm him. Bewitch him. Make a knockout first impression. Appear to be helpless and, more important, dumber than him. Tell him smilingly what he wants to hear. Flatter him silly [nothing makes you more attractive than this]. And don't forget, in every instance, to make "you," the one subject you want him to fall head over heels for, understood. Finally, explain to yourself, as best you can, why, all your life, this has never worked for you. Don't skip a thing.) Good, now leave off sighing and introduce

**The Novel Rules of Moods**

**Donald Trump**

In parallel constructions, do not shift the mood of verbs

**Declarabelle Cow**

Use the indicative mood to express a fact or to ask a question of fact

**Francis Gary Powers**

Use the subjunctive were after _as though_ or _as if_ to express doubt or uncertainty

**Bob Weir, Jerry Garcia**

Use the subjunctive were to express a condition that is hypothetical

**Winston Churchill**

Use the subjunctive in _that_ clauses expressing necessity or a parliamentary motion

**Elsie the Borden Cow**

Use the imperative mood to express a command

**Paul Revere, William Dawes**

Use the imperative mood to express a strong/polite request

**In parallel constructions, do not shift the mood of verbs**

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** **

****

_Donald Trump_ _undergoes a major mood shift at the downing of Trump Towering Ego._

"I'm so rich I keep _three_ moods on the payroll—24/7: _indicative_ , _imperative_ , and _subjunctive_ , and at every moment I have to decide: which mood Trumps the other two? If I want to express or ask a question of fact ('This property is overpriced.' 'Who designed this skysore?') I have to choose the _indicative_ , __ then tell the other two, 'You're fired!' If I want to express a command ('Take it or leave it.'); a polite request ('Come in.'); a strong one ('Wipe your feet!'); or an order ('Get out!'), I have to frame it in the _imperative_. . . ."
**  
**

95. He Shifted the Verb's Mood, and Got The Shaft

Big real estate build-higher Donald Trump

Was one thing: no skyscraper-building chump.

He knew exactly what estate was real,

And, champion of the art of the deal,

To sate his in-the-mood-to-build desire,

He built on it, higher, ever higher.

By way of his wealth, his tycoon power,

Up went HIGHER skyline-topping tower.

Others built; the Donald, though, was best,

The reason plain: he simply Trumped the rest.

One time he'd ten constructions going skyward,

Five each side Park Avenue, so HIGHward

Even Trump began to fear their height.

"I build" (its very mood did not seem right).

"Construct one more!" seemed worst of his three moods.

"I wish some shift might right their attitudes."

He made such shift—his buildings fell down— _flat_!

And if you see him, God, don't mention that

**In parallel constructions** [this perturbs

The Donald], **do not shift the mood of verbs**.

"You think it's _easy_ being a billionaire land developer?" the Donald fired off. "The mean working stiff is in the mood for something or he isn't. True, that lone mood, like every story, has two sides to it, good and bad, but, when all is mood and done, it's but one state or temper of mind—and that's as much as your average Joe or Josephine can afford. But I'm so rich I can afford to keep _three_ moods on the payroll—24/7: _indicative_ , _imperative_ , and _subjunctive_. Talk about lifestyles of the rich and moody! But with such wealth comes responsibility: at every moment I have to make a decision: which mood Trumps the other two? If I want to express or ask a question of fact, such as 'This property is overpriced' and 'Who designed this skysore?' I have to choose the _indicative_ , __ then tell the other two, 'You're fired!' If I want to express a command ('Take it or leave it.'); a polite request ('Come on in.'); a strong one ('Wipe your feet!'); or an order ('Get out!'), I have to frame it in the _imperative_. If I want to express an improbability or an impossibility, such as "If I were homeless, I would shoot myself," I must put it in the _subjunctive_. __ Imagine, then, my troubles when I start out, "If I were you . . . ," shift to ". . . and I was homeless . . . ," and again shift to " _Go shoot_ yourself!" After a double shift like that I'd be in every mood but a good one. So I'd feel all the more compelled to build my towering ego—UP—HIGHER than it's ever been—so high nobody will _ever_ top it. That would put me in a HIGH-self-esteem mood. That is, until, in an extreme Muslim fundamentalist mood, some so-called hijackers (the _lowest of the low!_ ) should knock my twin towers, North Ego/South Ego, down flat! I'd be in _three_ _deflated_ moods all at once: 'My self-esteem is in ruins! Look, _don't_ tell me things could be far worse! Oh, God, if only _one_ of them were still standing."

**Use the indicative mood to express a fact or to ask a question of fact**

****

** **

****

**_Declarabelle Cow_** _in one of her moods._

"I declare, I do so love mooing in the declarative mood, which some who aren't me call the indicative mood. This is so whether I'm cowliloquizing or engaging in typical bovine cowmunication. I love asking a question of fact, such as 'I declare, the grass certainly is long and sweet and green this spring, isn't it?' or expressing a fact, like 'Farmer Milker, I declare, my udder's about to burst and be an utter flooder. If you don't express my milk _soon_ , I'm going to have to express myself, and the outcome will be less than sweet . . .' "
**  
**

96. Indicative? Declarative Her Mood

Declarabelle Cow, in her one stock mood,

Declarative, her one cow attitude,

Was dying to express (no mooed abatement),

Once more, her declarative mooed statement,

So to fall on Farmer Milker's ear:

" _Please!_ Farmer M.—I've had it!—up to _here_ ,

And I'm not going to take it anymore

—Or _make_ it for that matter!" She was sore,

And she expressed herself expressly loud,

For she, Declarabelle, would not be cowed:

"Look, Farmer Milker, I declare my udder,

Set to burst and be an utter _flooder_ ,

Bags the question (fact), _Why don't you milk me,_

_Spare me the congestion?_ —Farmer, _help_ me!

Surely my mood's plenty indication

To urge, _Ple-ease, express all_ _my lactation!_ "

Her mood falling on his one deaf ear,

Declarabelle learned, when he didn't hear:

**Use the _indicative_ mooed to** [un"lac"ed]

**Express or ask a question** __  _Why . . . ?_ ] [**of fact**.

"Well I declare," Declarabelle mooed, "I do so love mooing in the declarative mood. And this is so whether I'm cowliloquizing, or, as I most often am, engaging in typical bovine cowmunication. I'll moo, 'Well I declare,' then go on to complete my declaration with some such utterance as, 'the grass certainly is long and sweet and green this spring, isn't it?' or 'I swear I don't know _why_ Farmer Milker put this bell around my neck. One has only to listen to know precisely where in the pasture I am tinkling—the _bell_ I mean—at any time of night or day.' I declare I don't know _what_ Farmer Milker was thinking when he put it there. _Oh_ , there's that strange new breed of cow Farmer Milker just added to the herd. I declare, I think I'll just tinkle on over and break the ice, so to moo, and engage this peculiar bovine in a little sociable cowlloquy. [some tinkles later] Well I declare, **** my name's Declarabelle, and I'm in the mood to know just what kine of mixed cow breed you are. You moo like a Highland Pedagogue, but with the accent of an English Didact." "Hmmph! As my breed, _Indicative Mooer_ , amply indicates, I'm a prize species of Moody Grammarian, a cross between the Pedagogue and the Didact—aren't I? And what _really_ makes me cross is when some _Philistine_ doesn't know enough to use the _indicative_ mood to express a fact or ask a question of fact, and not the _declarative_ —which is a _sin_ onym! Why do you think, though that's obviously a cognitive process absent in your _declarative_ breed, Farmer Milker introduced me into the herd? To engage you in small cowlloquy? moo in the same declarative—most _simple_ and basic—mood as you?" Poor Declarabelle was so taken aback that she used the _imperative_ mood for the first time in her sweet life: "Oh . . . oh . . . go to h-e-double forelegs, I declare, in the cowlossally _contented_ mood!"

**Use the subjunctive _were_ after _as though_ or _as if_ to express doubt or uncertainty**

****

** **

****

_CIA spy pilot_ ** _Francis Gary Powers_** _accompanies the U-2 spy plane in spirit, **as if** , **as though** he were alive. _

"Were I alive and in the _subjunctive_ mood today, I would not be in the _good_ mood. The plan was to fly the U-2 at 70,000 feet— **as if** I were _safe_ at that rarefied altitude! Well I'm high-spying over Sverdlovsk, trying to pronounce it, when a highflying SAM explodes near the U-2's tail, the U-2 goes into a tailspin, and I'm praying out loud to God on High ( **as if** he were actually higher than I was at that point) **as though** I were about to buy the farm. Well at 15,000 feet I succeed in cutting my umbilical cord, and I bail out. . . ." 
**  
**

97. He Used Subjunctive _Were_ As If, As Though . . .

High in his U-2 spy plane [worried frown]

Spy Francis Gary Powers was shot down

To shiver in the Cold War Russia clime;

In colder sweat hear, sentenced for his crime,

_Ten long, cold years!_ Before two had gone by

He won release, exchanged for Russian spy

Upon a bridge in Potsdam, Germany.

Phew! _Free!_ A prisoner no longer, he

Heaved such a sigh; but short was his relief,

Flown home (to soon be shot down by the Chief?).

Back home, no job, he heaved more heavy sigh.

He had to work at _something_ to get by.

KNBC TV had need, he heard,

Of "pilot for a traffic whirlybird,"

As though, as if to spy, catch someone die

_Live!_ on "Car-chase TV." He took to sky

A less-than-junky bird (he'd doubt for sure),

But he'd been trained: **Use the sub-junktive "whir"**

 _Crash!_ ] [**after _as though_ or** __ [died, "live" TV]

**_As if_ to doubt, express uncertainty**.

"Were I alive and in the _subjunctive_ mood today, I would undoubtedly not be in the _good_ mood (one at a time's the rule). I mean how was I, a U-2 pilot, to know that in one life I'd get both _Alive!_ shot out of the sky and a 'live shot' out of the sky? Maybe I should have clued in that my U-2 ('twice unlucky' I'd come to learn) was trying to tell me something. But way back in May, 1960, three long years before President Kennedy was shot down, who knew? The plan was to fly the U-2 at 70,000 feet— **as if** I were _safe_ at that rarefied altitude! Well I'm high-spying over Sverdlovsk, trying to pronounce it, when a highflying SAM explodes near the U-2's tail, the U-2 goes into a tailspin, and I'm praying out loud to God on High ( **as if** he were actually higher than I was at that point) **as though** I were about to buy the farm. Well at 15,000 feet I succeed in cutting my umbilical cord, and I bail out. I parachute on down and land in some farmer's field, so 'lucky' me, I don't buy it. Instead, I'm arrested, put on trial for _spying_ , and sentenced to ten years in Lubyanka. I do twenty-one months, then I'm exchanged for Soviet spy Rudolph Abel on a cold bridge in Potsdam, Germany, and flown unceremoniously home—in a military transport plane— **as if** I were not some kind of a national hero. Out of a job, I had to do something, so I go to work for KNBC TV. The station manager treats me like some rookie— **as if** I were not a famous Cold War spy—and wants me to take this traffic chopper, that's basically _less_ than a pile of junk, up. Well, I had mouths to feed, so up I go in this sub-junktive, and— _DAMN!_ (I'm near the Sepulveda Dam)—I totally run out of gas (faulty fuel gauge), and _down_ I come—no parachute this time, baby—and _CRASH!_ I'm killed instantly! ('U 2?' the dead sigh.) Now here I am talking to you **as though,** **as if** I were alive. _Who knew?_ "

**Use the subjunctive _were_ to express a condition that is hypothetical**

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** **

****

_Grateful Dead founding members_ ** _Jerry Garcia and Bob Weir_** _on the "junc."_

"O _God!_ If only I was hypothetic Bob Were; if only _I_ was not so addicted—I might have saved Jerry. God, I know: _If wishes was horses, beggars would ride._" "Man, _were_ it true, Bob!" "O G-G-God, is that _y-you_ , man." "No, man, it's me, Jerry." "J-J- _Jerry?_ B-B-But you're _d-d-dead._ " "And Grateful Dead to be out of the madness. But I had to come back from the dead/Dead to add: _If wishes were **horse**_ , _beggars would fly HIGH_. But, Bobbie, you wanna stop usin'/abusin' that non-subjunctive was. That junk'll _kill_ ya, man! . . ."
**  
**

98. They Both Were on the Junk. It Killed Them Both

His head hung down, Bob Weir sighed, "It was fateful:

Meeting Jerry, forming up the Grateful

Dead. Man, looking back now makes me cry

To see that he, Garcia, sought a high

Beyond the music. Finding heroin,

He straightway sunk addiction's arrow in

—And hyped it: 'What a _trip_ this horse is, man,

It couldn't hurt a fly; the body can

Adapt—hell, look at me, I'm diabetic.

Hasn't hurt _me_.' Sad? It was pathetic,

"His condition. 'O God, if I _were_

(I wish I'd wished back then) strong, mood-mature

Bob Were, I'd tell him, "Jerry, all your hype

Of heroin is bull! pure _addict's_ tripe

—That junk will _kill_ you!" ' But, well, who was I

To tell him, 'Keep that up, you're going to die!'

When _I_ was under junc's spell—would abuse

It daily. Weak myself _,_ how could I **_Use_**

**Sub-junktive Weir** —me— **to express a** 'bull!'

**Condition that is hype-pathetical**.

"O _God!_ If only I was hypothetic Bob Were; if only I was not so addicted myself—I might have [sobbing] saved Jerry. Oh, I know, God: _If wishes was horses, beggars would ride._" [voice from on high] "Man, _were_ it true, Bob!" [Bob lifting his head] "O G-God, is that _y-you_ , man—I mean _Father_ of." "No, man, it's me, Jerry." "J-J- _Jerry?_ _Garcia?_ B-B-But you're _d-d-dead._ " "And Dead: Grateful Dead to be out of the madness. But I just had to come back from the dead/Dead, man, to add: _If wishes were **horse**_ , _beggars would fly HIGH_. But, look, you wanna stop usin'/abusin' that lack-of-subjunctive was—that crap'll _kill_ ya, man!" "Oh, Jerry, I know—if only you was alive to watch out for me—as I didn't for you! But what can I do? I'm Bob _Weir_ ('Weird,' without the dopey 'd'). I would be so so-o grateful if I was Bob Were! I'd be _singing_ 'If only you were alive and I were able to make music with you again!—and go right on _correctly_ expressing all such hypothetical conditions, however improbable or impossible. But it's as if he, God, was vengeful, was _sadistic_ , __ and, for some original sin I didn't commit to, just has to put 'if I was's in my big mouth so I'll be raked over the indicative coals by every mood-enhancing grammarian for my less-than-subjunctive sins, and hit with: 'Man, you need to take LARGE amounts of mood-altering substances!' " "Now _that_ 's my idea of tough love, man. If I weren't dead/Dead I would add, 'Not every clause that begins with that saddest of words 'if' calls for the subjunctive: 'If I was alive I didn't know it,' and 'If God was present I didn't see Him' (expressing doubt or ignorance of past events) are correct. Hey, man, what a long, strange subjunctive trip it's been, but I've gotta get back to the _Real_ Grateful Dead." " _No_ , Jerry, _sta_ —. Oh well, at least I got to hear you for a second, or second coming, as it was."

**Use the subjunctive in _that_ clauses expressing necessity or a parliamentary motion**

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** **

****

**_Winston Churchill_** _, 1895; Donald J. Trump, 1964._

_"I move that some 'great' world leader to come follow in my bootsteps; that he be a chip off the old bulldog; that he part his hair like me; that he build a 'yuge' beautiful wall; that Mexico pay for it. _

"Furthermore, it is essential **_that_** one _ set straight_ a petty matter in the House of Lords, namely, the esteemed member from Char-on-Cross (I move _**that** he be so_ _burned at the stake_ ). Though he would argue **_that_** _he need not be reminded_, __ I move **_that_** _his poor memory be jogged, **that** it recall his having said_, __ 'In three weeks he will have his neck wrung like a chicken.' Some chicken! Some neck! Now, in a giddy mood, I move **_that_** _each applaud my use of the subjunctive; **that** each say_, 'This was his finest hour.'. . ."
**  
**

99. He Well Expressed Himself with the Subjunctive

Poor Winston Churchill, in the darkest years

Of World War II, expressed blood, sweat, and tears.

War's end, thrown out of office, on the street,

He sweated what he'd work at just to eat.

"You're such a natural, Win, at expressing

Body fluids when, as now, you're stressing.

Who _bled_ like you, _wept_ , __ a young hussar!

Well, why not open up a flesh-juice bar,"

Wife Clementine urged, "put to its best uses

Win, your gift: expressing flesh-pressed juices?

"But it's getting harder now—your chunky

Body juicer's summat under _junky_.

With Prime Juicester® you could out-juice—sweet!—

That _Klaus Fuchs_ Parliament moved must _secrete_

Atomic secrets: Russia wants them due

To pressing cold-war need—to out-juice you."

Win tried it; his expressing took a spin

—Woe! Winnie learned: **Use the _sub-junktive_ , in**

**_That Klaus is_** much] [**expressing** [leaked an ocean!]

**What must be, or Parliamentary motion**.

Out-juiced by leaky Russian spy Klaus Fuchs, Winnie, in a sour mood, bubbled resolve: "Let me therefore brace myself to my duty, since it is essential **_that_** _I be strong; **that** the British Commonwealth and English grammar last for a thousand years; **that** all mankind say_, 'This was his finest hour.' An hour in which I learned to use the subjunctive _last_ in **_that_** clauses expressing necessity or a parliamentary motion rather than _lasts_ as I first misspoke in _Hansard_. And since I am here before Parliament in which there is constant motion caused by hot air blowing in from the caucuses," he frothed and foamed, "I move **_that_** _those who are sleeping be awakened;_ **_that_** _every live member of Parliament second my second motion:_ **_that_** _everyone learn to use the subjunctive_ as I have done _._ And since I have, I wish to set straight a petty matter in the House of Lords, namely, the esteemed member from Char-on-Cross (I move _**that** he be so_ _burned at the stake_ ) of whom it has been well said that before he gets up to let off steam, doesn't know what he is going to blow; when he is blowing, doesn't know what he is being a blowhard about; and when he has sat down, doesn't know to what extent he has blown it. Though he would argue **_that_** _he need not be reminded_, __ I move **_that_** _his poor memory be jogged_ since it is crucial **_that_** _it recall his having said_, __ 'In three weeks he will have his neck wrung like a chicken.' Some chicken! Some neck! And now that I'm as giddy as a schoolboy who has learned to use the subjunctive in **_that_** clauses expressing necessity or a parliamentary motion, and have renounced my former 'English' that always put me in one ill mood or another, I move—hell, my juiced-up pride bloody well demands— ** _that_** _that be the sort of English up with which I will not put, come what may, expressed blood, toil, tears and sweat be damned_."

**Use the imperative mood to express a command**

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** **

****

**_Elsie the Borden Cow_** _reflects dreamily on the daisy necklace Elmer made for her._

"For the contented life of me, I can't see how any cow, the embodiment of sweetness and contentment, could be named 'Bossie.' It's too ironic. Maybe it's a special breed behind the Iron Curtain. I got wind once (common in us cows who eat a lot of grass) of a herd of _cowmissars_ there that boss their own kine around with 'Give it up for the State!'; 'Chew your cud— _now!_ '; and 'Shut up about your damned God!' The thought of making oneself understood by making _you_ understood is too many for me, and makes my head spin. . . ." 
**  
**

100. Command? She Was in No Mood to Be Bossy

Sweet Elsie Borden Cow was in the mood

For her full Jersey udder to exude

Her famed condensed milk, sweet and rich and good,

That she exuded like no udder could.

And so she sweetly mooed for Farmer Borden:

"Make of your each hand a gentle cordon

Round each one, and coax sweet milk and cream

From every quarter—while I let off steam,

Relaxing in mood as each cow frustration

Leaves me via lactic condensation."

What got Elsie uptight was her calf,

Young Elmo, who was too much calf by half

To keep stock-still, for all she sweetly mooed

(She couldn't take _commanding_ attitude;

She couldn't _order_ , she was at a loss, see,

Elmo—she was too sweet to be bossy).

In an udder mood, she but expressed

Sweet milk—poor Elsie'd never learned, when stressed,

To use her _other_ —could not **Use the** [ **"Stand!"** ]

**Imperative(mooed) to express command**.

Elsie stood over the water trough dreamily admiring the daisy-chain necklace Elmer the Bull had made for her. Though she thought and thought about it, for the contented life of her she just couldn't see how any cow could be named "Bossie." "It's just too ironic that the embodiment of sweetness and contentment could be so heavy-hooved as to make a strong request of another, much less order it about (Do this! _Don't_ do that!)—especially one of her own kind, or kine; I'm not sure which is correct. Maybe there's a breed of cow I haven't heard about (I could never _herd_ about anyone) that expresses milk high in irony. Yes, surely that's it; a special breed that exists (it can't be called living) behind the Iron Curtain where the prevailing mooed is there's no such thing as a strong request, let alone a polite one; just stern commands and bossy orders (Obey!). I got wind once (common in us cows who eat a lot of grass) of a herd of _cowmissars_ there that go around giving such moody imperatives; a breed that, instead of _giving_ milk, ironically milks the _people_ , like Farmer Borden, dry. But I had thought such talk fancy. Maybe these cowmissars can get themselves in the mood to boss their calves, their own flesh and milk, around with 'Give it up for the State!'; 'Chew your cud— _now!_ '; and 'Shut up about your damned God!' in order to make themselves understood on behalf of the Mother Country, but I can't even contemplate such a State of existence. The very thought of making oneself understood by making _you_ understood is just too many for me, and makes my head spin round. I'm glad I wasn't born a cowmissar. The closest I could even think of coming to such a State is to cowmisserate with members of the breed, even as Elmo's kicking up his heels and doing all the mooncalfy things one does in the process of becoming a contented Borden cow."

**Use the imperative mood to express a strong/polite request**

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** **

****

**_Paul Revere_** _exchanges strong, polite requests upon his Midnight Ride._

"Be so kind, my good William Dawes, as to tell me what took you so long." "Do be so good as to understand, sir, that _I_ was enjoined to take the _longer_ route in case you should be captured." "Please, my good man, proffer me none of your half-hour-late excuses. But leave us, if you will, make haste unto Concord to warn them there." "Go to _h_ , if it please you, sir." "Please understand, __ my old slower-riding friend, why Longfellow made it _Paul Revere's_ Mid _—_ " "Do be so kind as to _shut your fictionalized famous fat face the hell up!_ "
**  
**

101. His Strong, Polite Requests Begot the Same

The Boston night was dark when Paul Revere

Was given his imperative: " _Fly!_ Steer

Your horse for Lexington and warn the pair,

John Hancock and Sam Adams, waiting there,

'The regulars are coming out!' They'll know

You mean the bloody British. Hurry! _Go!_ "

In an imperative mood, too, preflight,

Revere made to church sexton a polite

Yet strong request: "Sir, kindly show, from steeple,

Lantern light to warn the Charlestown people

"Of the Redcoats' route; pray, favor me:

Shine _one_ light if by land, _two_ if by sea."

Politely bidding steed to make good stride,

Revere set off upon his midnight ride

Across the ink-black Massachusetts land,

The nascent nation's fate in lanterned hand,

Or hands, of him whose mood, up steeple stair,

Was _good_ ; __ impaired, he knew (he held a pair):

**Use the impairative** [by sea they pressed]

**Mood to express a strong Paul light request**.

April 18, 1775. Arriving in Lexington at midnight, Revere nervously, agitatedly awaits William Dawes who has been sent, by a longer route, on the same imperative midnight ride. "Be so kind, good sir," Revere politely requests when the latter arrives a half hour later, "as to tell me what took you so long." "Do be so good as to understand, that _I_ was enjoined to take the _longer_ route in case you should be captured." "Please, my good man, proffer me none of your half-hour-late, April _19th_ excuses. But leave us, if you will, make haste unto Concord to warn them there." "Go to _h_ , if it please you." [History records their capture by the British at Lincoln. Dawes escapes. Revere is taken back toward Lexington at gunpoint. Years later the two meet again up yonder, their heavenly reward for having made such strong, polite requests all their lives.] "Be so kind as to tell me, my legendary Revere," Dawes politely requests right off the bat, "why it's become, in people's minds, 'Paul Revere's Ride' and not 'William Dawes' Far _Longer_ Ride.' " "Please understand, my old slower-riding patriot and friend, that that was Longfellow's doing. Kindly get it in your thick head that he took poetic license with the facts." " _Tell_ me about it, if it please you. Painfully rub it in, if you would be so kind, how romantically, _fictitiously_ he had you waiting across the river in Charlestown for the sexton to show _you_ a light ('one if by land, two if by sea'), when in fact you told him to show _Charlestown patriots_ the light(s) if you be captured." "Be so generous, my envious Dawes, as to graciously accept his so justly making me a beloved national hero ( _I_ got to Lexington first), and rightly consigning you to eternal, _ignominious_ historical obscurity." "Do be so kind as to _shut your fictionalized famous fat face the hell UP!_ " Dawes requested politely, imperatively, not a little strongly.

**17. Punctuation**

My attitude toward punctuation is that it ought to be as conventional as possible. The game of golf would lose a good deal if croquet mallets and billiard cues were allowed on the putting green. You ought to be able to show that you can do it a good deal better than anyone else with the regular tools before you have a license to bring in your own improvements.

—Ernest Hemingway

**My Whole Point Is—You've Got to Watch the Road!**

"From Latin _punctum_ (point); that's what I do:

In writing, print I point the way for you

When traveling the Reading Road's black lines

—Look! See? I function much like traffic signs:

Slow down, pause, hesitate, rush— _hurry_ —STOP!

Phew! man, did you not see that sentence cop?

But I do more than they— _turn here_ (life's page);

I give you all you need to vent road rage:

Quotation marks to get you, single, double,

In BIG—quick, choose—wed? or unwed? trouble

"With that guy you just cut you off with one

Mad dash; a question mark to question (done!)

Your rude one-fingered exclamation mark,

It's 'wisdom'—man, he's putting it in _park_ ;

Plus twin apostrophes for joint possession:

Man's road rage and one's 'own'-mad aggression.

Man, _look out_ , he's pointing, God, a _gun_

To put an _end_ stop, period to— _run!_

_Ouch!_ **bullets!** Well, man, there's your punctuation.

What's your choice—quick!—burial? cremation?"

The point( **,** )class( **,** ) is this( **:** ) I would be less than punctilious if I did not point out to you that marks of punctuation are really marks of consideration( **;** ) that( **,** ) correctly used( **,** ) they mark you as one who responsibly practices courtesy of the road( **.** ) Think( **:** ) What would life on the road be like if no one were considerate enough to put out any punctuation signs for us to see( **?** ) Wellitwouldbeonegiganticworldwidetailgatingpartythemotherofallpileupswouldntit Why( **,** ) my kiddy( **-** )kar Roads scholars( **,** ) you wouldn( **'** )t know where to head in at( **,** ) where to get off at( **,** ) which way to turn( **,** ) whether there are any rest stops along the way **(** there _aren( **'** )t_ **)** ( **,** ) whether you are coming or going( **—** )or even how to ask for directions **** ( **. . .** ) **** if you **'** re female( **.** ) You wouldn( **'** )t know if you( **'** )re going straight to hell in a handbasket or( **,** ) just because your handbasket happens to be over a certain length( **,** ) weight( **,** ) height( **,** ) or has more than three axles( **,** ) whether you **'** re going to have to take the long( **-** )way( **-** )round route **(** fine and dandy with you **)** ( **,** ) or whether you( **'** )re getting there in the fast or slow lane( **.** ) Why( **,** ) even if moving at a crawl you still couldn( **'** )t be certain you( **'** )re in the carpool lane( **.** ) And if not( **,** ) how would you explain that ( **"** )fast( **"** ) **** food in your _laps_ ( **?** ) ( **"** )I( **'** )m a licensed multitasker( **"?** ) You( **'** )d be dead( **!** )

Yes, I know what you're thinking: "If only _I_ might be so punctilious!" But, darlings—oh, it is most fortunate! Some few trailblazing souls have come this way before us, hewing the trees, taming the wilderness, and with but the most roadimentary of hand tools (pen, pencil, computer, _spray paint_ ), courteously, smoothly paved the way for us by leaving signs, not only at every turn, but all along the way. Do let us read them that we may know where precisely along Reader's Road we are, and what fascinating points of interest await us on ahead. What? Yes, good eye, Punctilla. Thank you for pointing it out to us. Class, _there_ , up ahead—our first sign of Punctuation. Let us all resolve, once more, to practice courtesy of the road, and, on coming to this blessed sign, thank it for pointing us in the right direction. Oh, and let us not forget, also, as we pass them by, to thank the hard-working road crew who keep the road in such good repair for us by leaning on their exclamation marks. But look—off to our write! It's a penstriped chain gang of all those convicted of writing _without punctuating_ , and consequently sentenced to the community service of punctuating the roadside with their presence as a sobering example of what _you_ can expect for the same felony crime. What? Yes, that's right, Sammycolon, they look like they're chained together with ellipses. To which I might add, _From your ellipses to God's ears!_ I know, darlings, you shudder to think of such an ignominious fate, and vow not to follow in their missteps. So the very least you can do is thank them for scaring you straight. But here, now, our sign!

SLOW DOWN, SLOW DOWN! AND READ ME AS YOU PASS,

O YOU, THE PASSING(?) PUNCTUATING CLASS.

WHILE TRAVELING THIS ROAD BE CERTAIN TO

WELL USE THE MARKS (AS YOU'RE ENJOINED TO DO)

TO END; TO SEPARATE; TO LINK; AND, YES,

TO PAUSE; TO EMPHASIZE; AND TO DIGRESS;

TO QUOTE; TO LEAVE THINGS OUT; TO CHANGE THE TONE;

TO HESITATE; MORE, TO CONTRACT; TO OWN.

YOU'LL HAVE THE BEST TRIP IF YOU TAKE TO HEART

THE SIGNS AS SCIENCE HALF, AND HALF AS ART.

18. Commas

_I was working on the proof of one of my poems all the morning, and took out a comma. In the afternoon I put it back again._

—Oscar Wilde

_The older I grow, the less important the comma becomes. Let the reader catch his own breath._

—Elizabeth Clarkson Zwart

**It's Formal (Heads and Tails). Commas You Are**

"Most widely used am I, most _troublesome_ ,

Perhaps since I've a commapendium

Of purposes: I __ introduce, enclose,

I separate, I show omission—those

Aren't all I do by any means because

What I do most is I get you to pause,

_Slow down_ in life, and take a little time

To smell the proses on the way—hmmph! I'm

'A tadpole of a thing, all head and tail.

Look how that last— _below_ the line—does trail!'

"You sneer. It's (sniff) no wonder when I hear

This that I look like an inverted tear.

But I will have you know, for all my trauma,

I'm no less, yes, than an **Oxford** comma

. . . Sometimes. Anyway, when I am not,

And well you'll know this when your writing's shot

Through with me, I'm a _killer_ —yes, _you'll see!_

And of the **serial** variety,

No less, and you'll be sorry that you said

Such things about my killer tail and head

"—I'm _Greek,_ you know ( _komma_ ), closely related to _koptein,_ 'to cut.' A regular Mack the Knife am I, cutting words, phrases, clauses, appositives and such off from the rest of the sentence. And I can just as easily cut off your _lif—_ "

_Oh-h,_ my little cut-ups, what a brou conspicuously minus the haha! Come to the end of his verse, Commas kept right on commenting—and the other parts of speech were loudly crying, _"Foul!"_ Hoping to keep both peace and pause in the family, I knew I was going to have to cut Commas off—quickly. "Shut up!" I explained. This ringing bit of diplomacy allowed me to negotiate a temporary pause-fire by explaining that Commas hadn't fudged his strictly circumscribed verse length at all; he'd merely tacked on a few lines of prose.

Phew! Having established the obligatory fragile pause, I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Then, rolling it over in my mind, I took to reflecting on how it's always a _fragile_ pause that takes advantage of the lull in the hostilities to step between the two warring factions and keep them apart momentarily. And a good thing, too; otherwise we might think the whole thing just one endless bloody conflict. "No," I went on ruminating, "it's never an 'indestructible pause' or even a 'sturdy, robust pause.' Pauses suffer a delicate health and are likely to break out in one fever or another at any moment, which they invariably do. So it's always a 'fragile pause,' the two words going together like two peace nuts in a shell—wait! That's it!" Without so much as a brief pause, I disabled the governor on the Omnibus (you might say he was surprised) and bustled on down to Pains, Georgia.

Arriving in one piece, seeking one peace, I didn't pause in looking up its most celebrated pain, one-time president Commie Carter. I knew he'd be down on his peace-nut farm, working on yet another sanguine road to peace (the others shot so full of holes as to be as implausible as impassable), desperately lusting after a legacy to stand on to make up for the lame one shot out from under him when he failed to broker the release of the Iranian hostages. "Mr. President," I sighed, " 'sanguine' means both 'cheerfully optimistic' and 'bloody' all at once, doesn't it?" "Yes, it pausetively does." "I thought so. Thus I wonder if I might bullyrag you into pretensions of being an equally ineffectual pause negotiator. I mean, your being a peace-nut farmer and all, well, who better than you, do-goober-turned do-gooder, to take a crack at establishing world pause? Who but you, after all, could be such a meddlesome pain—and not just in the side but in _both_ sides?" "You're much too kind," he said, blushing at the compliment. "I know," I replied. Well, without a pause, he dove hard left into his trademark shut-all diplomacy: "Y'all shut up now. I have lusted in my heart, so negotiating a lusting pause in the Middle East, to replace the eternally fragile one, should be a piece of cheesecake—but y'all shut up now; not a word to Pausealynn!"

In the style to which he'd long grown a-cussed-on, Commie cozied up to, made nice-nice with the terrorist leader on the one side, snidely laid the blame at the unkissed feet of the democratically elected "aggressor" on the other, then played his whole card: his standard policy of bilateral appausement: "Yes-Sir Ara _fat_ ," he schmoozed, laying both paws on either side of Yes-Sir's fat belly, "as you can see, no matter which two-faced position you take, I'm on your side. Besides, you've got the pot, Menachem here's brought home the Begin (the freshly slaughtered Palestinians), and, _Yes-Sir_ , I've got the fire in the belly to be a Noble Prize–winning pause negotiator. We've got all the makin's for . . ."

Well, the latest road to pause blasted to pieces, I had to step in, relieve him of command, and tell him he needed to give up his foolish pretensions of being a pause negotiator too. _Oh!_ and didn't he lose it then. He spluttered and kicked a lot of goobers in the sack and, without so much as a pause, turned a furious Commie pinko.

I left him down on his peace-nut farm, though not anywhere near as down on it as I was, and pursued a different road to pause, which soon fetched me up at

**The Novel Rules of Commas**

**Noah and Wallace Beery**

Separate three or more things in a series with commas

**Clause von Beaut-Low**

Write a comma in front of _and_ or _but_ introducing an independent clause

**Ma and Pa Kettle**

Use a comma to introduce a short quotation

**Pope Pie-us-in-the-Skyus**

Use a comma or commas to separate thousands, millions, etc., in writing figures

**the Barker Gang**

Use a comma to separate contrasted elements in a sentence

**Nessie, the Loch Ness Monster**

Use a comma to avoid wordiness

**Lee Apperson**

Use commas to enwrap titles following a person's name

**Yo-Yo Ma, Klaus Schulze**

Use a comma to introduce a word, phrase, or, on occasion, a clause

**Prime Minister Tojo, Komma Kazi**

Use no unnecessary commas

**Kama Sutra, Heer, Ranjha**

Use a comma to introduce a statement or question that's preceded by a mental question or musing aloud

**Ma and Pa Clawse**

Restrictive relative clauses are not set off by commas

**Santa and Samantha Claus**

Nonrestrictive clauses are set off by commas

**Zantac and Mrs. Clause**

Never join independent clauses with a comma

**the Virgin Mary, Joseph**

If a parenthetic expression is preceded by a conjunction, place the first comma before the conjunction, not after it

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Phrases**

**Andy Warhol**

An absolute phrase must be set off with a comma or a pair of commas

**Semicolons**

**Red Riding Hood, the Big Bad Wolf**

Use a semicolon in place of a comma when a longer pause is desired

**Sentences**

**Sacco and Vanzetti**

Avoid correcting a fused sentence by placing a comma between its parts
**  
**

**Separate three or more things in a series with commas**

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** **

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_Brother actors_ ** _Wallace and Noah Beery_** _can't help dropping serial comments on beer-guzzling World Series baseball fans._

"God knows you and I can act badly in a play _without_ any beer, Wallace—but not so badly as beeries who, when they have three or more in a Series, begin dropping the Serial comma so crucial to the outcome of the World Series." "You said a mouthful, Noah. One game, the beery lout I was sittin' beside said to his beery buddy, 'Saturday I went for a walk with Marge, a friend and a dog.' His buddy, as close to him as you and I, reads into the drunken lout's utterance and says, 'Bud, I'm sorry you think Marge is a dog. . . ." 
**  
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102. Three Things or More in Series Need a Comma

"Yes, spoiled, it's _always_ spoiled, the World Series,"

Noah Beery sighed, "by small-b _beeries_ —"

"They pour in," groused Wallace Beery, "sober,

Just to spoil the Series come October—"

"No. 1 draft pick goes in the muzzle

Of these louts engaged in small-g guzzle—"

"Conduct scarce less saintly than a Savior,

Sober, beer turns into lout's behavior—"

"Balls and beeries equally sky high,

The tempers, cups, and fists all start to fly—"

"We Beerys, sober, who do not imbibe

The small-b stuff, must suffer this coarse tribe—"

"Must calmly sit amongst these boors and _hear_ ,

Sigh 'Ah!' to watch them more and more, each beer—"

"Morph into loutish, guzzling fanatics

Mouthing crass beer-letter-word grammatics!—"

"Squat our _'But!'_ s between these _things._ Our functions?

But to suffer, and, like two conjunctions—"

" **Place a calm 'Ah!'** (sigh) **between**, we Beerys,

**Each of three or morph things in a Series**."

Bottom of the second stanza: Noah, seeing that the ball he and Wallace are having at the beeries' expense is in play, in the strike zone, and in prose, takes a hard swing at it: "God knows you and I can act badly in a play _without_ any beer, Wallace—but not so badly as beeries who, when they have three or more in a Series, begin dropping the all-important Serial comma so crucial to the outcome of the World Series." "You said a wet, foaming mouthful, Noah. And back there at the bottom of the first stanza when you groused, 'The tempers, cups, and fists all start to fly—' I couldn't help noticing, listening to you, that you were careful not to drop the Serial comma that came after 'cups.' Yes, some would quibble and say, 'Well now how could you know old Noah didn't drop his Serial comma, Wallace, when you were only _listening_ to your older brother?' They don't know, Noah, that we're so close, you and I, that we can read each other's minds." "You ain't whistlin' Dixie, Wallace. It was but the top of the froth, game one, when the beery lout I was sittin' beside said to his beery buddy, 'Last Saturday I went for a walk with Marge, a friend and a dog.' And the buddy, who's as close to him as you and I, reads into the drunken lout's utterance and says, 'Bud, I'm sorry you think Marge is a dog.' Well, right away the lout realizes he's dropped his Serial comma, and he up and says, 'What I meant to say was I went for a walk with Marge, a friend (and a dog).' 'Oh,' the buddy says, 'I'm real glad to hear Marge is the pair-'n'-petical kind you only have to throw a bone to now and then on the _aside_. It's the only breed to have.' And the drunken lout says, 'Doggone it! Now I've dropped my Serial _calm mutt_ in a Series.' 'All fo' pause,' says the buddy, 'all faux paws.' And the lout says, 'Man, I gotta lay off the beer before I turn into a lush, a kennel or a Serial killer.' "

**Write a comma in front of _and_ or _but_ introducing an independent clause**

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** **

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_Independent_ ** _Clause von Beaut-Low_** _describes for matchmaker Andor Bhutt precisely the type of low beauty (an unwed mother) he desires to be conjoined with._

Andor Bhutt thinks, "I must say to the father **,** **and** I must be firm, 'Independent Clause desires to be conjoined to a calm ma **, but** _she must not be so calm as to be calmmatose_.' My correctly placing a comma before **and** or **but** introducing an independent clause will be a tactful way of letting him know that I expect _him_ to place a calm ma before Andor Bhutt introducing an independent Clause as well. By stating that she must be an _unwed_ mother, he will extrapolate that she can be single **, or** _she can be unmarried_. . . ."
**  
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103. An Independent Clause, He Sought a Match

Dane Clause von Beaut-Low, virile, handsome, healthy,

Single, independent, _very_ wealthy,

Wished to, with a fruitful beauty, pair

That she might bear for him a Beaut: an heir.

He summoned to him _the_ most famed matchmaker

In the land, a mover and a shaker,

Andor Bhutt by name, and said, "My taste

Is not for an as-yet-unproved-one, chaste,

But for some singularly unwed other

Proof-is-in-the-kidding, _borne-fruit_ mother."

So charged, Andor got his blackest book out

( _Unwed Mothers_ ) and went on the lookout,

Clause going on to further state, "My pleasance

Is for one who, in my noble presence,

Won't get all excited, in a pother.

Say, 'Clause [to each unwed mother's father]

Wants no _nervous_ , _uptight_ daughter-momma

—So make sure you stand up, **Right, a _calm_ ma**

**Front of Andor Bhutt** (to show good cause)

**That's introducing independent Clause**.' "

Andor Bhutt had been in the business of matching people up long enough to know that, in order to kindle a fire between the two, he first had to engage in a little _match_ making. So when independent Clause came to him seeking to wed an already proven unwed mother, Andor knew just what he had to do: "I must go to the father of a likely unmarried mother. Standing before him, I must whittle myself a little stick of wood **, and** _I must affix to it a bit of incendiary material_. Then, having warmed to my task by mating one independent clause to another with a comma, I must say to him, 'Independent Clause desires to be conjoined to a calm ma **, but** _she must not be so calm as to be in effect calmmatose_.' My correctly placing a comma before **and** or **but** introducing an independent clause will be a tactful way of letting him know, in no uncertain terms, that I expect _him_ to place a calm ma before Andor Bhutt introducing an independent Clause as well. And by my stating that she must be an _unwed_ mother, he will extrapolate that she can be single **, or** _she can be unmarried_. He'll readily fathom that she must not have a husband **, neither** _must she have a spouse_. He will further infer that she cannot be a virgin **, nor** _can she be infertile._ I will then strongly advise this father not to try fobbing off a barren daughter **, for** _Clause would be quite beside himself_ (no stepchild at his side). Finally, she must be young **, so** _there will be plenty of time for more children_. ** __** He will then see that Clause is in earnest **, yet** _he is no one's fool_. This father will then understand to place a calm ma before Andor Bhutt **, and** _I'll then introduce her to independent Clause._ He'll find her the most warmly incendiary material **, so** _he'll eagerly strike the match_. It will catch fire **,** **but** _I 'll be the one lighting for home, for Clause's whispered aside to me_, _' Three on a match is bad luck.' _"

**Use a comma to introduce a short quotation**

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** **

****

**_Ma and Pa Kettle_** _coming up short, as usual._

Ma shouted, _"Where's Seth?"_ cried out, _"Elvira's missing!"_ frantically bawled out, _"Young Cletus is gone!"_ then screamed, _"Reba-Mae! Somethin's happened to Reba-Mae!"_ Hearing Ma in such a state, Pa didn't have to be reminded, once again, to use a _calm_ Ma to set off a short quotation. And he placidly drawled out, __ "How-w-w-w-w-dy, Ma," hoping, once more, his use of a calm Pa to set off a short quotation would put her in mind that a man's wife is obliged to use a calm Ma to set off one or more of her own.
**  
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104. Set Off a Short Quotation with a Comma

The Kettles, Ma and Pa, both thought no harm

Could come of havin' young'uns on the farm,

So they commenced to havin' them a brood

Amountin' to a young'uns multitude.

It got so's with the years and Kettles mountin',

Ma and Pa was havin' trouble countin'

(Neither one was good at 'rithmatic)

Their kids, so Ma commenced to learn the trick

All down-home Mas with more'n ten kids use:

Ma took to goin' 'round without her shoes.

Pa never learned the trick; like every Pa,

He knew that he could always count on Ma

To do the head count while his own would doze,

Without the headache comes of countin' toes.

But Pa would be woke up to the report

Whenever Ma came up a Kettle short,

And got herself in one excited flap,

A _"Pa—we's **short**!"_ quote comin' out her yap.

Pa learned to **Use a** [for Ma's fraught oration]

**_Calm_ Ma to set off a _". . . short!"_ quotation**.

Pity Pa: Ma'd frantically shout, _"Where's Seth?"_ or cry out, _"Elvira's missing!"_ or bawl, _"Young Cletus is gone!"_ or scream, _"Reba-Mae! Somethin's happened to Reba-Mae!"_ And he, no less commatose, would be ear-rationally roused from sawing logs (the only work he ever did). Hearing Ma in such a frantic state, he didn't have to be reminded, once again, to use a _calm_ Ma to set off a short quotation. But seeing as how Ma was having a hard time of it, he'd set about drawling placidly, "How-w-w-w-w-dy, Ma"; then just as unruffledly, "Seth's drawin' water, Ma"; and add quite as serenely, "Elvira's out mendin' fences 'tween britches"; append just as tranquilly, "Cletus is sloppin' the hogs"; and then, as if by way of a postscriptural afterthought, tack on no less stoically, "and Reba-Mae's out cuttin' country songs, Ma." Each time it was his hope that his use of a calm Pa to set off a short quotation would put her in mind that a man's wife is obliged to use a calm Ma to set off one or more of her own. And he'd be much obliged to her, he wanted to say, if she'd be half that agreeable in life. But it never did him one whit of good. The next time she came up short he'd be jolted out of a deep comma before he'd sawed enough logs to get them through a blistering hot summer's day, and he'd have to apply the prescriptive mnemonic (a calm press to the mouth), hoping this time for a complete cure. So far he'd only been able to cure her of using a comma to set off quoted material that is the subject of a verb ("A woman's work is never done" is the story of my life); and the object of a verb (Who says "A man's as good as his word"?); as well as words placed in quotation marks for emphasis ("A bandage" ain't the same thing as "a cure"). "It _ain't_?" Ma'd say uncommaly. " _No_ , Ma," Pa'd say oh so commandingly (in his wildest dreams), "it _ain't._ "

**Use a comma or commas to separate thousands, millions, etc., in writing figures**

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** **

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**_Pope Pie-Us-in-the-Skyus_** _uses calm mass to part, divide some 2,200,000,000 sky-pie-eating figures from some 4,800,000,000 non-sky-pie-eating figures (the damned)._

"God, the last time I held mass, a massive number of souls—354,821—were piously nodding their heads in St. Peter's Square, while another 1,123,702,374 were as piously nodding their heads at home. But these figures, O Heavenly Father, as well as the street value of the Vatican's treasures, $498,713,724,546,224,569,872.01, are from the highly respected Vatican Pole. Sorrowfully, this Pole lately went to his heavenly reward, as you know, so these figures, nor the commas used to separate them, cannot be confirmed. . . ."
**  
**

105. He Used His Commas Well in Parting Figures

"Pope Pie-us-in-the-Skyus, I, too, feed

The multitude, like Jesus, yes, in deed,

For what the masses want is not to die

Damned, which I guarantee through my stock high

Pie-in-the-sky well served up in a mass

Of Christian dogma: 'Pious, you will pass

Straight into Heaven. Eat, and bypass "Go!"

Without collecting _their_ two hundred "dough":

The dolors _they'll_ receive, those ones that hurt

—Like _Hell_ —who don't eat Sky-pie for dessert.' "

"Last night 2,000,000,000 gathered. God, I held

A giant mass for those who'd not be _Helled_

Accountable for all their sins, by right,

But held apart, divided thus by rite,

En masse, from the non-sky-pie-eating masses,

_Dummies_ that compose these God-damned classes;

Yet no _high_ -strung mass, for all I've burned

To promise them pie-in-the-sky; I've learned:

**Use _calm_ mass to divide, part thousands, millions**,

**And their kind, in riting figures** [billions].

"God, the last time I held mass, a massive number of souls—354,821 to be exact—were piously nodding their heads in St. Peter's Square, while another 1,123,702,374 were as piously nodding their heads at home—and all clamoring, 'Your Holiness, you who call the Holy See home—pray see to it that at the end of the day it shall be, Pope Pi, _us_ in the sky— _us_ —and not _them_!' The word _them_ , __ of course, is where the nodding of the heads came in; some in the direction of the Middle if not Far East, others towards the Infidel West, some to the Great Spirit in the Sky North, still others to the Witch Doctor South, and every 'point' of the compass ( _all_ point a 'finger' one way or another) in between. All this nodding put out precisely 482,931,730,183,128 _Btu_ s _(Bugger them—us!)_. But these figures, including, O Heavenly Father, that the street value of the Vatican's treasures is $498,713,724,546,224,569,872.01, are those reported by the latest and highly respected Vatican Pole. Sorrowfully, this Pole lately went to his heavenly reward, so these figures, nor the commas used to separate them, cannot be confirmed. (As you know, Father, the Gallop Poll is only used to poll the exact number of souls Galloping towards Hell, and the precise rate of speed at which they are Galloping there.) What I can confirm is that I officially, opulently reside within my earthly mansion at 1002bad4U Pope Pie-us Way, my zip-to-heaven code is 02841, my unlisted phone number is (011) 892-293-5786, the serial number of my spanking new 2018 Popemobile is 17362048374, my holy white skin is 1/1000000 of a micrometer (.000000000000013 inches) thin—and that there's not so much as a comma in the entire lot; nor, O Father, is there a single calm awe. _Billions_ are in impassioned awe of me, and to be perfectly honest— _I am awfully **excited** to be Pope!_"

**Use a comma to separate contrasted elements in a sentence**

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** **

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_The_ ** _Barker Gang_** _, clockwise from bottom left: Herman, Arthur, Ma, Freddie, Lloyd. When FBI agents surrounded Ma and Freddie in their rented Florida hideout, it was a crystal- clear day( **,** ) **** yet mother and son both died in a hail of gunfire. All five lived by the gun( **,** ) but in sharp contrast each died by it. ****_

__

_"You boys got caught because you were careless **(,)** not because I didn't teach you how to rob a bank!"_ Ma frantically yelled after Herman, Arthur, Freddie, and Lloyd as they were led from the courtroom. They were her "boys," all right **(,)** but the judge sentenced them like men. "They didn't study the elements of a sentence in school **(,)** but **** they are a study in contrasted elements in a sentence," Ma screamed. The judge understood a mother's love( **,)** but he rebuked her to use a _calm_ ma to separate contrasted elements in a sentence.

****
**  
**

106. Ma Parts from Her Contrasted Elements

Ma Barker masterminded her four sons

To be the Barker Gang; well schooled in guns

When they were barely snotnosed, by their prime

Each thug was one hard element of crime.

She groomed them, Herman, Arthur, Freddie, Lloyd,

So she, so criminally Barker-boyed,

"Ma Barker," brains behind the Barker gang"

(If she could keep them from the verb to hang,

The hardest sentence of them all), in _time_

Would _go down_ in the annals of gang crime.

Her "boys" soon robbed a bank, got nabbed, and they

Were four contrasted studies judgment day:

Young Lloyd got five years; Freddie got five more;

Art fifteen; eldest Herman got a _score_.

The sentence made Ma lose it; she made noise

To have to part for _so long_ from her boys

In time. She flipped out on the judge. High drama:

He: "I'll teach you, Ma, to, **Use a _calm_ Ma**

**To part elements contrasted in**

**A sentence**." [Ma got _fifty years_ , no kin.]

_"You boys got caught because you were careless **(,)** not because I didn't teach you how to rob a bank!"_ Ma yelled after them as they were led from the courtroom. She was furious at Herman, Arthur, Freddie, and Lloyd. They were her "boys," all right **(,)** but the judge sentenced them like men. Ma screamed, "They were as one in not studying the elements of a sentence in school, true **(,)** but **** they are a study in contrasted elements in a sentence:

Herman is the oldest **(,)** but he isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed; so I know I can always count on him doing something stupid **(,)** never something smart. If I said once I said a thousand times, 'I swear, the older you get **(,)** the less brains you seem to have.'

Second-born Lloyd has natural musical aptitude **(,)** yet he'll be damned if he's going to play second fiddle to Herman. At first glance he appears to be clean-cut **(,)** but a person holding a gun to the back of his head can see **** he doesn't ever wash behind his ears.

Arthur has a pleasant smile **(,)** whereas his disposition is anything but. Those whom he robs, kidnaps, or pistol-whips swear that the more you get to know him **(,)** the less you find to like. He is a lady killer **(,)** yet his wife will one day end up killing him.

Freddie is my youngest **(,)** but he's not the most immature: Despite he's baby-faced **(,)** he is an old hand at killing. And even though J. Edgar Hoover hasn't yet made him Public Enemy No. 1 **(,)** my Freddie will always be No. 1 on my most wanted list."

The judge understood a mother's love **(,)** but Ma had gone off the deep end. "Look," he said, "while I _am_ a judge **(,)** I am not judgmental. It's not for me to determine whether you are criminally insane **(,)** it's up to a shrink. You may be Ma Barker **(,)** yet you were born Arizona Donnie Clarke. Yes, that's apropos of nothing **(,)** but who gives a contrasted fig?"
_  
_

**Use a comma to avoid wordiness**

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** **

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_The world's top Nessieologist, a mite frugal, can hardly believe his good fortune: he is just about to snap an incredibly rare sighting of_ ** _Nessie the Loch Ness Monster_** _, when who should walk into the frame but Bigfoot, saving a whole separate rare photo._

Nessie: "We Scots hae an _auld_ reputation for bein' tightfisted, so you canna blame me for savin' a wird here **,** [and savin'] a wird there, so savin', by the use of a comma, two hail wirds. Once, when the doubters began to outnumber the believers, I thought to speak out, if juist to say, 'I exist **,** [and so] therefore I am!' thriftily savin' anither two wirds. But I had an age-auld reputation for taciturNess to uphold. 'What [am I] to do?' I pondered, muckle pleased with mysel' for havin' saved anither two wirds, _plus_ a hail comma . . ."
**  
**

107. Her Calm Maw Sought Avoiding Wordiness

It's one thing to hae seen the Loch Ness Monster

(Rare sight) when she's made her mythic pond stir

—Och, but it's another to hae _heard_

Elusive "Nessie" deign a single word

In passing to an awe-struck Nessie-sighter

(She's not known to be a heard reciter

All these 1,500 some-odd years

Since she's been seen). Nae, nae one iver hears

Her speak, and so "she _canna_ be," say a'

The experts, "some poor creature's mither-'n-law."

"Hoot mon [so speak these Nessieologists],

She dinna say a word the Highland mists

Might carry to a Nessie-hearer's ear

For fear sich hearin' would bring ithers near

Aboot her luvely legendary Loch,

Ay, juist to hear her talk her Nessie-talk.

Sin auld lang syne she's kept her tuithy maw

Still—unlike _some_ monstrosities-in-law.

Ay, Nessie's learned to **Use** (to be heard less)

**A calm maw to steer clear of wordy Ness**."

Nessie is muckle pleased to be so taciturn. "We Scots hae an _auld_ reputation for bein' a wee bit tightfisted," she thinks but dinna speaks, "so you canna blame me for savin' a wird here **,** [and savin'] a wird there, so savin', by the use of a comma, two hail wirds. Once, when the doubters began to outnumber the believers, I thought to speak out, if juist to say, 'I exist **,** [and so] therefore I am!' thriftily savin' anither two wirds. But I had an age-auld reputation for taciturNess to uphold. 'What [am I] to do?' I pondered, muckle pleased with mysel' for havin' saved anither two wirds, _plus_ a hail comma—not a cheap eetem on or in Loch Ness. 'Ay, that'[i]s it!' I thought, hert-gled I was able to save a hail _i_ , e'en if it was a lower-case one, by the contraction of _that is_ , __ though I did hae to cheat a wee bit by usin' an apostrophe, __ a tad steeper in the Scots highlands than in the lowland commas, to do it. 'I'll disguise mysel' as a tern **,** [and] then speak **,** [and] say "My name is Tassie," savin' two hail _and_ s, so keepin' my bonnie reputation for being Tassietern. But bide a wee! Juist now two of the warld's top Nessieologists are lookin' to catch yet ane more glimpse o' me. The ane claims to hae sighted me 149 times **,** [and] the ither [claims to hae sighted me] 198 [times]! Shuirly they will na fail to claim a new warld record for savin'—and cite _me_ for speakin' out o' tern! The ane reputation I'll hae then will be for _lawless Ness!_ ' So I gied up the idea of speakin' out o' tern, juist thought: 'I'm seen **,** [but I'm] not heard'; 'In that loch there are nae sea monsters **,** [and] in this **,** [loch there is] ane'; 'Some hae seen me aften **,** [and] ithers **,** [hae seen me] no aft'—beside mysel' with joy to hae saved _all that_ , __ muckle wear and tear on my seelent tuithy maw, _and_ my auld bonnie reputation for taciturNess. Ay, auld penny-saved B[enjamin] Franklin has naethin' on Nessie."

**Use commas to enwrap titles following a person's name**

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** **

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**_Lee Apperson_** _, Mr. USA, Mr. America, wrapped and unwrapped._

"As Lee Apperson, _Mr. Auburn_ , _Mr. Spacecoast_ , _Mr. Manatee County_ , _Mr. Daytona_ , _Mr. Tampa_ , _Mr. Florida_ , _Mr. U.S.A._ , _Mr. America_ , it's obvious I'm a real comma pro: I enwrapped _all_ my many _Mr._ titles with commas after my name. As well, I enwrapped every city, state, and country that I ever _was_ (the sighin' of a has-been!) _Mr._ of. Plus, I reduced my _name_ down right along with my ripped and shredded frame, in order to get as lean as humanly possible—and stepped onto the posing dais as Apperson, L. . . ."
**  
**

108. He Rapped His Titles Off Behind His Name

Pro BIG-time bodybuilder, muscle-y

Lee Apperson won _"Awesome!"_ s each time he

Took home top bodybuilding _Mr. . . ._ title,

All the _"Ooh!"_ s and awes that were so vital

To his ego. But, a young man's game,

Lee watched as ever younger frame and _fame_

Eclipsed his own, as cruel time went on,

With ever younger title-winning brawn.

The _"Awesome!"_ s screamed his way, the wild applause,

Were ever more usurped by has-been _"Aw-w-w!"_ s.

Lee quit, but, so he'd be no fading ebb-sight,

Got himself a person- _all-Lee_ website:

atmypeakleeapperson.com,

Where _Mr._ frame and fame would never bomb,

His person there the only competition,

All pics showing Lee in peak condition,

Titles following ( _Ah!_ younger days),

The rap all round him _"Awesome!"_.com praise.

Lee's main rap? " **Use** **** .][ **com awes to en-**[frame]

**wrap titles following Apperson's name**.

"As Lee Apperson, _Mr. Auburn_ , _Mr. Spacecoast_ , _Mr. Manatee County_ , _Mr. Daytona_ , _Mr. Tampa_ , _Mr. Florida_ , _Mr. U.S.A._ , _Mr. America_ , it's obvious I'm a real .com-awe pro: I've not once failed to enwrap _all_ my many _Mr._ titles with commas after my name. As well, I enwrapped every city, state, and country that I ever _was_ (the sighin' of a has-been!) _Mr._ of. Plus, whenever I was dieting like _mad_ for a contest, I reduced my _name_ down right along with my ripped and shredded frame, in order to get as lean as humanly possible—adding striated muscle to my fame. Ever punctual (I perfectly timed my peak to coincide with showtime), I stepped onto the posing dais, not as Lee Apperson, but as _'Awesome!'_ 'lean machine' Apperson, L., and always stepped off with the coveted _Mr. Most Punctual at Enwrapping His Initial L. with Commas Following Apperson's Name_ title. Look, you pencil necks, _naturally_ (like every roid-blooded bodybuilder, I heatedly claim to be 100% natural), winning _Mr. U.S.A._ and _Mr. America_ were glorious achievements, and I get an awesome lump in my throat just thinking about _all_ the pumping of iron, muscles, and ego that went into those sweetly crowning _Mr._ 's. But as normally bulked-up Lee Apperson (I go off my diet BIG-time as soon as the contest is over), what are all those titles alongside _Mr. Most Punctual at Enwrapping His Initial L. with Commas Following Apperson's Name_? If Bert Parks himself had sung (in the key of _Awe!_ ) 'There Lee is, _Mr. Universe_ ,' it still wouldn't share the same mantel. No, even if Bert had crooned, 'There Lee is, _Mr. Olympia-a-a_ ,' or (had I graduated med school) 'Lee Apperson, M.D.,' enwrapping both initials _and_ title following Apperson's name, those petty titles could never compete with _Apperson, L.,_ _Mr. Most Punctual. . ._. Enwrap your heads around _that_ title, pencil necks."

**Use a comma to introduce a word, phrase, or, on occasion, a clause**

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** **

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**_Yo-Yo Ma_** _a moment before learning that he is to play second fiddle to syntho-pop star Klaus Schulze._

_"Right!"_ Ma fumed, slamming the Carnegie Hall door behind him on the way out. "Two words pretty much sum up my musical career **,** **cello—and _Goodbye!_ **Well at least I was able to introduce them with one thing **,** **a comma**." "Excuse me, sir." [Ma looks down to see a young Asian boy carrying something bigger than himself **,** **a cello case** ] "Could you please tell me how to get there **,** **Carnegie Hall**?" A flood of emotion comes over Ma in looking upon this classic aspirant **,** **a portrait of himself as a young man**. "Yes, son . . ."
**  
**

109. No Calm Ma Introduced a Phrase, a Klaus

Calm Yo-Yo Ma, long famed as a most mellow

Instrumentalist (his big old yellow

One he was most fond of playing on, a

Priceless centuries-old Montagnana

Cello), was invited, by persuasion:

"Come! A special musical _occasion_ :

Synthesizing merge of syntho-pop

And classical—you, Ma, will get the top

Star billing, while he, syntho-pop star Klaus

Schulze, shall go first. Ma, _you_ 'll bring down the house!"

Come concert night this impresario

Informed Ma (treachery!), "Ma, you're to go

On first, to introduce the syntho-pop star

Klaus who's, after all, de facto top star."

All calm lost, Ma fumed, " _Imp_ , I've, for you,

A choice word I'll now introduce you to:

_Goodbye!_ " Woe! from this lost-his-calm aplomb Ma

This imp learned his lesson: **Use a _calm_ Ma**

**To introduce a word, a phrase, a Klaus**

**_"Occasion" ally_**. Ma brought down the house.

_"Right!"_ Ma fumed, slamming the Carnegie Hall door behind him on the way out. "Two words pretty much sum up my musical career **,** **cello—and _Goodbye!_ **Well at least I was able to introduce them with one thing **,** **a comma** , if not a calm Ma. _Oooh!_ So that's what musical taste has come down to today **,** **syntho-pop**. And I can tell you what it all comes down to in the end **,** **a lack of musical taste**. That _impostor_ of an impresario leads me to believe that _I_ will go on following the opening 'act,' while all along he's planning for me to go on first and introduce _him_ , _**Klaus Schulze**._ Well, I'll give this imp credit for one thing **,** **he's got one damned lot of chutzpa—** " "Excuse me, sir." [Ma looks down to see a young Asian boy carrying something bigger than himself **,** **a cello case** ] "Could you please tell me how to get there **,** **Carnegie Hall**?" A flood of emotion comes over Ma in looking upon this classic aspirant **,** **a portrait of himself as a young man**. "Yes, son, I can tell you how to get there **,** **_practice_** _. ****_ But instead I'm going to introduce you to a little piece of advice **,** **_don't_**. Don't do _that_ **,** __**practice the cello**. Instead I advise you to do this **,** **_ru-u-u-n_** _._ Run down to the nearest Bubble Gum Music store and sign up for their most tasteless 'music' lesson **,** **syntho-pop**. Yes, that's the number of lessons you'll need **,** **one**. A minute later, when you've graduated, I want you to run back here and see me **,** **the one who can tell you the most direct route to Carnegie Hall**. The truth is, I could take a handful of Valiums, an anger-management class, meditate till the cows come _om_ , and introduce you to the impostor who runs the joint with a very calm-man _mark_ **,** **a calm Ma**. But, no, I'm going to go home, sit myself down in the smallest room of the house, and introduce that asinine assassin of musical taste with something _infinitely_ more assertive **:** **a colon**."

**Use no unnecessary commas**

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** **

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_Japanese_ ** _Prime Minister Hideki Tojo_** _radicallizing_ ** _Komma Kazi_** _._

"I, Hideki Tojo, General, Prime Leader of Japan, Asian, bureaucrat, warmonger, am, a _comma_ nder, fond, very much so, indeed, of using commas in my commands. Emperor Hero Hito saw how fatal my overuse of unnecessary commas was, and ordered me to send a suicide squad of these unnecessary 'commakazis' against the Allies. My hearing not being Hero Hito's, I thought he said unnecess _airy_ Komma Kazis, so I sent Komma up into the war-torn air, and, well, you know the rest, otherwise known as the pause. . . ."
**  
**

110. It's Death to Use Unnecessary Commas

Prime Leader Tojo called on Komma Kazi

One war-torn day. This gave Komma pause; he

Listened as Hideki Tojo said,

"Look, Komma Kazi, er, I need you . . . _dead._

We're losing the war, _badly_ —be a hero:

Sacrifice your life, take up this Zero,

Put it in your Komma Kazi dive,

With _zero_ chance, ah so, that you'll survive.

Your life will, true, be lost, a Zero goner,

But you'll save his, Hero Hito's, honor!"

This self-sacrifice, for _Tojo's_ cause,

Gave Komma Kazi (gulp) yet further pause:

One suicide-pact aspect was most stressful:

Being s. s. (suicide _successful_ ).

Here he was (gulp) in the war-torn air,

And zeroing in on—a carrier!

He paused . . . just long enough for the _U.S._

_S. Wasp_ to shoot his suicide success

Down; pause enough that, _Tojo_ , for his traumas,

Learned: **Use no un-s.s., airy Kommas**.

"I, Hideki Tojo, General, Prime Leader of Japan, Asian, bureaucrat, warmonger, am, a _comma_ nder, fond, very much so, indeed, of using commas in my commands. I use them, I do, everywhere I, myself, can, since, I find, they give me many opportunities, chances, during my commands, to take a most restful, relaxing, soothing, calming pause. This has not been lost on him, Emperor Hero Hito. He saw how fatal this overuse, of commas is, to anyone within earshot, or eyeshot, of me, General Tojo, and he appointed me Supreme Commander-in-Charge of Commas, and gave me two orders: '1), Don't go on, and on in your commanding way, talking about _me_ , in this unnecessary-commas fashion, to no end, else everyone will see the Emperor has no _close_ , as well; and, 2), begin, right now, using _commakazis_ , (suicide commas), against the Allies. What? No, not _correct_ "ground force" commas; only those, of the dreaded _Japanese Err Force_ , that will strike the Allies, dead, with fear: a suicide squad of _unnecessary_ commas that must not be used, _(a)_ , to separate a subject, from its verb, or a verb, from its object, or complement; _(b)_ , before an indirect quotation; _(c)_ , to sub for omitted pronouns, like _who_ , _whom_ , _that_ , _which_ ; _(d)_ , before the first, or after the last, member of a series; _(e)_ , between two, independent clauses; and, _(f)_ , to set off words in apposition, that are restrictive.' Well, naturally, my hearing not Hero Hito's, I thought he said to use _un-s.s., airy Kommas_ , so I con-scripted Komma Kazi, and, well, you know the rest, otherwise known as the pause: we Japanese lost the war, the Allies tried Komma, for war crimes, found him, like me, unnecess _airy_ , and sentenced him, to death. Me? Found trying, very, I was relieved of command (stripped of my commas), but not nearly so relieved as everyone else. Then I was hanged to death. Call it, karma."

**Use a comma to introduce a statement or question that's preceded by a mental question or musing aloud**

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**_Ranjha and Heer_** _, tragic Punjabi lovers, try to one-up one another in mental questions and musings, each one introduced by a comma._

"Ranjha, I wonder, can you be _that_ bad a speller?" "And I, Heer, can't help pondering, what do you mean?" "You spelled _questioner question or_, and I couldn't help mentally scratching my head, is Ranjha crazy?" "Well as soon as you uttered that, I, in order to even things up at two mental questions apiece, said to myself, doesn't Heer get it? There, we're even." "Right, we _were_ even, and I can't help asking myself, get _what_ , Ranjha?" "Now you're one up on me again. And I say to myself, is Heer trying to one-up me? . . ." 
**  
**

111. One wonders, Did Their Love Start with a Kama?

"I, Kama Sutra, wrote _The Book of Love._

But _read_ it? Lovers can't wait: push come shove,

They're so love-crazy they're not thinking straight;

So moved by love, they're so gone _nuts_ to date

They _simply_ cannot wait for love instruction,

So don't take time for an introduction

Of themselves, much less a statement or

A _mental_ question, one that comes before

A crazy lover questioning, he/she,

Their sanity for choosing (nuts!) to be

"So gone in love. Each might find it amusing

If each didn't question, for the losing

Of their sanity, 'God, could I be,

And could two be _twice_ that, so mentally

Love-nutty as to— _no_ , it's all too crazy;

Best to, just for being love-gone lazy,

**Let a _Kama_ introduce a statement**

**Or a question** (no love-nuts abatement)

**That's preceded by** (though three's a crowd)

**A mental questionor musing aloud**.' "

Heer and Ranjha, star-crossed Punjabi lovers, have just read Kama Sutra's introduction—and are crazier in love than ever. Heer, legendary for her beauty, is at first confused, but after Ranjha spells it out for her, muses aloud: "I wonder, can you be _that_ bad a speller?" "And I, Ranjha, legendary cowherd, can't help pondering, what do you mean?" "You spelled _questioner question or_, and I couldn't help mentally scratching my head, right through my pugree, is Ranjha crazy spelling _questioner_ with an _o_ instead of an _e_?" "Well as soon as you uttered that, I, in order to even things up at two mental questions apiece, said to myself, doesn't Heer get it? There, now we're even." "That's right, we _were_ even, because now I can't help asking myself, get _what_ , Ranjha?" "Now you're one up on me again. And I say to myself, is Heer trying to one-up me? There, we're even again at three mental questions apiece, all introduced by a comma. Now, to answer your question as to why I spelled _questioner_ with an _o_ instead of an _e._ _Hear_ , Heer. She, Kama Sutra spelled it _questionor_. I only went along with her spelling on the analogy of _interrogator_. I said to myself, musing aloud, if _interrogator_ is spelled _o r_, then I see no reason why _questioner_ shouldn't be spelled _questionor_. __ Besides, that's just the way it's spelled out in the ancient Ayurvedic rule of punctuation, and I quote: _Use a comma to introduce a statement or a question that's preceded by a mental questionor musing aloud._" "And I'm musing aloud, surely to Hindu gods Ranjha—the _coward_ —can't be so flaming daft as not to realize that it's _question or_ —two words—not _questionor_ , one word." "And I ask myself, does Heer not realize that I, a proud Punjabi, would never stoop to making such a god-awful pun as cowherd/coward?" "And I muse, doesn't Ranjha know: once a Punjabi, always a pun . . ."

**Restrictive relative clauses are not set off by commas**

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** **

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**_Ma and Pa Clawse_** _: he's restrictive, she's not. Hooch jar by Mason._

"Speakin' of settin' you off, Pa, since you're a restrictive Clawse that's not set off by commas, I'm for settin' you off with a common cause—stillin' me some hooch. And hooch _that fills me_ is just what I've got a hanker on for. But not just any old hooch. The hooch _[that] I'm restrictin' myself to_ (where the _that_ before _I'm_ is understood) is the hooch _[that]_ _you still for me_. And it's high time—moon's up!—that I and the revenooers _who depend on you for a livin'_ are gettin' fed up with your hooch-stillin' ways, Pa . . ."
**  
**

112. She Set Him Off Nights with a Common Cause

Of Ma and Pa Clawse, _she_ warn't too restrictive,

Drinkin' still-made hooch so plum addictive

It kept Pa deep in the backwoods till

All hours a-stillin' moonshine in his still.

The moon it was that gave the hooch its kick,

And made a body think that she could lick

The world—and Ma believed she really could:

She'd lick the jug—and she'd lick Pa right good!

Pa'd lick his wounds, and like all Ma-licked brewers,

Keep his eye out for the revenooers.

Ma'd set Pa off as the moon was risin'

So's to still her (" _More!_ ") hooch she was prizin'.

He'd've stayed abed and caught some sleep,

But Ma'd be hyped up for more hooch, so deep

He'd go to still a two-jug batch each night

("And bring back two what's _aged_ —before it's light!")

"It's _never_ light!" Pa had a mind to've said,

But knew enough to keep it in his head.

He knew: **Restrictive relative** Pa] **[Clawses**

**Aren't set off by calm Mas** [ _not_ what Pa's is].

The hooch _that Pa stilled_ was right pow'rful stuff, and had to be restricted; and Pa duly restricted himself. And every time Pa was stilled and that thought flowed through his head, he couldn't help thinking, "I plum distill two things from that: _that Pa stilled_ is a restrictive clause, and that 'Pa stilled' is a restrictive Clawse. And because neither one o' them ever _once_ pauses in goin' about their business, neither one needs to be set off by commas. Still, Pa, _who is not set off by a calm Ma_ , doesn't restrict himself, come to doin' Ma's biddin'. And I distill two things from that: Pa is a nonrestrictive Clawse, whereas _who is not set off by a calm Ma_ (where _who_ = Pa) is a nonrestrictive _clause._ This has the unsettlin' effect of makin' me suspect I'm bi-'Pa'lar—and is sceerin' me to death it'll get round." It did. Ma said, "That little birdie _that told me that you were bi-'Pa'lar_ was right to be restrictive and not go settin' that _bi-'Pa'lar_ clause off with commas. But he was plum _wrong_ in _not_ bein' restrictive about tellin' **the whole world** that I'm married to a bi-'Pa'lar _Clawse_ , and so settin' you off with calm awes. And speakin' of settin' you off, since you're a self-confessed-up restrictive Clawse that's not set off by commas, I'm all for settin' you off with a common cause—stillin' me a fresh new batch of hooch. And hooch _that fills me_ is just what I've got a hanker on for. But not just any old hooch. The hooch _[that] I'm restrictin' myself to_ (where, one understands, the relative pronoun _that_ before _I'm_ is understood) is the hooch _[that]_ _you still for me_. And it's high time—moon's up!—that I and all o' the revenooers _who depend on you for a livin'_ are gettin' about fed up with your hooch-stillin' ways, Pa—so don't let the well-worn door _that's plum made o' hick'ry_ hit you on the backside **_that's still none too quick about it_** __ on your way out!"

**Nonrestrictive clauses are set off by commas**

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** **

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**_Santa and Samantha Claus_** _, who wouldn't dream of charging one another with roaming, high atop the Sydney Harbor Bridge._

"Our cell phones, _which, naturally, have no roaming charges_ , serve us well, don't they, Samantha dear?" "Indeed, Santa. Our cell phones, _which we are sold a no-roaming-charges bill of goods on each month_ , __ serve as an apt metaphor for our nonrestrictive relationship, in that neither of us would dream of charging the other with roaming. Those clauses _that are so restrictive as to not be set off by commas_ would say we are naïve to be so nonrestrictive regarding each other's roaming." "That's because, dear Samantha . . ." 
**  
**

113. Two Nonrestrictive Clauses, How They Roam!

Although away up north in isolation,

They've such excellent communication,

Santa and Samantha Claus, that they

Are wholly unrestrictive in their way;

Both free to come and go just as they please

Down any of the heading-south degrees

That leave the frigid Pole that they call home,

All heading south (like marriage south of Nome).

So south each Claus goes, unrestricted wholly,

Comes back home again, one way: North Poley.

Neither fears the other's roaming much

At all since they're in such close cell-phone touch

At all times, when they'll ask, "Where are you now?"

And if, in answer to this cell powwow,

Their roaming half communicates, "Uh . . . Uh . . ."

They fast set off in search with an " _Uh-HUH!_

He's roaming—unrestricted—south of Nome!"

"She's roaming—unrestricted—south of _home_!"

The moral? **Nonrestrictive** are the dramas

When the **Clauses are set off by comm. "Uh . . ."s**.

__

"Our cell phones, _which, naturally, have no roaming charges_ , serve us well, don't they, dear?" Santa shmoozed on his way to a rooftop Christmas Eve chimney-down. "Indeed," Samantha concurred. "Our cell phones, _which we are sold a no-roaming-charges bill of goods on each month_ , __ serve as an apt metaphor for our nonrestrictive relationship, in that neither of us would dream of charging the other with roaming." "When in Roam, _which I was in an hour ago on-roof to Paris via Roam-Mania_ , do as the Roamings do, I always say." "Ha-ha, you're such a kidder, _which is what I love about you_ , Santa, my trusting nonrestrictive Claus. Those clauses _that are so restrictive as to not be set off by commas_ would say we are naïve to be so nonrestrictive regarding each other's roaming." "That's because, my dear Samantha, they, _those restrictive clauses you allude to_ , don't know that we, _and this is the heart of it_ , are very trusting of one another." "Oh, totally. As a result, these uptight clauses, _who fear allowing a single pair of commas to wrap their charms about the restrictive clause in their life_ , are jealous of our nonrestrictive natures." "Dear, I'd go further and say they're all green with envy that we nonrestrictive Clauses set off by comm. 'Uh . . .'s, _which Clauses may be taken out without changing the basic meaning of our long life sentence_ , have such a trusting relationship." "Totally. And speaking of being taken out, _which you haven't done once since we became lawfully nonrestrictive_, just _how_ far south are you?" "Uh . . . Uh . . ." "I thought so! Communicate why I shouldn't hit you with roaming charges, _which will appear boldly ticked off on my very next statement_ , since the nonrestrictive south-roaming Claus in my roamantically naïve life, **_who I once foolly trusted was at least that-far-south restrictive_**, set me off with comm. 'Uh . . .'s."

**Never join independent clauses with a comma**

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** **

****

_Already seeing red,_ ** _Zantac Claus_** _, bathed in the further light of Rudolph's nose, steers the fastest course for the Indy 500 as the backseat Claus of it all gives directions._

"Look out! _I am independent in my way, you are independent in your weigh._ [he pops another Zantac] Didn't you see that we're two independent clauses joined by a _comma_? If you had taken that defensive sleighing course, as I suggested, you could have prevented that fatal head-on collision, a comma splice, in one of four _safe_ ways: 1) put a period at the end of the first clause and capitalize the first letter of the grossly _obese_ clause: _I am independent in my way **. Y** ou are independent in your weigh _[he pops another Zantac] . . ."
**  
**

114. Two Clauses That You Never Join With Comma

Poor Zantac Claus had sleighved away all Christmas,

Then craved rest, jet flight: "Some sun-drenched isthmus."

Mrs. Claus scotched that: "What, take a _plane_ , dear?

When we've got a sleigh that _flies_ — _nine reindeer_?

Santa sighed, hitched Rudolph and the eight

Up for (God!) one more sleighman's holi-date.

Arrived, he needed no sun—he was browned off;

All trip long he couldn't turn her sound off:

"Greenland, turn _right_ — _watch out!_ for that seagull.

Slow down!— _look out!_ —didn't you see that eagle?"

He relax? Not for the dread of day

To come he'd have to sleigh her north in May.

"Till then," his Indy-mad sleighve-driving one said,

"We _must_ pend here, hang at the 500.

Awe-struck hordes, nail-biters, join us Clauses,

Taut-nerved, just to watch us be the causes

Of folks being _sleighed_ —they pay their coin

Each year to see it; know you **Never join**

('Wherever Clauses hang—a sleighing drama!')

**Indy-pendent Clauses with a calm awe**."

And she went right on back-seat sleighing: "Look out! _I am independent in my way, you are independent in your weigh._ [he pops another Zantac] Didn't you see that we're two independent clauses joined by a _comma_? If you had taken that defensive sleighing course, as I suggested, you could have prevented that fatal head-on collision, a comma splice, in one of four _safe_ ways: 1) put a period at the end of the first clause and capitalize the first letter of the grossly _obese_ clause: _I am independent in my way **. Y** ou are independent in your weigh;_ 2) use a semicolon between the two: _I am independent in my way **;** you are independent in your weigh;_ 3) put a conjunction between the two clauses—like the one, I'm sorry to say, between _you and me_ —and keep the comma: _I am independent in my way_ **, _and_** _you are independent in your weigh;_ or 4) make one of the clauses, the grossly _fat_ one, subordinate to the other, and keep the comma: _I am independent in my way **,** **while** you are independent in your weigh_. Hold on! There's yet a _fifth_ defensive maneuver you could have taken to keep me safe: don't sleigh me after you've taken a fifth of _anything_ , __ especially not the Fifth Amendment, and getting so intoxicated with taking a conjunctive adverb for a spin that a collision such as _I am independent in my way, **howev** —look out! _[CRASH!] How many times have I told you not to sleigh and drive a conjunctive adverb at the same time? [his ulcer screams for another Zantac] If you had taken that sleighing course instead of the Fifth as I told you to, you'd've seen to use a _semi_ colon, thus taking only a _tenth—_ well within the legal limit: _I am independent in my way **; however,** you are independent in your weigh._ But _no-o-o-o_ , you've got to do things _your_ weigh. Well, I've had it. That's the last time I get myself into any sleighve-driven comma-law marriage."

**If a parenthetic expression is preceded by a conjunction, place the first comma before the conjunction, not after it**

****

** **

**_Joseph and Mary_** _: the calm ah after the conjunction._

"Ah me, here I am a parent by way of **,** **_as_** _Mary_ _puts it_ , 'Immaculate Conception.' That is something I never would have conceived of **,** **_although_** _ she obviously did_, we men not being known **,** _**either** in Nazareth or the Greater Holy Land_, for our ability to conceive things. Still, I am calm about **,** **_and_** _no less comma bout_ , my grammar: whenever I calmly interpose a parenthetic expression preceded by a conjunction **,** _**such as** 'Whatever, Mary **,** ' _

**_and_** _not a little calmly_ , I never fail to place a comma before the conjunction. . . ."

****
**  
**

115. He Placed His Commas Pre- and Post-conjunction

The Virgin Mary spake on birthing Jesus:

She: _"Immaculate Conception."_ He was,

Joseph, well, surprised to be a father,

Absent the stock child-conceiving bother.

This was hardest of all parent theses

To believe: that she, with such increase-ease,

Absent all conjunction, could (how odd),

Bless him with child—at that the child of _God_!

"But Mary's _true_ , it must be, as she saith,

A miracle of God to test my faith."

Believing true this parent thesis, he

Then calmly sang out, _parent_ hetically,

" _Con_ -junction (none)—ah, me, I must admit,

In faith, _Conception_ most _Immaculate_."

But his calm "ah" came _after_ the " _Con-_ junction,"

Taught him: **If a** [no conjoining function]

**Parenthetic statement is preceded**

**By " _Con-_ junction," place the** [great calm needed]

**First calm "Ah" before** [since, postcompunction,

No _calm_ "Ah!" comes after] **the " _Con-_ junction**."

Joseph was very calm **,** **_for_** _a Nazarene_ , __ and was known throughout Nazareth as a man of many calm expressions. And yet **, _although_** _the father of many_ , "Ah **,** " **_because_** _he uttered it with consummate tranquility_ **,** _**and** often_, was the one for which he was best known. At the same time Joseph **,** **_while_** _he was unquestionably a man of faith_ , had **,** **_notwithstanding_** _his belief in Mary_ , __ a tad of the doubting Thomas in him. Even so **,** **_considering_** _he had a valued reputation for calmness to uphold_ , Joseph was every bit as calm about **,** **_and_** _no less comma bout_ , his grammar: whenever he calmly interposed a parenthetic expression preceded by a conjunction **,** _**as** he often did to show off his parenthing prowess_ **,** **_and_** _not a little vainly_ , he never failed to place a comma _before_ the conjunction: "Ah me," he would sigh, "Mary has given birth to Jesus **,** **_and_** _a beautiful child he is at that_ , by way of **,** **_as_** _she puts it_ , 'Immaculate Conception.' That is something I never would have conceived of **,** **_although_** _ she obviously did_, we men not being known **,** _**either** in Nazareth or the Greater Holy Land for that matter_, for our ability to conceive things. I want to believe **,** _**because** I am a true believer_, __ that Mary has been true; but **,** _**and** this is where my faith is stretched as thin as a Hittite soup_, __ I wonder if one **, _for_** _lack of the usual co-relative (husband/wife) conjunction_ , __ can be the father of anything. Well, here I am **,** _**providing** what Mary says is true_, __ a father. And I believe **,** _**insofar** **as** I am a believer_, __ that there isn't a single father in Nazareth **,** _**nor** all the Holy Land_, who **,** **_though_** _calm_ , would be as calm as I about being a father by Immaculate Conception. Ah, what other man so believes in putting his commas before **,** _**because** they shouldn't come after_, his conjunctions **,** **_and_** _so_ _calm-'Ah'ly,_ as to be conceived **,** **_and_** _by 'conceived' I mean thought_ , the Father of Immaculate Calmception?"

19. Semicolons

_Sometimes you get a glimpse of a semicolon coming, a few lines farther on, and it is like climbing a steep path through woods and seeing a wooden bench just at a bend in the road ahead, a place where you can expect to sit for a moment, catching your breath._

—Lewis Thomas

**To Hear Him Talk, You End Up Half Convinced**

"Entirely a __ mark of separation

Or division; but not termination

Of a statement; not one to enclose

Or introduce (not _ever_ one of those);

Considerably **stronger** than a comma;

Positively heighten the pause drama;

Always let you catch a **greater** break

Between two independent clauses (take

Your time . . . kick back . . . relax); don't have that vice

That Commas __ is so _bad_ at—comma splice;

"Not one to finish what I start one bit;

Of course not one to ( _hush! shut up!_ ) admit

I'm __**weaker** than a period (how dark!);

A question mark; an exclamation mark;

A colon; nothing's closed with me; not shut;

You cannot end a sentence __ with me; but

Who wants to bring things to an end? Not _I_ ;

I never _ever_ want to see things die;

Depart; pass on; expire; _cease to be_ ;

No dot; no comma; no _se-_ ; end of _mi_!"

Oh, darlings—how sad! No one wants to contemplate the "end of _mi_ ," do they? What? No, I didn't say the end of _me_ , I said the end of _mi_ , short for Se _mi_ colons, as I am short with those who thought I said the end of _me_ , and, unlike Semicolons, were not all that broken up about it. But as Groucho Marx, you all remember him, quipped in _Duck Soup_ , "Come on over for a duck dinner; you bring the duck." Now, then, did everyone notice how the one half of the tantalizing duck ("Come on over for a duck dinner") was making you drool on one side of the semicolon, while its other half ("you bring the duck") was making your mouth water on the other side? What? _We can't see it_? Well that's because you were _listening_ to __ my point instead of _seeing_ it; that Groucho was engaged (sigh) in half-selling you a duck. The French call such a half-sold duck a _canard_ , not knowing a duck when they see one. What's that, Semintha? _You had a gooey duck on the half shell once_? Yes, well that's a whole different kettle of bivalves, isn't it? But when it comes to punctuational taste, well, you can't beat a semicolon, can you? What? _What's a samurai colon?_ Well, it's . . . it's a Japanese warrior, yes, that's it, halfway between a calm awe—and a _period of hacking little unpunctual unlearnniks to death with his samurai sword._

Oh, but today we don't settle our grievances by the sword do we? No, we don't need to; we have the semicolon, a no less pointed instrument that sticks itself into the middle of things— _right up to the hilt_. Yes, you instinctively duck( **;** ) _you_ have free will. But groups of words aren't so lucky( **;** ) they can only sit there and get pointedly stuck in the middle. You'll remember that Semicolons, a thoroughbred mixed metaphor who got mixed up, racially, with a duck, a canard, and a gooey duck, was going strong in the first stanza of the Can-Ducky Derby, showing us what a thoroughbred separatist he is: out of the gate he bolted into the pack and separated two independent clauses not joined by a conjunction: _I'm quite the runner, all right **;**_ _I can quickly separate myself from the pack._ Fast as that, he parted two independent clauses joined by a conjunctive adverb: _I always knew I was good **;**_ **_however_** _, I discovered I was far better than I thought._ Next, he deftly split up two long clauses containing internal punctuation: _My intention, as it always is, was to show them my bossy side, my long stride, and my shiny coat **;**_ _and, taking all in all, which was a stretch, I'd have to say I succeeded._ Dashing for the finish line, he separated groups of words for clarity: _I bested Seattle Slew, out of Lexington, Kentucky **;**_ _Man o' War, out of Mahubah, my dam mother **;**_ _undersized, crook-legged Seabiscuit, out of the money **;**_ _as well as Lame Duck, an animated beast, sired by Disney Studios, out Anaheim, CA way._

Yet, despite a fast-breaking first-stanza start—what's that, Semintha? _Semicolons just skipped right over his inabilities to terminate, enclose, and introduce_? Well of course he did. What better way to show what a strong _jumper_ he is than by leaping clear over his weaknesses and shortcomings, and running on and on about how you'd never catch _him_ making an illegal comma splice between independent clauses—as Commas frequently does; also, how he continually takes a _greater_ break than Commas—just like some little fillies and colts I know during recess—isn't that right, _Sammycolon_?

Oh, but what a difference a stanza makes! Despite he came out of the gate strong, you'd have thought Semicolons had never heard the old racetrack proverb _Never pull in your verse when he's running good to give him sugar._ Given his head again, going into the second stanza it was as if he'd pulled up lame the way he dropped back and began to show his punctuational impotence: he was _weaker_ than Periods; _feebler_ than Question Marks; more _feckless_ than Exclamation Marks; and relatively _spineless_ compared with Colons. Sadly, he couldn't finish, end, terminate what he'd started, much less a sentence, leaving _me_ to half-sell you, on the half-shell as some of you so preciously say, on

**The Novel Rules of Semicolons**

**Semi-colon Powell, Kofi Annan**

Use a semicolon between independent clauses that contain internal punctuation

**Dr. Laura**

Use the semicolon to split up independent clauses not joined by a conjunction

**Red Riding Hood, the Big Bad Wolf**

Use a semicolon in place of a comma when a longer pause is desired

**Jascha Halfetz**

Do not overplay the semicolon
**  
**

**Use a semicolon between independent clauses that contain internal punctuation**

****

** **

****

_Before the U.N. General Assembly, U.S. Secretary of State_ ** _Semi-Colon Powell_** _feels for the cancerous missing half of his Colon; meanwhile, U.N. Secretary General_ ** _Kofi Annan_** ** __**_puts out feelers for his own cancerous corruption._

"Kofi, listen, your vital UNards are all punctuated with cancer, just like mine were, but it's not a death sentence. So my advice to you, though I'm not a that/which doctor, is this: whenever you are given a death sentence that is UNduly lengthy, internally punctuated with cancer, and contains no semicolon to separate the independent clauses, then you must refrain, cease, desist, quit, halt, end, **stop** , but, then again, as self-serving as it may seem, I can't advise you strongly enough: _Use a blessed semicolon after_ **stop**."
**  
**

116. A Semi- for Internal Punctuation

Poor Semi-Colon Powell was half the man

He was before the dread _malignant_ can-

cer of the Colon "puncked" the lower half;

"Big C" foreboding of his epitaph.

Oncologists: "Your Colon's punctuated

On the inside with that cancer fated—"

"NO!" "to spread; must cut the dread rot out,

Or—Pow!—ell _dead_ you'll be; we've not a doubt."

They made short work: the once-proud Colon, he

Was left but half his name diploma-C.

He took this half to the United Nations,

Shrine of cancerous associations

Puncked by inner cancer: " 'Oil for Food.'

And, Kofi, _you're in deep_ (clause one) and _you'd_

_Best_ _cut it out_ (clause two)—or it's the end

Of Kofi! on that you can _in deep_ end.

I'll cut it out for you if you'll but **Use**

**A Semi-Colon in between** —you'll lose

Those **in-deep endant clauses that contain**

**Internal punctuation** — _life_ retain!

"Kofi, listen," Semi-Colon Powell diplomatted on, "your vital UNards are all punctuated with cancer, just like mine were, but it's not a death sentence. Take my case (as broken to me by my oncologists): _The cancer in your Colon, Colon (I was then still Colon), which started out as two tiny black dots, one atop the other, has typographically grown, spread, swelled, advanced, dispersed, metastasized, **however** , since, collectively, all these verbs may be summed up into one, "radiated"—which it has done to an alarming degree!—well, it occurs to us that the thing to do, in our unanimous opinion, is to take a little hair of the dog that bit you, a common folk remedy—especially amongst you people of voodoo descent—and then, under the supervision of, and in collaboration with, your family witch doctor, subject it to yet more radiation.'_ Now _that_ , Kofi, is a death sentence. Absolutely fatal. To begin with, the sentence is lengthy, like my colon _used_ to be; what's more, it's just lousy with internal punctuation; and so virulent, so _vile_ , is this deadliest of cancers, punctuoma, that it has infected the ill-fated conjunctive adverb **however** , and is even now trying to fool the body (the reading public) into thinking that it's just one more in a long, cancerous string of verbs of proliferation followed by a comma. See, without a semicolon after _metastasized_ , poor **_however_** —hell!—the _entire sentence_ is doomed. So my advice to you, Kofi, though I'm not a that/which doctor, is this: whenever you, the _wooly_ _head_ of the corrupt United Nations, are given a death sentence that is UNduly lengthy, internally punctuated with cancer, and contains no semicolon to separate the independent clauses, then you must refrain, cease, desist, quit, halt, end, **stop** , but, then again, self-serving as it may seem, I can't, sir, advise you strongly enough: _Use a blessed semicolon after_ **stop**."

**Use the semicolon to split up independent clauses not joined by a conjunction**

****

** **

****

**_Dr. Laura_** _explains to Larry King the instant metamorphosis she undergoes when some independent claws claws her way onto the Dr. Laura and Mrs. Hyde call-in show._

D-day. The Dr. being in, the first in-D-pendent claws (like all such unwed mothers she hangs on Dr. Laura's every blast) calls in for **_"Sin!"_** pathy—and does she ever get it, it being Dr. Laura's scathing bad-side manner. This claws ( _"I can't keep my unmarried claws off him"_ ) no sooner launches into her confession than Dr. Laura blasts her and hangs her out to dry. She glances at the bank of incoming calls and sees another in-D-pendent claws hanging on, waiting to claw her way into her fifteen seconds of shame. . . .
**  
**

117. She Split Her Clauses with a Semicolon

"In," Dr. Laura has no dearth of call-ins,

Blasting each one's sinful moral fallin's.

_The_ sin to pre-merit her full wrath?

Premarital sex ( ** _"Sin!"_** ) pre–bridal path.

Some call-in's sinning so pre–marriage knot

(Not legally conjunctioned) gets her _shot_ :

"A single mom, I just can't keep my paws,

Doc, off his fles—" "You mean your sinful _claws_.

You're shameless, irrepons—oh, stop your bawlin'

_—Blast_ you! I must take another call-in":

[Semi driver calls in on his cell phone]

Him she blasts upon his catching-hell phone;

Then blasts— _"Trollop!"_ —all the more another

Independent (unconjunctioned) mother

Who can't keep her claws off some man's flesh;

For her sins Dr. Laura's hot to thresh

Her with a blast—and does so, for it's all in

A D's work to **Use the semi-call-in**

**To split independent clawses _not_**

**Joined by conjunction** — ** _"Sin!"_** —the blast white hot.

D-day. The Dr. being in, the first in-D-pendent claws (like all such unwed mothers she hangs on Dr. Laura's every blast) calls in for **_"Sin!"_** pathy—and does she ever get it, it being Dr. Laura's scathing bad-side manner. This claws ( _"I can't keep my unmarried claws off him"_ ) no sooner launches into her confession than Dr. Laura summarily blasts her and hangs her out to dry. " _Well_ ," Dr. Laura's voice blasts out of a million receivers across the heartland and into twice that many, "it didn't take _her_ long to get on my bad side, did it?" She glances at the bank of incoming calls (they're Mauler ID'd) and sees another in-D-pendent claws hanging on, waiting to claw her way into her fifteen seconds of shame. "I could simply separate the awaiting in-D-pendent claws, _'I can't keep my unwed claws off him'_ —it's always the same thing with these clawses—from her blasted predecessor, _'I can't keep my unmarried claws off him,'_ with nothing more than a bare-naked comma, but that would be a most sinful comma splice-cum- ** _Sin!_** Or I could keep them apart with a period, quite the legal—and _moral_ —thing to do; but these periods of abstinence never last long. Or I could just go ahead and join them with a comma and a conjunction, that would be legal too—but these two _un_ wed tramps show that they're not prone to _lawful_ conjunction. Besides the rule, _my_ rule, unequivocally states that I must _Use a semi-call-in to separate in-D-pendent clawses not joined by a conjunction_. So I'll have to keep looking over the bank of callers for just such— _ah!_ just what the Dr. ordered. And as much as this semi-call-in may be but a half-fast truck driver—and bitter that I said so—now, ooooooh, I can blast these two independent, unconjunctioned clawses with _'At least having this bitter half—for bitter or worse—is better than having **no better half!** ' _"

**Use a semicolon in place of a comma when a longer pause is desired**

****

** **

**_Red Riding Hood_** _is in need of longer pause._

"I know just how you feel about desiring longer pause, Gram-Ma. Sometimes, in my haste to get things out I only separate them with a brief **pause,** one not more than the length of a comma." "Yes, I see what you **mean;** just as you did after **pause**." "I _did_ , __ didn't I?" "You certainly did, **dear;** but had you used a semicolon in place of a comma, as I did after **mean** and **dear,** you would have achieved the longer pause you so desired. Speaking of paws, I _do_ wish you'd come closer, sweet thing, that I may get my paws . . ." 
**  
**

118. She and the Wolf Both Longed for Longer Pause

"Oh, goodness me," Red Riding Hood said, "how

—How _good_ I'd be if I should call on now

My semi-invalided Gram-Ma Calm,

Who once taught grammar with a calm aplomb;

Call on her in her place deep in the wood

—Oh, yes, how, very, __ very, _very_ good

Of me that would be." She set out at once

Along the trail she hadn't tread for months,

Not realizing, when she reached her door,

The Big Bad Wolf had gotten there before.

"Oh, goodness gracious, Gram-Ma Calm," she said

As Gram-Ma Calm lay calmly in her bed,

"What long, long, looooong . . . er, _paws_ you have, I swear

I don't remember that they'd so much _hair_

When last I called upon you—" "And yet, dear,

I long to have them _longer_ ; __ you're not near

Enough for me—come close that I, my love,

May **Use a semi-call-on in place of**

**A Calm Ma** (and well satisfy a _maw's_

Desire) **where one longs for longer paws**."

"I know just how you feel about desiring longer pause, Gram-Ma," Red Riding Hood sighed from the foot of the bed. "Sometimes, in my excitement to get things out, I only separate them with a brief **pause,** one not more than the length of a comma." "Yes, I see what you **mean;** just as you did after **pause**." "I _did_ , __ didn't I, Gram-Ma?" "You certainly did, **dear;** but had you used a semicolon in place of a comma, as I did after **mean** and **dear,** you would certainly have achieved the longer pause you so desired. Speaking of paws, I _do_ wish you'd come closer, sweet thing, that I may get my paws upon **you;** just to show you (drool!) how I pawsitively _love_ a little girl in a red riding hood. I do hope, dear, you noticed how my pause after **you** was noticeably longer than a **comma;** precisely the length of a semicolon. I used that one, just as I did after **comma,** to show you how much your poor old Gram-Ma's paws are longing to reach out and hold you close. Phew! And now I'm longing to pause to catch my breath. If this keeps up my two paws will soon be long enough to get hold of your delectable personage—even way down at the foot—" " **But** But Gram-Ma—there! You see how much of a hurry I'm in? I didn't even stop for a comma pause after— **but** __ what long drops of saliva, like upside-down commas, now fall from your long, loooong _canine_ **teeth,** long enough (gulp!) to give anyone **pause** —and Lord knows I can use it more than ever after speeding things along with a comma after **teeth,** and the alarmed use of an em dash after **pause**." " _Thank you_ , __ dear, for that 'along.' I believe that my paws are just long enough now— _to reach out and grab_ —" "Why why y-y- _you're_ not Gram-Ma Calm you're—" [We pause to bring you this anything-but-long public service announcement: "If you see long paws— _don't!_ Get along with you— _fast!_ "]
**  
**

**Do not overplay the semicolon**

****

** **

****

_Vilna, Russia, 1907. Child prodigy_ ** _Jascha Halfetz_** _overplays the semicolon to an overflow audience who rapidly flow over the broad concourse and out of earshot._

"Jascha, _please_ —enough with the semi-calling already!" "But **;** father **;** I use it for one reason **;** I am a child prodigy **;** and it's inherent in the nature of a prodigy to be _prodigal_ with that prodigious gift **;** to play it over and over and over **;** and so become a virtuoso. I may be very little **;** but I don't have a very little prodigality. In fact **;** after a long day of overplaying the violin I've so much prodigality left over that I put it to good use **;** in learning to overplay the semicolon. Allow me to play you a partial Liszt of them **;**. . ."
**  
**

119. He Overplayed the Semicolon; Oy!

Wee Jascha Halfetz got his semi-calling

(Playing violin) when he was small in

Vilna, Russia; starting at age three,

He played with Halfetz virtuosity.

(The one he started out to prodigize

Upon was half as small, but Halfetz-size.)

Yet at all hours of Vilnan day and night

Young Jascha gave it his whole-hearted might.

Those hearing could but sigh, "How _grate_ are the

Outpourings of this Half-size prodigy!"

While Jascha went on prodigizing so,

His parents poured out sighs prodigious—oh!

Sighed raw emotions that their prodigy

Evoked in them so very audibly;

So much so that each Halfetz parent's better

Halfetz was, for Jascha's strains, _regretter_

Of their half-size prodigy. Ear-sore,

They, for the strain of this, sighed all the more

That Jascha never, for their aural mauling,

Learned: **Don't overplay the semi-calling**.

" _Ai!_ if only we could teach our Jascha—too clever by Halfetz—not to overplay the semi-calling so," his mother sighed. "Oy! from your lips to God's ears," his father groaned. "Jascha, _please_ —enough with the semi-calling already!" "But **;[,]** father **;[,]** I use it for one reason **;[:]** I have a very good excuse **;[:]** I am a prodigy **;[,]** and it's inherent in the nature of a prodigy to be _prodigal_ with that prodigious gift **;[correct]** to play it over and over and over **;[,]** and so become a virtuoso. I may be very little **;[,]** but I don't have a very little prodigality. In fact **;[,]** after a long day of overplaying the violin I've so much prodigality left over that I put it to good use **;[ ]** in learning to overplay the semicolon. One of the first overplay rudiments I learned was to wrongly use the semicolon over a colon as a mark of introduction **;[,]** in order to alert the listener that 'something is to follow **';[,']** like a list or statemen— " "But Jascha, one cannot tell that someone has used a semicolon in place of a colon with the _ear_ , only with the eye." "Well, that's very true **;[—]** but you must admit you _see_ my point? Now the second overplay rudiment I learned was to set off phrases and independent clauses in ways not deemed kosher by orthodox grammarians **;[,]** such as **;[ ]** _never_ using my prodigality to learn that a comma **;[,]** not a semicolon **;[,]** must follow a dependent clause **;[ correct]** so I go about Vilna saying semicolonic things like _Because I am a prodigy **;[,]** you all must suffer my prodigality._ I do this just to hear Vilnans cry **;[,]** 'He _vill_ not use a comma to save his poor parents' souls.' Only this morning I mastered saying **;[,]** by way of summary **;[,]** _I am precocious **;[,]** gifted **;[,]** brilliant **;[,]** a prodigal son **;[:]** these are the sum of my genius._ [they begin to sob] Oh **;[,]** I have just the thing for you **;[:]** a halfway decent tearjerker that I composed in Nothing-flat for the semicolon **;[.]** "

20. Colons

_Since I came to the White House I got two hearing aids, a colon operation, skin cancer, a prostate operation, and I was shot. The damn thing is, I've never felt better in my life._

—Ronald Reagan

**A Simple Case of Double-Dot Inflation**

"A mark of expectation or addition,

Here's what I do _best_ —of ALL (my mission):

Give you a heads-up: _Hey_ , something's coming

After me: a word, phrase, clause, __ or summing

Up; a list of things; a tabulation;

Name-a-bunch-of-things enumeration;

Glib quotation, with (or not) the craft

Of curled quotation marks—before and aft;

An illustration; or else an explaining

That my two dots—both—are preordaining:

"What was pledged _before_ me and was billed

To be fulfilled will be just that: fulfilled,

Which may be simply an example or

A clarifying of what came before,

Or a restatement of it, or, most prized,

A spelling out of what was generalized.

Oh, _what_ a mark am I! I **INTRODUCE**.

Well, yes, I _am_ swellheaded; my excuse

Is this: a dot in my first punctuation,

Karma dealt me double-dot inflation."

Yes, my darlings, I don't wonder that your two little eyes grow wide, for _that_ is the very mark of conceit: being so swellheaded that you need _two_ heads (Semicolons calls them _pin_ heads) to contain all that you're so full of yourself of. And what Colons is particularly swell at is this: introductions. So much so that I can't tell you how many times a day it crosses my mind: "Colons has missed his calling: matchmaker." Or did he? Conceited as he is, this at least must be conceded him: Colons, after proper introductions are made all around, perfectly matches the _expectations_ , the _promises_ on his left, to the breathlessly awaiting _fulfillments_ on his right, and does so in any number of swellheaded ways:

**List:** Three subjects are impossible to teach: math; science; and any learnnik who has no more sense than to live under a monarchy.

**Quotation:** Only listen to the words of Marie Antoinette, Queen of France: "Let them eat cake."

**Illustration:** The people acted in strange ways: for instance, they beheaded her; then made a pain-and-ink drawing of her head for a book on a very touchy subject: _Rule Me Once, Shame on You; Rule Me Twice, Shame on Me: 1793 Ways to Effectively Use the Guillotine So You'll Never Have to Use the Shame One Twice._

**Explanation:** We had a good reason for doing this: we don't like cake.

**Example:** Take our way of discouraging this sort of thing, for example: we make an example of all "Let-them-eat-cake!" types.

**Clarification:** Let us make the word "example" perfectly clear: how do you like _them_ severed Adam's apples?

**Restatement:** We repeat: would you like your Adam's apple pie á la mowed down in the prime of life now, or would you rather have it at once with "I scream"?

**Spelling Out a Generalization:** As a rule, kings, queens, princes, princesses, having long outlived their uselessness, have had their day in court, and this is its just ruling:

J-u-s-t k-n-e-e-l d-o-w-n h-e-r-e a-n-d p-u-t y-o-u-r h-e-a-d o-n t-h-i-s n-i-c-e b-l-o-c-k.

But what a blockhead I am! Will I—like some learnnecks I know—never learn? Here am _I_ telling you all about Colons, when I have already stuck my poor impoverished neck out —and put it on the block of some _five hundred_ celebrity versifiers—to sear all this into your little sieves that you flatter yourselves to call memories. Yes, and some of you can be thankful that you still _have_ yours, sitting atop your several Adam's-appled learnnecks, for all your acting like little princes and princesses—can't you? But never mind that now. What I wanted to say is, old Tevye, you all remember him from Adjectives and Adverbs, he also missed his calling: calling on Colons. If only he'd used _him_ , instead of fiddling around with the super Lative, as a matchmaker. You can just bet that Colons would have introduced his daughters Tzeitel, Chava, and Hodel to matches made in heaven.

Then again, there are matches made in having made a _blunder_ , aren't there? Yes, such as when some little unlearnniks stick Colons in _where he doesn't belong_ :

Ms. Spinster never _ever_ teaches us the three R's that are **:** [ _WRONG!_ ] **** Redding, 'rithing, and 'retha Franklin.

Instead, all she teaches us are the three "are"s that consist of **:** [ _WRONG!_ ] "Are you listening?" "Are you paying attention?" "Are you LEARNING?"

No, some people _never_ learn, do they? But let us not point them out just yet, my little wild colonials, because now, on this side of the colon, is where I hereby promise to match you all up with what comes, with such giddy expectation, on the other side:

**The Novel Rules of Colons**

**Colon Powell**

A colon should separate hour from minute in a notation of time

**Growl Tiger**

A colon should go right behind the greeting of a formal letter

**Cologne Ranger, Jesus Christ**

A colon should separate a Bible chapter from a verse

**Lon Chaney**

A colon should separate the title of a work from its subtitle

**Loretta Lynn**

Use a colon to set off a quotation that supports the preceding clause

**Papa and Mama Claus**

Conjoin two independent clauses with a colon if the second clause amplifies the first

**Jimmy Carter**

Place a colon right behind an independent clause to introduce illustrative quotation

**Vanessa and Lynn Redgrave**

Use a colon after an introductory statement to show that something is to follow

**Kato Kolon, Marcia Clark**

Use a colon when a sentence contains a "question/answer" that's implied

**A colon should separate hour from minute in a notation of time**

****

** **

****

_11:43_ _A.M. : U.S. Secretory of Meat _**_Colon Powell_** _flies the White House in high anticipation of arriving at the Red Meat Eatery precisely on time for his accustomed 12:00_ _P.M. luncheon._ __

"1159. Good. Though I have no time now, if I hurry and insert myself between the second '1' and the '5' I can just make sufficient time—11:59—giving me a whole minute to make it to The Red Meat Eatery for my 12:00 P.M. luncheon. I've made the time 12:00 _P.M._ to distinguish it from 12:00 _A.M._ , __ the time for my meaty 12:00 A.M.—not _midnight_ —snack. A midnight snack hasn't one colon in it. And without a colon, I could hardly turn it to good account. No wonder I'm the Secretory of Meat, and everybody else isn't. . . ." 
**  
**

120. He Parted Them, and Got There Just in Time

No Secretary, Colon Powell, of Sweet,

He one BIG eater, all his life, of meat,

Dined each noon at The Red Meat Eatery,

And, with first bite, became secretory:

His salivary glands, his stomach too

(Especially if rare and barbecue).

One lunch, while tearing into a choice limb,

His red-meat-eating ways caught up with him,

And— _Pow!_ —ell colon turned to one sore knot

(He wasn't christened Colon Powell for naught).

Rushed to the nearest trauma colony,

He heard ". . . exploratory surgery."

Deep in his gut, since time was of the essence,

They cut—found a _cancerous putrescence_ ;

Sewed him up, said "What a lot of rot!

All—your meat-eating time has come—you've got

Between your minutes and—yes, go on, _howl_ —

Hours, is your pustulating bowel.

Time you learned, for all the pus within it:

**Suppurates, a colon, hour from minute**."

"1159. Good. Though I, Secretory Powell, have no time just now, if I hurry up and insert myself between the second '1' and the '5' I can just make sufficient time—11:59 to be exact—giving me a whole minute to make it to The Red Meat Eatery for my accustomed 12:00 P.M. luncheon. There. Needless to say I have made the time 12:00 _P.M._ in order to distinguish it from 12:00 _A.M._ which, of main course, is the time for my meaty 12:00 A.M. __ snack. Some far-less-than-discriminating gourmands crudely allude to this time-honored repast as a 'midnight snack'—but not Colon Powell. A midnight snack hasn't so much as a single colon in it, does it? And without a colon, _I_ could hardly turn it to good account, now could I? Yes, it's no wonder I was appointed Secretory of Meat, and everybody else wasn't. Who else would have thought of that crucial detail—and in such timely fashion? But I digress, and I find myself now with something less than a minute to get to my 12:00 P.M. luncheon. But since I have had my hand, trembling with anticipation, on the knob of The Red Meat Eatery's door since 11:58:59 A.M. (and have been drooling like a carnivore at an abattoir ever since); and given that I began turning the worn doorknob at precisely 11:59:01 A.M.; had my raring-to-go foot inside the door at 11:59:02 A.M.; began striding, ravenously, to my table in the corner with the sign in blood-red letters 'RESERVED FOR THE SECRETORY OF MEAT' at 11:59:36 A.M.; was handed my monogrammed XXL bath towel by the meatre d' at 11:59:41 A.M.; had finished wiping my drooling chin at 11:59:44 A.M.; and as I am now pulling out my chair at 11:59:47 A.M.; seating my big red-meat seatery at 11:59:54 A.M., I anticipate arriving right on time, to the second, for my 12:00 P.M. appointment: 'Sec'retory of Meat for a 'second' salivating term of orifice."

**A colon should go right behind the greeting of a formal letter**

****

** **

****

_Respecting his correspondence,_ ** _Growl Tiger_** _is strictly the formal type._

My Dear Colon: Please be advised that I am in receipt of your most recent peristaltic movements of the first instant. Please know that I am much relieved and gratified that you so kindly corresponded in timely fashion to my latest ingestion of a formal letter, bringing it to a most satisfactory end. Sincerely yours in passing, Growl Tiger. PS: Please convey my warmest regards to your significant other, 'the little intestine.' Ironically, though I've known you long (all my life), I've known her five or six times longer. . . ."
**  
**

121. His Colon Capped His Formal Salutation

"Growl Tiger, I've no growling appetite

For some informal letter, not a bite.

But now a _formal_ letter—yum! and all—

Is really quite a different animal.

A glimpse upon its formal salutation

Serves to cause my drooling salivation,

Wetting fangs and whetting _eat_ desire,

And kindles up my tiger's 'b'-line fire

To pass it off—as 'business'—not leave swollen

My full formal-letter-eating colon.

"One informal letter chomped down _once_

Was causal of a stomach ache for months:

I ate its salutation, every bit

—And _suffered_ that _no colon_ ended it.

Those months just getting back to tiger normal

Made me swear off letters so informal.

_Oh!_ the growling stomach ache I earned

Taught me to stick to formal ones. I've learned:

**A colon should go right behind** [it _better_!]

**The _gr-r-r-r_ eating of a formal letter**.

"My Dear Colon: [Growl Tiger's habit of addressing his lifetime co-respondent was in strict keeping with formality, and he would suffer no irregularity in doing his business.]

"Please be advised that, as per long-standing custom, I am running my thoughts together in the usual mishmash manner, everything smooshed together, 'cheek by bowel,' so to speak, as our lifelong association has taught me is your preference. That said, I am most happy to inform you that I am in receipt of your epistle of the 1st instant conveying the sensation of your most recent peristaltic movements, and that the signals I received were suffice in the extreme to give every indication that the said movements were sensational, as usual. Allow me to say that I am greatly relieved and gratified that you have so kindly corresponded in such timely fashion, as is your own regular habit, to my latest ingestion of a formal letter (a direct consequence of my stomach having growled). Therefore, let me take this opportunity to convey to you how delighted I am that, once again, you have brought this formal-letter-ingesting business to such a satisfactory end. Sincerely yours in passing, Growl Tiger. PS: Please convey my warmest regards to your significant other, 'the little intestine.' Ironically, though I've known you long (all my life), I've known her five or six times longer. I sincerely hope she is fully over her recent bout of Crohn's. Such is my regard that, whenever either of you is stricken low with the least intestinal malady, I suffer the torments of hell along with you. PPS: I trust you found the colon following the greeting to your satisfaction. I briefly thought to follow it with a comma, but _you'll_ be relieved to know that this was merely a pausing fancy. I _never_ thought to follow it with a dash, feeling it best to reserve this Rx for such times as I may be suffering loose vowels."

**A colon should separate a Bible chapter from a verse**

****

** **

****

**_Cologne Ranger_** _(often misidentified as Moses) parting the Read Sea, those chapters and verses of the Bible his parents had suffered him to read over and over again when young._

"O God, _ye have troubled me to make me stink among the inhabitants of the land_ (Genesis 34:30). _See, the smell of my son is as the smell of a field which the Lord hath curst_ (Genesis 27:27). Yet I smell a rat, for Isaac said, _. . . a field which the Lord hath blessed_ (ib:id). Then Isaiah took in my savor: _And it shall come to pass, that instead of sweet smell there shall be stink_ (Isaiah 3:24). Then Joel prophesyeth, _His stink shall come up, and his ill savor shall come up, because he hath done Brut things_ (Joel 2:20). . . ."
**  
**

122. He Parted Verse from Chapter, Made a Stink

Cologne "Logne" Ranger, when but a young child,

Made quite a range of stink, one much reviled

By those in close range (wishing him _alone_ )

For his precocious wearing of cologne:

"It _stinks_ that I should have to read the Bible,

Else my damned soul _ever_ be held liable.

_You_ know how averse I am to it;

How much I loathe it when you make me sit

And read its every goodly verse—and chapter."

"Save your soul, son! _Read_. No book is apter."

All grown up, Cologne ranged far and wide

In stink, and _all_ in range his stink decried:

"You separate—make stink between—each verse

And Bible chapter, leaving us to curse

And cry with your folks, ' _Read_ , Cologne, your Bible,

Lest God make di _stink_ tion—hold you liable.

Part the two not so; be an adapter—"

"I'm _averse_ to reading verse and chapter.

**A Cologne _should_ separate** [a worse

Stink rose] **a Bible chapter from averse** _._ "

Whereupon the Cologne Ranger made him a great stink: "O God, _ye have troubled me to make me stink among the inhabitants of the land_ (Genesis 34:30). Wherefore do I suffer a blow unto my vanity. _Vanity of vanities, saith the preacher . . . all is vanity_ (Ecclesiastes 1:2). I ask for a little guidance in life, and, lo, they give me chapter and verse, _the song of songs, which is Solomon's_ (Song of Solomon 1:1), saying, _See, the smell of my son is as the smell of a field which the Lord hath curst_ (Genesis 27:27). Wherefore do I smell a proverbial rat that lives in the land of Proverbs, for that I know my Bible (have they not suffered me to read it?), and Isaac said, _. . . a field which the Lord hath blessed_ (ib:id). Then Isaiah, a visiting prophet, rose up and took in my savor and went against me, the Cologne Ranger, prophesying, _And it shall come to pass, that instead of sweet smell there shall be stink_ (Isaiah 3:24). Then up rose Joel, another false prophet, and he prophesyeth, _[A]nd his stink shall come up, and his ill savor shall come up, because he hath done Brut things_ (Joel 2:20). Lo, I smelled of the rat anew for your Good Book is before me in my head, and Joel said, _. . . because he has done great things_ (ib:id). Then arose your only begotten Son, Jesus, whose savor is sweetness personified, who rose up and spake, _Blasted are ye, when men shall hate you, and when they shall separate you from their company, and shall reproach you, and cast out your name_ (Luke 6:22). 'Christ!' I wept, and held my arms out toward him; but he shrank back and spake, _[A]nd he shall separate them one from another, as a shepherd divideth his sheep from the goats_ (Matthew 25:32). To which the apostle Paul saw fit to add, for that I had sowed my cologne about mineself so prodigally, _for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reek_ (Galatians 6:7) . . ."

**A colon should separate the title of a work from its subtitle**

****

** **

****

**_Lon Chaney_** ** __**_in all but 992 of his faces of horror._

" **Man of a Thousand Faces** , I hold title to them _all_. Yet my double, co-Lon Chaney, is claiming subtitle to _five hundred_ of them—and trying to separate me from my legal title to them, the co-Lon jerk—even though __ I made up all of them myself! But I might as well face it: as good as I am at makeup, I can't hope to apply it like the make-up artistry I so often find in autobiographies. That's a level of creative genius so far beyond mine I pale in comparison, which is terrific when I'm playing a ghost or someone with anemia . . ."
**  
**

123. His Double Parts Subtitles from _Lon's_ Titles

"Man of a Thousand Faces" star Lon Chaney,

In one hundred-plus films, silent, grainy,

With a mummer's skill and made-up features,

Fashioned many mummerable creatures:

Phantom, hunchback, vampire, gangster—more or

Less the gamut of the face of horror.

Chaney claimed in time, the more he made

Us, by each face "put on," the more afraid

For all his many makeups and _grim_ aces,

Title (earned): "Man of a Thousand Faces."

Like most actors, Chaney had a double,

Source of all his star face-making trouble.

"Fair is fair in the face-making line:

Five hundred of those faces should be _mine_ ,"

Lon's double claimed—then just as doubly bold,

Claimed _he_ , subtitle to each one, should hold.

_"Five hundred_ — _stolen_ from me—no-good hood!

The _horror!"_ Lon cried, "that **A co-Lon should**

—Thief!— **separate subtitle of a work**

— _Mine_ — **from its title**. What a co-Lon jerk!"

"I might as well face it," Chaney said to his mirror double in applying his makeup, "I'm just going to have to write my autobiography and set the record straight. Yet as much as I am second to none in the makeup department, I can't hope to apply it with anything like the make-up artistry I so often encounter in autobiographies. That is a level of creative genius so far beyond mine that I pale in comparison, which is terrific when I'm playing the role of a ghost or someone with pernicious anemia, but otherwise leaves me feeling horribly inadequate, which is wonderful if I'm starring in a horror fil—oh, let's face it; I'm just not _that_ creative. I'm just going to have to make up my mind—but I'm forgetting myself: I already _have_ made up my mind to write _The Man of a Thousand Faces: And I Made Every Last One of Them Myself Too!_" He was as good as his non-word. Upon its keep-mum-and-don't-talk-it-up release (it _was_ the Silent Era), Chaney silently made the rounds of the no-talk shows, having previously made up his mind about the wisdom of not talking. "You _see_!" his double as silently cried. "Chaney doesn't deny—in so _many_ unspoken words—that I, his double, made up every one of those thousand faces _' Myself' _—though I'm willing to settle out of court for five hundred, the subtitle of every title in my name. But should it go to court . . . well, you can be sure I'll have my grimmest face on. Meanwhile, I, Lon Chaney's double, intend to double my efforts in preparing myself __ for my role in the film version of my double-revealing tell-all, _The Man of a Thousand Faces: And I, Co-Lon Chaney, Made Every Last One of Them Myself II!_" His story and his story records that Lon and Co-Lon faced off in uncivil court—and with so much lay-it-on-thick make-up on both sides that, ironically, neither of the _Too/II_ ever made up.

**Use a colon to set off a quotation that supports the preceding clause**

****

** **

****

_A coal miner's daughter from Butcher Holler, Kentucky,_ ** _Loretta Lynn_** _successfully charms her way to a Nashville recording contract._

"I guess you re-cord boys heard me singin' my li'l ol' heart out in the commencin' line **:** 'Well I was born a coal miner's daughter,' and how I was waxin' more lyrical in the next **:** 'In a cabin on a hill in Butcher Holler.' And I guess y'all noticed how this coal Lynn was _twice_ takin' due care to use me a co-lon to set off the quoted lyrics. Now here's a line from my next No. 1 'hit' this re-cord gal and coal miner's doll are of two minds to be settin' off with a co-lon, and I reckon you re-cord boys know what a co-lon is **:**. . ."
**  
**

124. She Set Off Her Quotations with a Colon

Loretta Lynn, a poor coal miner's daughter,

Hitched at thirteen (she plum felt she oughter),

Had four kids—by ripe age of eighteen!

Some young start for a future country queen.

A decade as a sing-the-blues poor housewife

Taught her "It's a damned full-time poorhouse life!"

From small honky-tonks in Low-on-Cashville,

Washington, she sang her way to Nashville.

"Boys, how 'bout a re-cord deal?" in twang

That Butcher Holler, Ken-tuck-born gal sang.

Them boys got out their contract made for hayseeds

Ceding _them_ the royalties, the payceeds.

"Boys, y'all must've thought you heard me say

That li'l ol' me was born in _Yesterday_.

Well I'd like y'all to meet a little quote

That plum supports this clause I just prewrote

That cedes _me_ royalties to suit my station **:**

' **Use a coal Lynn to set off quotation**

**That supports** —like _men_ , __ not small boys— **the**

**Pre-ceding clause**.' __ This Queen's all _royalty_.

__

"I guess you re-cord boys weren't payin' due attentions to the lyrics this here wanna-be- _gonna_ -be-a-No. 1 re-cord gal was just singin' for you in a couple of minutes, which I was payin' my dues for nigh on three de-cades to write. Say, y'all aren't De-cade Re-cords, are you? Anyways, if you had been you'd've heard me singin' my li'l ol' heart out in the commencin' line **:** 'Well I was born a coal miner's daughter,' and how I was waxin' more lyrical in the next **:** 'In a cabin on a hill in Butcher Holler.' And I guess if y'all weren't payin' your dues to the lyrics I was waxin'—you _are_ the boys that're puttin' lyrics on wax, aren't you?—y'all didn't notice how this coal Lynn was _twice_ takin' due care to use me a co-lon to set off the quoted lyrics that so gen'rously support their precedin' clauses, which lyrics, soon as they're down on wax, are gonna be magunanimously supportin' _me_. __ That there co-lon ( **:** ), which looks like two teeny black lumps of coal, one on top of the other, don't it? is a little thing my Daddy, who knew more'n a thing or two about coalin', taught me. Now, judgin' by the dollar signs in your eyes, I reckon what you boys heard me singin' was this **:** 'Well I was born a coal miner's _dollar_ ,' the theme you re-cord boys are a-tuned to in every lyric, so your ears perked up and rightly heard me singin' this **:** 'He shoveled coal to make a poor man's _dollar_.' But I don't reckon you heard me waxin' my most lyrical **:** 'My Daddy worked all night in the Van Lear coal mine / All day long in the field a-hoein' corn.' Now here's a line from my next No. 1 'hit' this re-cord gal and coal miner's doll are of two minds to be settin' off with a co-lon, and I reckon you re-cord boys know what a co-lon is **:** 'My Daddy, who is no boy but a _man_ , can wax your bu—' but now I reckon you re-cord boys already got _that_ ol' No. 1 hit down on whacks plenty."

**Conjoin two independent clauses with a colon if the second clause amplifies the first**

****

** **

****

**_Papa and Mama Claus_** _are "blessed" with conjoined twins, two independent Clauses joined at the colon, the second of which amplifies the first._

"Well, the worst has come: _God has conjoined the twins._ And as woeful as that is, it reminds me: _I was once a carefree independent Claus._ Then I met her: _she was an 'in'-dependent 'Mama' Claus-to-be._ Yes, it all comes tumbling back to me now: _she, being in the vicinity of the North Pole, in her child-bearing years, in search of, and in need of, a man, in demand as the only woman around, was wholly dependent on me, the only man a-round, for womanly fulfillment._ God, now comes the deluge: _I had thought to . . ._ "
**  
**

125. The Second Clause—Woe!—Amplified the First

The Clauses, through their long, cold pregnant pause,

Both hung upon birth of a little Claus

To light up their six-months-of-darkness dole

And warm their long cold nights at the North Pole

And cheer their hearts and—joy that most uplifts—

Be helping soon to wrap the Christmas gifts.

They'd prayed for their small gift, been good all year,

And, more than they dared dream would so appear,

Appeared—as pure, as white as Arctic swirl:

A little boy Claus— _and_ a little girl!

But—oh! alas!—their parent joy was stolen

( _Grief!_ ): attached, the Claus twins—at the colon.

Mama, Papa, now so infant rife,

Saw two _conjoined_ twins hanging on to life.

The boy Claus blew aloud; then, louder still,

The girl Claus amplified his wind to _shrill_.

The lesson Mama, Papa learned, the pith?

**Conjoin two windy-pendent Clauses with**

**A colon when** ( _Ai!_ newborn winds outburst)

**The second Claus** ( _WAH-H-H-H!_ ) **amplifies the first** _._

__

"Well, the worst has come: _God has conjoined the twins._ And as woeful as that is, it reminds me: _I, 'Papa' (how strange that sounds), was once a carefree independent Claus._ Then I met her: _she was a Whoa!fully 'in'-dependent 'Mama' Claus-to-be._ Yes, it all comes tumbling back to me now: _she, being in the vicinity of the North Pole, in her child-bearing years, in search of, and in need of, a man, in demand as the only woman around, was wholly dependent on me, the only man a-round, for womanly fulfillment._ But there's more: _I, in bachelorhood, in the thick of the Christmas season, in every child's mind, in a ridiculous red, fur-lined suit, was desperately in need of dependable helpmates._ And now comes the flood: _being both 'in'-dependent (in each other's company, in six months of darkness no less, in love), it was inevitable that we two indigents should be conjoined._ So, naturally, being the first Claus (at least in _my_ mind), I thought to take care of No. 1 by proposing: _'Since I've such a heavyweight bout of boxing to do, how about being my second for the season?'_ God, now comes the deluge: _I had thought to sweeten my job proposal by offering to throw another coal on the fire._ She (playing along with being the second Claus) then amplified my first clause: _'You are proposing to me—that I be your Claus second—for the see-son?'_ She then amped up the volume in her second clause way _way_ beyond ample: _**'Joy! I am the second Claus!'**_ Then she added: _**' Thank you, God of Mercy!'**_ **_God!_** is right. The Father ( _Christmas!_ ) of conjoined twins (more than ample), the one more WAH!ful than the next, it comes back to me now, that coaled day in December: _how, in that most Whoa!ful of seasons, two 'in'-dependent Clauses (one a lot more windy than is the other) were joined with a coal on when the second Claus amplified the first_."

**Place a colon right behind an independent clause to introduce illustrative quotation**

****

** **

****

_Peanut farmer turned president_ ** _Jimmy Carter_** _sits for his official presidential portrait, which graphically introduces a truly illustrative quotation: "The grinning nut."_

"Seen as a peanut-brained come-from-behind dummy, I was elected POTUS, Peanut-brain of These United States. So I sat me down on a sackful of goobers to analyze just where I'd gone wrong, starting with winning the goobernatorial election. Cracking a different nut case, I contemplated the outcome **:** 'Two small goobers, one atop the other. Lying here in my hand, they look just like a colon. First Nut that I am, I used one in _Playboy_ right before my ill-lusting quote, and I quote **:** "I have lusted in my heart" ' . . ."
**  
**

126. He Introduced Illustrative Quotation

_Time_ quotes the POTUS-hopeful Jimmy Carter:

"I'll now _prove_ I'm not one of your smarter

Peanut-farming, down-home folksy hayboys:

I gave one frank interview to _Playboy's_

Hef, confessing (that's how Carter-smart

I'm not), quote: **** 'I have lusted in my heart.'

And on such lusting Jesus didn't soften,

Quote: _Whoever's looked on_ [as I've often]

_Woman in his heart with lusting, he_

_Already hath done dirt: adultery._

"Opponents seized upon, as if my throat,

My candid ill-confessed, ill-'lusted' quote.

They then placed their own independent clause

Before it—to serve their 'dumb Jimmy' cause:

' _Ill-lusting_ hopeful Jimmy said, quote: "I

Have lusted in my heart," yet heaved no sigh

His quote came "right" behind his colon, blind

To see: to **Place a colon right behind**

**An independent clause to introduce**

**Ill-lustrative quotation** is _ill_ use.'

" _Behind._ Yes, after I said—in _Playboy_ —'I have lusted in my heart,' I was seen to be such a peanut-brained, come-from-behind dummy that I was elected POTUS, Peanut-brain of these United States. So I sat me down on a sackful of goobers to analyze just where I'd gone wrong, starting with winning the goobernatorial election of Georgia. I cracked a different nut case and contemplated the outcome: ' _Two_ small goobers, one atop the other. Lying here in my hand, they look just like a colon. Like a nut, I used one in _Playboy_ right before my ill-lusting quote. Ill-liberal, this naturally made me a lot more wiser, which is a double comparison, like comparing two goobers to a colon. I used that colon to introduce 'I have lusted in my heart,' which my opponents seized upon, like the jackals they are, charging how it was such an ill- _lust_ rative quotation and all. I'd used a colon just like it to introduce Jesus' _Whoever's looked on woman . . ._ quotation—which they accused me of misquoting. Okay, I didn't get it word for word. What Jesus actually said, to illustrate a point, was—here, I have it Good Book marked in my trusty pocket Bible, Matthew 5:28: _But I say unto you, That whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart._ Okay, I paraphrased it a little, but at least I was enough of a stickler to introduce it with a colon _right_ behind my independent clause, for which Rosalynn said, and I quote: 'You do good and righteous quotational work, Goober —or should I say, _Dummy_.' And I said, 'That's because, my dear FLOTUS, First Lauder of the United States, I'm enough of a self-righteous do-goober to advocate a perfect world in which _all_ do such righteously good quotational work as I, QUOTUS, Quoting Utopian of the United States, an office for which I have this to confess: 'I have lusted in my heart.' "

**Use a colon after an introductory statement to show that something is to follow**

****

** **

****

**_Co-Redgrave sisters Vanessa and Lynn_** _co-longing for Co-best . . . Oscar gold._

"Lynn, we co-acted to the best of our co-abilities, and this is what it co-got us **:** Best Humiliating Co- _defeat_. So, come next stinking awards night, we co-longing for Best Co-actress, will co-use our co-long after an introductory statement alerting all that something is to _follow_ **:** Best Co-use of a Co-long in—" "Oh, but Vanessa, _must_ we co-use our co-long—in front of _millions_ of p—" "Look, do you want to co-win an Oscar, or don't you?" "Y-Yes . . . but . . . but—" " _Exactly!_ Best Co-use of One in an Oscar Ceremony . . ."
**  
**

127. The Two Co-show That Something is to Follow

Co-Redgrave sister/stars, Vanessa, Lynn,

Co-joyous when co-nominated in

Year 1966 for Oscars (Best

Co-actress) were co-longing for the blest

Award, the younger Lynn for "Georgy Girl,"

Vanessa ( _please!_ ) for "Morgan"—such a whirl

Of sisterly emotions at the thought:

"If one co- wins—the other co- will _not_."

Each twenty-something held out breathless hope

Come Oscar night: ". . . and now the envelope . . .

"The winner is [more breathlessness] . . . _Liz Taylor!_

_'Whose Afraid of Virginia Woolf?'_ " A failer

Each Redgrave; but yet they should have known:

Co-nominee Vanessa's name _alone_

Had been invoked before the introduction

(Lynn's came after). Both knew ("Oscar _suction_!")

Host Bob Hope would follow the rule **Use**

**A co-Lynn _after_** ("Hope? It's ours to lose!")

**An introducing statement to show something**

**Is to fall low** [Redgraves, flat; a bum thing].

Vanessa and Lynn, unable to co-put on their "Best" faces any longer, knew that one thing must follow **:** a good co-lachrymation. Co-putting their co-loser faces in their pillows, when the long and bitter nightlong deluge was over, and their pillows were co-drenched with tears and co-smeared with makeup, they had a co-epiphany **:** it co-dawned on them that it would have been ever so much easier and simpler, though far less melodramatic, to have simply had a good co-cry. "Oh, _Lynn_ ," Vanessa theatrically emoted, pouring on the histrionics in high anticipation of the next awards ceremony, "after all our co-acting out, it's come down, like our tears and mascaras, to this **:** a temporary co-lack of tears, which we must co-suffer ourselves, with the aid of artificial tears, to co-act out and on down our cheeks so we'll be certain to be co-nominated for one thing **:** Best Co—" "actress— _yes!_ " " _NO_ , to _hell_ with that miserable, stinking co-kamamie award! We co-acted to the best of our co-abilities, and this is what it co-got us **:** Best Humiliating Co- _defeat_. We didn't even win what would have been some consolation **:** Best Co-runners-up. And the reason is this **:** we could only get our tears to co-run _down_ our cheeks. So, come next stinking Awards Night, we co-Redgrave sisters, each of us co-longing for a 'Best . . .' Oscar, will co-use our co-long after an introductory statement alerting all that something is to _follow_ **:** Best Co-use of a Co-long in—" "Oh, but Vanessa, _must_ we co-use our co-long—in front of _millions_ of people—to show that something is to follo—" "Look, do you want to co-win an Oscar, or don't you?" "Y-Yes . . . but . . . but—" "Exactly! Best Co-use of One in an Oscar Cerem—" "Oh, but . . . but, Vanessa, what _co-ordinated **bad**_ _reviews_ will follow?" "Let us co-hope, Lynn, but one **:** 'The Redgrave Sisters couldn't possibly co-fall lower!' "

**Use a colon when a sentence contains a "question/answer" that's implied**

****

** **

****

**_Kato Kolon, Marcia Clark_** ** __**_during "The Trial of the Century." In all his life poor Kato had never before been subjected to such a gruelling trial (answering a simple question)._

"If I was the 'World's Most Famous Houseguest,' I'd've known the three loud thumps Simp made returning from the scene of the triple homicide, hitting the side of his home three times, were the 'real killer's." "Objection! Are you always in such a terrible mood, Mr. Kolon?" "Hunh?" "I mean are you always in the _indicative_ mood, as when you testified, 'If I was the "World's Most . . . ", ' instead of being, since you were expressing a situation contrary to fact, in the _subjunctive_ mood **:** 'If I were . . .'?" _"Hunh?!"_ . . .
**  
**

128. A Colon for Implying Question/Answer

The "World's Most Famous Houseguest" Kato Kolon

(Marcia Clark had put the clownish droll on

Witness stand), in his buffoonish style,

Went on . . . and on . . . to punctuate the trial

Of Oreo James Simpson—duly swore

He'd heard _three_ thumps upon the wall, no more,

Upon the night in question when a flood

Of ex Nicole's and his, Ron Goldman's, blood

Had flowed out on South Bundy, and the gore

Led back to Rockingham . . . and Simpson's door.

"The question is," Ms. Clark framed in a sentence

("She's implying," Kato, who was then tense

Thought, "an _answer_ "), "could those three loud thumps

Have been made by a _killer's_ bumbling bumps?

Might the defendant _not_ have, as he said,

Been sleeping, but returning—from _the dead_

—With _blood_ upon his Bruno Magli shoes?

_Well?_ " Kato knew Ms. Clark had learned to **Use**

**A Kolon when a sentence** [blood long dried]

**Contains a question/ _answer_ that's implied**.

Elated that he finally knew the answer to one of Ms. Clark's questions, Kato gave it in typically buffoonish manner **:** "How should I know? I was only a B-grade actor then. But I just know if I was the 'World's Most Famous Houseguest,' I'd've known the three loud thumps Simp made returning from the scene of the triple homicide, hitting the side of his home three times, with blood on his Ruin O'Maglis, were the 'real killer's." "Objection!" Ms. Clark retorted. "Are you always in such a terrible mood, Mr. Kolon?" "Hunh?" Kato answered, stupefied, yet pleased with himself that he had, by answering another question with a question, settled the question in everyone's mind **:** Does Kato have Jewish blood in his veins? "Allow me to take a blank page from your playbook, Mr. Kolon, and answer a question with a question **:** Are you always in the _indicative_ mood, as you were when you so testified, '. . . if I was the "World's Most Famous Houseguest," . . .' instead of being, since you were expressing a situation contrary to fact, in the _subjunctive_ mood **:** '. . . if I were . . .'?" _"Hunh?!"_ "Let me ask another **:** If, in a subjunctive mood, I were to say to you, 'Only one Kolon heard the three thumps the murderer "Simp" made **:** Kato Kolon,' would I have used a Kolon in that sentence to imply a question/answer (Question **:** What Kolon? Answer **:** Kato Kolon)?" "Uh, yeah." "If I were to put _this_ sentence to you, again using a colon, 'There is only one conclusion we can come to in this hypothetical case **:** that's implied,' does that not also imply a question/answer (Question **:** What conclusion? Answer **:** That's implied)? Would you agree, Mr. Kolon, that's implied?" "Uh, yeah." "Yeah what" "Yeah, that Simp lied." " _Thank you_ , Mr. Kolon. ( _YES!_ ) __ No more questions, Your Honorito. The prosecution, being in an extraordinarily _good_ mood, rests its case."

21. End Stops

_Imagine believing in the control of inflation by curbing the money supply! That is like deciding to stop your dog fouling the sidewalk by plugging up its rear end. It is highly unlikely to succeed, but if it does it kills the hound_.

—Michael D. Stephens

_"Begin at the beginning," the king said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop."_

—Lewis Carroll

**My Child, But Tell Me How You Wish to End**

"Whoever, in me, spiritually delves

Soon finds me in a class all by myselves;

Is awed to view me, in my multitude, a

Punctuational three-headed Buddha.

I look on each with three pairs of eyes

And let all choose which pair to idolize

—But, oh, not when they're madly living life

Hellbent for leather, full of living's strife,

But only (they've a lifetime to head shop)

When all, at last, come to a full end stop.

"My worshippers know then they can depend

I'll give them choice: 'Pray, now you've reached the end,

Say _how_ you wish to end your earthly sentence;

Choose the proper ending to be sent hence.'

'I declare, "Oh, well." at life's abatement,

And a period best ends my statement.'

'I but question, "Buddha, why _now—me_?"

A question mark best ends my inquiry.'

'I cry, "My life is _ended_ with one bloody

Dead _-_ end exclamation mark. __ Thanks— _Buddhy!_ " ' "

Oh, my little endearlings! How would you, as they do in the Far East, like to come face to _three_ faces with a three-headed God like End Stops when you meet your end? What, you wouldn't? Well, I shouldn't wonder! It's enough to give any learnnik pause—but one small step away from a full end stop, and make you, you _—_ and _you_ —quake in your little boots. But not to worry, my wee-faced ones. Living here in the West, you don't have to worry—if you _learn_. But if you _don't_ learn, you are going to come to a very tragic end: face to three long faces with a mightily displeased three-personed God—the Father, the Son—and the Holy _Ghost_! But long before that you are going to come face to face with the disappointed face, the even more disappointed face, and finally, in the bitter end, the most disappointed __ face of a virtual Goddess. Yes, _Goddess_. Why are you all looking at me like that with your wee little faces? Anyone would think you'd seen a ghost, if not three. Well never mind that; we'll linger no more here upon your shaky spiritual end, for it would be infinitely better for you, you—and _you_ — _before it's too late_ , to be dwelling upon

**The Novel Rules of End Stops**

**Bodhidharma, Fooy Tu Yu**

Do not overuse end stops

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Periods**

**Clara Bow**

Use a period at the end of a declarative sentence

**King Tut**

Use a period after most abbreviations

**Desi Arnaz, Lucille Ball**

Use a period before a decimal to separate dollars and cents

**Vishnu, Shiva, Brahma**

Use three spaced periods (an ellipsis) to indicate an intentional omission

**Question Marks**

**F. Lie Bailey, Mark Fuhrman, Judge Lance Ito**

Use a question mark at the end of every direct question

**Whynonah Ryder, Mark Geragos**

Use question marks to indicate a series of queries in the same sentence

**Johnny Chung**

Do not terminate an indirect question with a question mark

**Simon Phraser, Smelling Flour[?]**

Use a question mark after a word, phrase, or date whose accuracy is in question

**James What, Howie Plunder-Howe**

Use either a question mark or exclamation mark with _what_ and _how_ depending on whether they are interrogatory or exclamatory

**Exclamation Marks**

**Werewolfman Jack**

Use the exclamation point to end a forceful interjection

**Mark Twain, God**

It is sometimes appropriate to end a rhetorical question with an exclamation mark rather than a question mark

**Franchot Tone**

Use an exclamation mark to show the tone is other than the words themselves convey

**Pope Innocent XII, Sister Immarkulate**

To not use an exclamation mark when one is called for is just as wrong as using one when none is called for
**  
**

**Abbreviations**

**Napoleon**

Use a period after most abbreviations

**Do not overuse end stops**

****

** **

****

_Indian Zen Buddhist_ ** _Bodhidharma_** _introduces Chinese Emperor Fooy Tu Yu to Zen Bhuddhism._

"Fooy Tu Yu. What a trip! _Long?_ Let me tell you. Phew! I'm bushed. Out of juise(?). "Look, Bloodykarma—" "Bodhidharma." "When you're in India you can use as many end stops as you bloody well like: falsely put periods after theme titles and sentence fragments; place question marks in parentheses to express doubt; put exclamation marks after everything so that _nothing_ has emotional meaning. But here in China we have a finite supply. And you're rapidly depleting us of—" "Periods. Exclamation marks! . . ."
**  
**

129. He Taught Him to Not Overuse End Stops

In late-A.D. 400s Bodhidharma,

Thinking to amass some goodly karma,

Left for China, east, from India

To teach the heathens and their Grand Pooh-Bah:

_"Zen meditation is the right and meant_

_One -only way to pure enlightenment._

I often practice all I preach of Zen

By stopping to sate meditative yen.

End? Reach, by periods of calm reflection,

Question/exclamation marks—perfection!

"Stopped, one sees each Zenned-out period

Is _one_ means to an end—of myriad;

Or meditative _end_ , each, to a means:

The threefold path that ends what one convenes.

I've stopped so much to Zen it I'm bereft

Of _three years_ —gone! _f-f-f-ft!_ —from the day I left.

I'm all done in. Pooped. Fagged. Lord! Man! A _doubt?_

About it? _Me?_ No way! I'm burned. Zenned out.

But I've achieved, by meditative plops,

Enlightenment: **Don't overuse Zenned stops**."

"What a trip! _Long?_ Let me tell you. Phew! I'm bushed. Out of juise(?). Fagged. Done in. Tuckered. A wreck. Dead beat. Whipped. Licked. Bone-weary. Dog-tired. _Cooked!_ How cooked? Let me tell—" "No! No!" Grand Pooh-Bah Fooy Tu Yu interjected, "I—I think I get what you were saying: _Don't overuse end stops._ " "Yes! Spot on! I'm some teacher. Aren't I?" "You sure as hell are, Bodhi . . . Bodhi . . ." "dharma. You like it? Stands for staccato. Punchy. Short. And sweet! Can't forget sweet. No. Uh-uh. Wouldn't do. Jesus! Christ I mean. Short life. Real short. How short? Let me te—" "No! _NO!_ For God's sake. Look, Bloodykarma (God knows what I ever did to deserve you), I thought you said you practice what you preach." "Well, Fooy Tu Yu, I do. All the time. And twice on Sundays. Do you have Sundays here? In China? This _is_ China—isn't it? It is? No bull? Thank God! That's a relief. A huge one! I thought I'd turned left. At Tibet, I mean. Not right. Ended up in a commanist country. Enough to give anyone pause." "Look here, Bloodykarma—" "Bodhidharma." " _Whatever_. When you're back home in India you can bloody well use as many end stops as you like: falsely put periods after theme titles and sentence fragments; place question marks in parentheses to express doubt; put exclamation marks after every damned thing so that _nothing_ has emotional meaning. But here in the People's Republic of Comma—I mean _China_ —we have a finite (end) supply. And you're rapidly depleting us of—" "Periods. Exclamation marks! Question marks?" " _YES!"_ "I thought so. Pity. I know. When they're gone. They're gone. No more! Zip! Nada! Zilch! Zot! Diddly-squat! Bupkes!" "Will you _stop_ that?!" What? This? What I'm doing? Overusing end stops? Me? Sure. Whatever. No _problem_ , Fooy Tu Yu! Grouch! _How_ grouchy? Let me tell you . . ."

22. Periods

_To give an accurate and exhaustive account of that period would need a far less brilliant pen than mine._

—Max Beerbohm

****

**_Year_** _, n. A period of three hundred and sixty-five disappointments._

—Ambrose Bierce

**At Bottom the _Best_ mark—Yes, Period**

"To make a statement most declarative,

I like to end a sentence (like 'I live.')

With one of me, and use another one

To end abbreviation when it's done

With leaving letters off its big back end;

More, I, to end command, _love_ to append

Another one of me, and then select

To likewise end each question indirect

With yet one more, but—blest redundancy!

What I love most is using _three_ of me!

"Yes, that is what I love the most, no doubt:

When someone leaves some precious something out,

And I get to use _three_ —a myriad

Ellipsis tri o' me: a period.

Well, yes, it's true I'll stoop to use a colon,

Question/exclamation mark (those _swollen_

Marks!) from time to time, but then, you see?

At bottom of each one (:?!)—there's one of _me_ ;

Plus in between your dollars, cents I spend

My time when I'm not just the living _end_."

_Oh-h_ no! You're not going to get me to do _that_ again: Right from Day One, which was the commencement, I've done nothing but spend myself, and I'm not now going to expend myself—solely for your _periodically_ attentive benefit. If you think I'm going to enter into a period of explanation resulting in an explanation of period, well, you've got another think coming. _That_ period, I'm happy to say, is over—for good! What? _What period is that?_ The period I just mentioned; the period that's over _for good_. Weren't you paying attention? Yes, in years past, I was accustomed to using this period to discuss the many—what? _The period that's over for good?_ No, weren't you listening? I meant _this_ period, during which I had started to tell you all about _that_ period, the period that's over for good since, though there are many different periods, we are concerned here only with _punctuational_ periods, such as three spaced-out periods used to form an ellipsis—or represent _daydreaming_. Have I made my three points? Fine. Here's another: three on a match is bad luck, but three in an ellipsis is just good punctuating. But, as I said, _I_ won't be discussing one of them, such as the ones that end

**Simple Statements:** I'm sure glad _I_ won't be discussing periods. I've hired celebrity novelists for that. I've paid them a king's ransom too. It doesn't make sense for me to discuss them. I've already paid them for that. Besides, periods are small. They're too insignificant for _me_ to bother discussing them. Also, they are round. And most of the time they're black. And they end all sentences that are not questions or exclamations. They're the first ones I won't be talking about.

**Commands:** Be sure to remind me not to discuss periods. Make it a point to tell me not to. Whenever I relapse, shout out, _"Don't discuss periods."_ Do it without fail. Don't do it—and fail. Tell me to my face. Don't just sit there like a bump on a log. _Speak up_.

**Indirect Questions:** I know you're wondering if I am getting just a trifle addleheaded. The doctor asked me if I knew what Alzheimer's disease is. I said no, and asked him what one he's got. Then I asked him if what's-his-name has had whatchamacallit for a short or a long period.

**Abbr.:** Whether a contr., short., abridg., **** etc., **** I won't be discussing one of them—per.

**Money:** $11.05, $14.92, $99.99—yes, that's right, Dottie, the __ period always comes in the _middle_ of money, not at its end. But appearances can be deceiving. Anyone who's ever _had_ a money period knows only too well that that period always comes to an end. That's at the heartache of it.

**Ellipsis:** . . . and I explained that three spaced periods coming at the beginning . . . end . . . middle of a quotation, or whose use is meant to represent a one-sided conversation or a trailing off of speech (a rolling stop), is a dead giveaway that something is . . .

Oh, _here_ they . . .

**The Novel Rules of Periods**

**Clara Bow**

Use a period at the end of a declarative sentence

**King Tut**

Use a period after most abbreviations

**Desi Arnaz, Lucille Ball**

Use a period before a decimal to separate dollars and cents

**Vishnu, Shiva, Brahma**

Use three spaced periods (an ellipsis) to indicate an intentional omission

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Abbreviations**

**Napoleon**

Use a period after most abbreviations

**Use a period at the end of a declarative sentence**

****

** **

****

_Roaring Twenties "It" Girl_ ** _Clara Bow_** _in her flame-haired flapper period._

"Woe is unto me— _period_. Once more I have taken pains to end my latest de-Clarative sentence, as usual, not with one period, as some poor girl who is not me, and has merely been jilted, would do, but with _two_ periods: an end stop and an endless period of depression. In a third period of reflection, I see that always it is I, Clara Bow, who ends up being the terminal mark, period. A lass and a lack of beau is me. It's all so declaratively depressing that I think to put an end to it all, period. But then I think . . ."
**  
**

130. Declarative End: One Blue Period

Young Clara Bow, vamp, roaring twenties "It" Girl,

Flame-haired flapper, teen-star mega-hit girl,

Came across so sirenly each silent,

Each filmgoing wannabeau his eye leant

Her seductive image full attention;

Fantasighed her his sole love-invention.

Since it was the silent-film-star era,

Live-up-to-her-on-screen-image Clara

Played this reel-to-life scenario

Out, played at love with not _one_ sigh-leant beau.

But playing in real life's impassioned throes,

Woe! Clara came to find beaus will be beaus.

(Weep!) Sooner more than later every beau-star

Bowed out, "Had my fun; I've gotta blow, star."

(Sob!) each beau, by sentence of love-endence

("Bye!") de-Claraed his love- _independence_ ,

Sentencing the "It" Girl to the blues,

And teaching poor Miss Bow, beau-ditched, to **Use**

**A period** [depression, beau-repentance]

**To end a de-Clarative** tears] [**sentence**.

Once again Clara declared, "Woe is unto me— _period_. Once more I have taken pains to end my latest de-Clarative sentence, as usual, not with one period, as some poor girl who is not me, and has merely been jilted, would do, but with _two_ periods: an end stop and an endless period of depression. In a third period of reflection, I see that always it is I, Clara Bow, who ends up being the terminal mark, period. A lass and a lack of beau is me. It's all so declaratively depressing that I think to put an end to it all, period. __ But then I think, exclaiming myself so woefully, should I not, brought to such an emotionally de-Clarative end, have ended it all, not with my usual **black period** , but with an emphatic _exclamation_ mark? Oh, but then I'd be ending it all with a terminal _question_ mark, as well as being a badly used period _mark_. Yet poor England is suffering as black a period. No, _two_ periods: her colonial period; and her period of decolonization in which Scotland left her for the North; Rome for the south of France; Ireland and Wales for the West; and Holland for the East. One by one all of her 'wild colonial beaus' left her to beauldly, declaratively assert their independence, leaving her, in the end, but 'England,' all that's left of her once-proud colonial period that was the Beautish Empire; leaving her to cry out heartbrokenly in the black of night, 'O _Beauhamas, Beaubados, Beausutoland, Beauchuanaland, Beautish Guiana, Beautish Honduras, Beautish Somaliland_ —get on a beaut and come back to me'. Yes, and that's another thing she's used to: putting her depressing periods _outside_ her quotation marks. Thank God _someone's_ a more badly used terminal mark than I—which is the whole point in life, small as it is, period." And with that the It Girl boarded a slow _boat_ to Italy where she lived out the remainder of it, her small, black de-Clarative period.

**USE A PERIOD AFTER MOST ABBREVIATIONS**

****

** **

****

_Archeologists, subjecting_ ** _King Tut_** _'s Death Mask to a TUT Scan, discover that the 1300s_ _B.C. was one "wild and crazy period." _

Tut finds himself reincarnated in the hereafter as strictly old-school Tutor, in the _Tut-Tut!_ Dynasty: "At risk of being Tutological, let me repeat Tut's _Tut!_ : _Use a period after most abbreviations._ But why _most_? . . . Polly Math? . . . Phil O'Math? . . . Phil O'Logue? . . . Surely one of you can tell us why we don't use a period after Math(ematics) and Phil(lip). Yet if we chopped all three of your names down to P. Math, P. O'Math, and P. O'Logue, we _would_ use a period. But here's a puzzler: . . ."

****
**  
**

131. A Period Post–Most Abbreviations

King Tut, in his corporeality,

Sought, like all pharaohs, immortality.

"Let _them_ build pyramids, a myriad,

To this end. Slaves, build me a _period_.

That's just the monument to guarantee

My period of immortality,

For I, full of myself, am _Tutankhamen_ ,

'Boy King,' thus have not a lot in common

—None—with men I drive with teenage might:

Slaves, build my Period Immortal—right!"

The day came; his Great Period was done.

But Tut saw—oh!—beneath Egyptian sun,

"No _Endless_ Period—it's one No-End flop!

Fools! you've built me one Great _Mortal_ _End_ Stop!"

Tut dropped on the spot to be "the most"

Dead junior pharaoh to give up the ghost

(Before nineteen), his young life most truncated,

Endless Period abbreviated.

_"Tut Tut, Tut!"_ Tut's given-up ghost grieves

Hard, " **Use a _Period_ post–'most' abbrev.s**."

Tut finds himself reincarnated in the hereafter as strictly old-school Tutor, in the _Tut-Tut!_ Dynasty: "At risk of being Tutological, let me repeat Tut's _Tut!_ : _Use a period after most abbreviations._ But why _most_? . . . Polly Math? . . . Phil O'Math? . . . Phil O'Logue? . . . Surely one of you can tell us why we don't use a period after Math(ematics) and Phil(lip). Yet if we chopped all three of your names down to P. Math, P. O'Math, and P. O'Logue, we _would_ use a period. But here's a puzzler: if we truncated P. O'Math, and P. O'Logue to skimpiest of trunks, initials, would we write P. O. and P. O., or P. O'M. and P. O'L.? Well the answer depends on what _pol_ (no period) happens to be in power for a period. If this pol (a politician minus both head and tail) is a conservative, he'll want to conserve as much as possible, period. But if this pol is a liberal, in which case anything goes, be sure that whatever can go _will_ go—period. Still, one can always tell them apart, these two who are pols apart, with a short handwritten test: a conservative will write _Sr._ , _Jr._ , _B.A._ , _Ph.D._ , _C.I.A._ , _F.B.I._ , _U.S.A._ , _m.p.g._ , _N.A.A.C.P._ ; a liberal will write _Sr_ , _Jr_ , _BA_ , _PhD_ , _CIA_ , _FBI_ , _USA_ , _mpg_ , _NAACP_. 'Boy King' Tut wrote in such hieroglyphics. And because he wanted to see a period of immortality come after his abbreviated reign, Egyptologists conclude he was a conservative. 'Not so!' liberals argue. 'Look! We _never_ see a period come after "Tut"—he's one of _us_. If he weren't, we'd have to say, "Oh, tut-tut, _Tut_." ' 'Ha!—you _see_?' conservatives counter, ' _Tut_ ends with a period! He got his period of _I'm mortality_ in the end—he's one of _us_!' Yes, were Tut with us today he'd Tut-tut the apostrophe and space in _I'm mortality_ , and, having taught you to spell _immortality_ , be so Tut O'Logical as to go on Tutoring you in hieroglyphics to _no end_ (an endless period of hier learning)."

**Use a period before a decimal to separate dollars and cents**

****

** **

****

_Sensitive, caring sweethearts,_ ** _Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball_** _are both legal tender—yet they couldn't be more opposite: he is a swarthy Cuban doll-lure, she an ivory-skinned American doll-lure; and only one has any sense._

"The period before the Desi-Maul (sigh) was a halcyon period. I was young, handsome, talented, I had dollars and sense, and I was blissfully _single_ ; a period when I was seen by each living doll to be a hunky, highly negotiable Cuban doll-lure; one which a doll, if she were dingy, yet had an alluring figure herself (the point of which was to lure a young, good-looking buck just far enough left of the Desi-Maul® to come between his dollars and his sense) might take not only to the bank but to the cleaners. Well, Lucy did . . ."
**  
**

132. Her Dollars and Her Sense, She Split

Musician Desi "Cuban Hunk" Arnaz

Loved playing so that rhythmic Latin jazz,

Such as the conga, rumba, samba, mambo,

Long before he played the married combo;

_Loved_ this single period of life.

But then he met a doll-lure (future strife).

This Lucy said, "Your music-making's sweet,

But don't you want to sweep me off my feet?

And wouldn't you just _love_ to have a Ball,

Me, for a wife—a TV show and all?"

He played along as her "Rick- _eee_ " Ricardo.

_I Love Lucy_ made them "she's-a-star" dough.

Much-loved _Lucy_ soared to TV hitsville.

Then she called it Quitsville, said, "What— _splits_ ville?"

Doll-lure Lucy separated hence

From Desi—left him, period, a sense

She'd _mauled_ him, dollar wise; he hit the booze

Post-split to wish to God he'd known to **Use**

**A period _before_ a Desi-maul**

**To separate from doll-lures _sense_**. [Some Ball!]

"—And before sense written _alone_ ," Desi added brokenly. "And because this has come to me by way of subtraction (from one legal, tender doll-lure), I am 99.0% certain that she, Lucy, got all the dollars, leaving me—the zero—to get the point: the period that comes _before_ the Desi-Maul® is one of singular joy and happiness; the period that comes after it is one of singular depression. The more I try to make sense of it all, the more I see that I'm the dolorously single _left flat broken_ victim of the Desi-Maul System®. Yes, I only have to think of a figure, such as one doll-lure—and _zero_ sense—to know I'm following the Desi-Maul System®, typically represented as $1.0sense. But since the doll-lure has left (the doll-lure is always left of the Desi-Maul®), taking all of the dollars, leaving me but a hungered sense, the System® dictates that I must precede 0sense with a halcyon period, the one before the _I Love Lucy_ period. In contrast with the depressing post-split period, the preceding halcyon period (not part of the Desi-Maul System®) was a blissful period I look back on with no small amount of wistfulness (the _some total!_ of all she left me); a period when I was young, handsome, talented, not without some dollars and sense, and _single_ ; a period when I was seen by each living doll to be a hunky, highly negotiable Cuban doll-lure; one which a doll, if she were dingy, yet had an alluring figure herself (the point of which was to lure a young, good-looking buck just far enough left of the Desi-Maul® to come between his dollars and his sense) might take not only to the bank but to the cleaners. Well, Lucy did, letting every other doll-lure know that "Desi-Maul®, Desi-Maul System® and The System® are registered trademarks of _Lucille Ball Inc.,_ and may not be used by other than the not-so-dingy-after-all registrant, star of _I Love Money_."

**Use three spaced periods to indicate an intentional omission**

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** **

****

_The Hindu Trinity—_ ** _Vishnu, Shiva, Brahma_** _—meditating upon their "Om" mission._

"Shiva, Brahma, I have a no-thought: since we are three, and we'll be meditating upon our Om mission for a spaced-out period, what if we three represent that which we've agreed to leave out (thought) with three spaced-out periods? What do you two nonthink?" " _Brilliant nonthinking_ , __ Vishnu! . . . oh, but wouldn't our every nonthought be _nothing but_ spaced-out periods?" . . . "You're right. Um-m-m-m, I mean Om-m-m-m-m, how about if we three use an _ellipsis_ [. . .] instead?" _"From your ellipsis to gods' ears, Vishnu!" . . ._
**  
**

133. Three Spaced-out Periods for Their Om Mission

Once, Hindu gods three, Vishnu, Shiva, Brahma,

To up meditative melodrama,

Formed an Omni-deity committee

To anoint an Om or Om-like ditty

Each could then intone in meditation,

Be in tune with the All-One vibration.

So the three, in spiritual tether,

Put 'Three Gods R Us' godheads together:

"It, to best vibrate the godhead dome,

Whatever it sounds like, should sound like 'Om.' "

Intent upon their mantra-nointing mission,

All three bent their minds with no cognition

In their godheads (their thought to erase

_All_ thought to empty out each godhead space)

To meditate (three spaced-out periods),

Allow the void to fill with myriads

Of Oms, then choose the Omest Om, which ought

Fulfill their mission—all without one thought:

**Use three spaced periods to** [god tradition]

**Indicate intentional Om mission**.

"I have a no-thought," Vishnu said. "I almost said 'an idea,' but then I nonremembered that at our last meeting of no-minds we agreed to oust all thought from our godheads, to have all the more space in which to meditate and, at the same time, fill the void with such Oms as we nonthink of." "It's a good—I mean _god_ —thing you nonremembered when you did," Brahma said. "It would have spoiled everything." "Completely!" Shiva said, a cold shivar running up his non-spine, "but at least it wouldn't have spoiled every _think_. __ Anyway, what is your nonidea, Vishnu?" "Well, don't laugh, but I got to nonthinking one meditation that whenever we give voice to our nonthoughts we really ought to have a symbol to represent what has been left out, namely thought, if, as we all nondecided, we're to have complete truth in godvertising." "That's _right_ ," Brahma said, "I'd almost nonforgot—" "Yes, though in leaving out thought," Shiva interjected, "we'd be acting just like _people_ ," and a colder shivar ran up his nonspine all the way to the godhead. "So _what_ omit symbol did you have in no-mind?" "Well, since we are three," Vishnu went on, "and we'll each be meditating upon our Om mission for a nonspecified spaced-out period of time, what if we three represent that which we've agreed to leave out (thought) with three spaced-out periods? What do you two nonthink?" _"Brilliant nonthinking!"_ Brahma enthused, then after nonreflecting for a moment, "oh, but wouldn't our every nonthought then be _nothing but_ spaced-out periods?" "You're right," Vishnu conceded. "Um-m-m-m-m—I mean _Om-m-m-m-m_ —how about if we use an _ellipsis_ [. . .] instead?" _"From your ellipsis to God's ears!"_ Shiva sang out, delighted with the nonidea. Whereupon all three chanted _"Om,"_ though each one came out sounding, ominously, like _"Non-n-n-n-n- . . ."_

23. Question Marks

_If there are no stupid questions, then what kind of questions do stupid people ask? Do they get smart just in time to ask questions?_

—Scott Adams

_"¿This inverted question mark (that looks like a tiny seal balancing a ball on the end of its nose) at the beginning of a sentence is the way Spanish writers put you on notice that you are not about to start reading a statement but, in fact, a question, so you'd better start framing it in your mind as such?" "It certainly is." "¿And it has never occurred to English writers to adopt anything as sensible?" "Apparently not." "¿That doesn't seem a great pity to you?" "I'd never questioned it."_

—The Spanish Inquisition interrogating itself

**Interrogator Job: Apply Within**

"Yes, I'm applying for the advertised

Job of Interrogator." "!" "You're surprised,

I know, that one with my experience

Should have to stoop to gainful queryance.

I _don't_. Upright, I ask you, would I go

And _stoop_ to ask? No, I stand TALL. What? No

I _don't_ stoop!—didn't you hear what I said?

All right, okay— _so what?_ —I bow my head

A little when I look right in his eye

And grill the suspect: **'Who? What? When? Where? _Why?_ '**

"A series of brief questions—all direct,

Of course, unless I grill him I suspect

Of _everything_ with some tag question or

(I play tag with him till he gets so sore

He slips up) an embedded one within

A statement—or rhetorical (a sin

I get no answer), but I never, _no_ ,

Ask one an indirect one, nor some _faux_

Polite request. No, I am _one_ to gang

Up with this mark ( **!** ) and go— ** _'Interrobang'_**."

_ _

_Interrobang?!_ _What_ in the world will they think of next?! And why in God's name doesn't one of you question me as to what an interrobang is?! Someone _does_?! Who in heaven's name could it be?! Ah, yes, Question Mark, the Grand Inquisitor. I might have known. _Is it a terror risk who asks if it's all right to blow you up?_ Good gracious, no! You see, it's two marks, a question mark and an exclamation mark smooshed together into one mark [here represented as two separate marks due to typographic limitations]. Which makes _interrobang_ rather much of a Humpty Dumpty word, doesn't it? ("You see, it's like a portmanteau: there are two [punctuational] meanings packed up into one.") The up-shot of which is that you get twice the bang for your mark. And wouldn't the terror risks, as you so endearingly put it, just _love_ to get their hands on one?! Yes, in the wrong hands, hands that use it to death in all the wrong places, like crowded malls and buses and such, it can be quite the most life-endangering of weapons. And doesn't it just _kill_ us to see it abused, overused so?!

But there you go getting me off on another tangent with your adorable little bang-bang mindsets, when what I wanted to grill you about was question marks. But I'm wise to your endearing little tricks—and they won't do you one bit of good besides softening my heart towards you ever so little. All right, a lot. But never mind that. Right now I want to drop this bombshell on you: there are question marks for

**Direct questions:** Why do you insist on pulling Prose-Mary's pigtails? Who started it? _You?_ How come you haven't washed behind your ears? Who put this shiny red apple on my desk? Why are there tears falling on it?

**Tag questions:** They're the kind that are tacked onto the end of a statement, turning it into a question, aren't they? You know it breaks my old heart to make you stand in the corner, don't you? I always relent after a minute—all right, fifteen seconds—isn't that right?

**Rhetorical questions:** What would become of you all if I were to just put my pointer down and walk out, never to return? How could you ever understand what I am feeling deep down inside? Why am I always asking this kind of question for which no answer is expected?

**Series of questions:** Who can I turn to? you? the man in the moon? the brick wall? anyone who'll listen? _nobody?_

**Embedded questions:** The question is, why am I fond of asking a question by sticking it inside a statement? Often I ask myself, What am I getting out of all this? And of course every year there's always one smart aleck who has to ask, Are embedded questions the ones that get to go along with the troops?

So to recap—and it would be well for you that it not be a _blasting_ cap—what do we get when we combine a question mark with an exclamation mark? Yes, that's right, a highly emotionally charged question such as, _' **Why** in God's name did you blow me up?!' _in which case you will be dead on course to learn

**The Novel Rules of Question Marks**

**F. Lie Bailey, Mark Fuhrman, Judge Lance Ito**

Use a question mark at the end of every direct question

**Whynonah Ryder, Mark Geragos**

Use question marks to indicate a series of queries in the same sentence

**Johnny Chung**

Do not terminate an indirect question with a question mark

**Simon Phraser, Smelling Flour[?]**

Use a question mark after a word, phrase, or date whose accuracy is in question

**James What, Howie Plunder-Howe**

Use either a question mark or exclamation mark with _what_ and _how_ depending on whether they are interrogatory or exclamatory

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Exclamation Marks**

**Mark Twain, God**

It is sometimes appropriate to end a rhetorical question with an exclamation mark rather than a question mark

**Use a question mark at the end of every direct question**

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** **

**_F. Lie Bailey_** _, catching Mark Fuhrman **** in a small-n lie ("I never call people the n-word"), turns beat red when Fuhrman catches him in one big-"F"ing (fibbing) lie._

"I asked Mark Fuhrman on indirect if he ever used the word 'nigger' in describing people. Note the lack of a question mark. 'No,' he replied. The tape was played and we heard him utter the n-word, once? Note the question mark. _Forty-one_ times." Fuhrman: "F. Lie Bailey said, 'I believe O. J. is innocent, true blue.' So I asked him on indirect who the BIG-F [Fibbing] liar is. I may have used the n-word forty-one times, but I never once used a question mark. Then I asked F. Lie if he could make the same sworn statement."
**  
**

134. He Used a Question Mark to His Regret

Then F. Lie Bailey pulled the question trigger

On direct: "Do you use the word 'nigger'

In describing people?" (then on trial

O. J. Simpson). "No," the flat denial

From the witness. Tape was played; we heard

Mark Fuhrman clearly utter the n-word,

Once? _Forty-one_ times. F. Lie got up on

His high horse (on the Moral High Ground's lawn),

And oh so piously charged, _"Perjury!_

Ha— _gotcha!_ Caught you in a lie!" blew he.

But Fuhrman had some questions of his own

For F. Lie Bailey, grossly overblown

With his self-righteousness; he asked the same,

"F. Lie, did you _in deed_ not get your name

For saying 'I believe,' no truther you,

'That O. J.'s innocent—a _saint_ —true-blue'?

A small-n lie was mine, but tell us who's

One BIG-F (Fibbing) liar? — _Gotcha!_ **Use**

**A question Mark** — _please do!_ is my suggestion—

**At the end of every direct question**."

Foreman: "No question: Fuhrman's was the better 'Gotcha!' " (The jury had returned the verdict so quickly it was as though they'd already made up their minds.) Judge Lance Ito immediately assessed damages to F. Lie Bailey ("one BIG bruised ego") and was about to dismiss the jury when the court clerk whispered that there was still the small matter of reaching a verdict in the case of the _People of the State of California_ v. _Oreo James Simpson_. "Oh that's _right_ ," Ito said. "There's no question in my mind that if the 'Trial of the Century' had gone on for another, I'd have remembered. Call the next witness." "The people of the cross-examining state of Ms. Spinster calls to the stand one Question Mark, unquestionably the most inquisitional learnnik it has ever been her exasperation to teac—eh, what's that, Mark? _Shouldn't it be_ _the **people** . . . call?_ _No_ , of course it shouldn't. The number of **people** in the state of Ms. Spinster is one. How could you forget when you so often hear 'Ms. Spinster is good **people** '? But you've gotten your question in ahead of mine. So tell me, if F. Lie Bailey had grilled Mark Fuhrman on _indirect_ rather than direct examination ('I asked Mark Fuhrman if he ever used the word "nigger" in describing people'); and if Fuhrman had grilled Bailey via the same indirect examination ('I asked F. Lie Bailey who the BIG-F [Fibbing] liar is'), shouldn't they both have used a question mark? I await your verdict. . . . _Right!_ They shouldn't have. And there's no question that it was good of you, Question Mark, to give me your 'indirect' answer so directly. Mark is mighty good **people** , class. Well, I hope my using a Question Mark at the end of a direct question this way has indirectly taught you all, as well as F. Lie Bailey (I hope he sues for Liebull and takes himself for all he's got), one BIG-F (Fine) lesson re the question mark."

**Use question marks to indicate a series of queries in the same sentence**

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** **

****

**_Whynonah Ryder_** _reacts to her draconian sentence for shoplifting (probation and community service) as her celebrity attorney,_ ** _Mark Geragos_** _, exhibits his typical emotion at losing another high-profile case, engendering a series of questions in the same sentence as to his ability._

"Why, you're trying to make me grovel, aren't you? think I've fallen so low you can keep me on this casting couch forever, don't you? okay, you _happy_ now?" and she burst into a hail of couch-tomato-size tears, and took home a "Best Performance on a Casting Couch," and was again arrested for shoplifting. "Question is, Why _me_?wah!" perparazzi queried on her perp walk, "will _Quest-Shun Mark_ be 'defending' you [snicker] on this latest celebrity beef?" "Do you all think I'm daft? batty? mentally retarded? crazy? loony? nuts? . . ."
**  
**

135. She Posed Her Series Queries in a Sentence

Whynonah Ryder, questing to be free

Of "Guilty" for her Saks shoplifting spree,

Engaged a famed celebrity attorney.

So began her court-by-TV journey.

Cool, collected, calm, she, not a sweater,

Counted on Mark Geragos to get her

Off, judged by a jury of her peers,

The many peering millions of TVers;

Free to "walk" back into films that flatter,

"Why"-eyed movie-peerers peering at her.

"Why, you stressed?" fans queried. " _Me?_ Why, no—nah!

Geragos will get me off, I know. . . . _WAH!_ "

Her twelve peerless peers returned, as one,

With "Guilty as charged!" to completely shun

Her quest. Why queried, "Sentenced? _why?_ why _me_?

_Three years_ probation? my twelve peers all see

That's _justice_? _why_ 'd they shun my beat-it quest?

Why did I use you, Mark?" He said (you guessed),

" **Use quest-shun Marks to indicate a series**

**Of queries in the same sentence**." __ [Queer he's.]

"Oh, why? why? _why?_ " Whynonah kept asking over and over as she left the courtroom in a hail of paparazzi. Yet for all her serial querying, Whynonah never once questioned the whether forecast (whether all the paparazzi would be waiting outside to inundate her with flash-bulb-size hail). The National Whether Service had long been infallible at predicting such mediarological events. Knowing with certainty that there was going to be one dark cloud over her head, with intermittent showers of hell, for many posttrial days to come, Why _me_?wah! (she had since changed her name) began making the rounds of the casting couches. "Why aren't you casting me in some big just-made-for-me Oscar-winning role? why? why _not_? you _do_ have one for me, don't you? some plum little Golden Globe 'Best Actress' award-winner? 'Best Actress in a media-packed L. A. Courtroom'? 'Best _Sticky-fingered_ Actress'? Cannes Film Festival 'Best Shoplifter in a Saks Fifth Avenue'? 'Most Inept'? 'Klutziest'? 'Most compulsive'? Sundance 'Best Kleptomaniac in a Series'? 'The Absolute _Worst_ at Hiring a Celebrity Attorney'? some fleeting cameo, then? a bit part? a walk-on? 'Best Light-fingered Extra in a Cast of _Millions_ '? something? _anything_? __ Why, you're trying to make me grovel, aren't you? think I've fallen so low you can keep me on this casting couch forever, don't you? okay, you _happy_ now?" and she burst into a hail of couch-tomato-size tears, and took home a "Best Performance on a Casting Couch" (hers for the taking), and was again arrested for shoplifting. "The question is, Why _me_?wah!" perparazzi queried on her perp walk, "will _Quest-Shun Mark_ be 'defending' you [snicker] on this latest celebrity beef?" "Do you all think I'm daft? mentally retarded? crazy? loony? _crack-brained_?" the alleged serial questioner queried. "Well? _do_ you? huh? _HUH? . . ._ "

**Do not terminate an indirect question with a question mark**

****

** **

****

_Dramatic before and after photos show Democratic bundler-turned-FBI-informant_ ** _Johnny Chung_** _achieving his heart-health target after just one day on Chinagate._

"I can't imagine _why_ I'm at the bottom of a heap of FBI agents? I wonder, _ugh!_ if you all would mind terribly (gasp) getting off me now?" "No, of course not, Mr. Chung." "Well at least I don't need to ask if you're taking me into protective custody?" "Spot on! Mr. Chung. Society must be protected from your kind at all costs." "I am moved to inquire as to what you mean?" "Mr. Chung, society must be protected from your misguided habit of terminating every indirect question with a question mark, _when none is required_. . ." 
**  
**

136. Oh, Johnny Was Some Question Mark, All Right

Marked Chinagate informant Johnny Chung,

On heading to the FBI, so clung

To coming clean he strode with but one quest:

"I'll get this Chinagate weight off my chest;

Tell how the People's Liberation Army,

Wanting Clinton reelected (smarmy),

Schemed, 'He'll sell advanced technology

We need to guide our missile rocketry.

Take these illegal campaign contributions,

_The_ most tried and tested of solutions,

'To him.' " Johnny's walk to talk to feds

So ticked off all the scheming figureheads

In Beijing and the White House _their_ one quest

Was this: to shun his quest, and so obsessed

Were they to shut him up, in planned attack

A telltale mark was placed upon his back,

A marksman hired; but Johnny, in direct

Line, mused, "No danger of a dire effect.

**A quest Chung that is 'in direct' must not**

**Be followed by a quest-shun mark**." [He thought.]

"Phew! that was a close one," Johnny said as he bent over to tie his shoe and a .45-caliber slug went whizzing over him at heart height. "It leaves me wondering who the frustrated marksman was? Also, I can't help asking myself why I chose that particular moment to tie my shoe, when that lace has gone untied all morning? It leaves me scratching my head as to what role fate plays in such life-or-death moments, and what part sheer shoothouse luck? I must be dead certain to ask the first metaphysician I run into (I sure don't need the other kind) if I don't lead some kind of charmed life? Oh, just my luck, there's one no—" In direct line of fire, Johnny is hit from all sides at once, and finds himself at the bottom of a heap of FBI agents. "Mr. Chung," the lead agent (fourth from top, right-hand side) says, "we're going to have to take you in." With difficulty, Johnny manages to catch just enough breath to grunt, "I wonder, ugh! if you all would mind terribly (gasp) getting off me now?" "No, of course not, Mr. Chung." They get off and help him to his feet, forming a protective cordon round him. "Well at least I don't need to ask if you're taking me into protective custody?" "Spot on! Mr. Chung. Society must be protected from your kind at all costs." "I am moved to inquire as to just what you mean?" "I mean, Mr. Chung, that society must be protected from your misguided habit—man, could _you_ ever benefit from that guidance technology!—of terminating every indirect question with a question mark, _when none is required._ " "Fine, but I can't help asking what the nearly successful assassin will get?" "There you go again! But don't worry, Mr. Chung. While the failed marksman won't get the Medal of Honor, Presidents Clinton and Jiang Zemin plan to award him the Distinguished Service _Cross_ ("Are we _ever_!") for the World's Most Misguided Miss-all."

**Use a question mark after a word, phrase, or date whose accuracy is in question**

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** **

****

_Having successfully shot the rapids of the eponymous Phraser River, explorer_ ** _Simon Phraser_** _shoots the breeze with Smelling[?]Flour[?], with highly questionable success._

"My little Shoeswap[?] princess, you're the one for me." "Smiling Flower have heap big doubts Simon Phraser. Come after word, phrase, or date out steady stream mouth of paleface." "Who are you calling Pailface[?], my little rug-skinned Smelting Flounder[?]?' ' _Smiling_ _Flower_ call _Simon Phraser_ paleface. Ifum mocassin fit, _you wearum_.' 'Listen, Grinning Weed, I don't mind dating you, but I wouldn't set a date with you if you were the last of the—' " and there, unaccountably, the narrative abruptally[?] drops off. . . .
**  
**

137. She Questioned Heaps His Each Word, Phrase, or Date

Fur trader and explorer Simon Phraser

Had a way with words, this young trail blazer,

Which route he then followed (quite a road[?])

On up the Trachea to where it flowed

Into the broad Esophagus which spilt

Its steady stream of effluent, a silt

Of consonants and syllables and vowels

Right on by its effluential jowels[?],

And on out its mouth. Recorded date

(His): Sunday[?], July 3[?], 1808.

He knew his dates, so Simon started dating

At this time, for purposes of mating,

Kwantlen[?] Musqueam[?] squaw (he was not

Sure just which tribe, but he knew he'd been shot

Straight through the heart), and he poured forth a stream

Of words which made her question the esteem

She held him in; his words did not effuse

Precision; thus it was she learned to **Use**

**A question mark post a word-Phraser date**

**Whose accuracy is in doubt** **** [debate].

It is fortunate that at least the journal of Simon Phraser [May 3? 1776–August 18, 1862] survived. We read: ". . . and so I said to her on our third[?] date, 'Smelling Flour[?], my little Shoeswap[?], Highda[?], or whatever princess—you're the one for me.' 'Smiling Flower have heap big doubts Simon Phraser. Come after word, phrase, or date out steady stream mouth,' she[?] said that night in Tsawwashing[?] near the mouth of the Fraser[?] River. What made me doubt her[?] racy gender was the _buck_ -naked way she brandished a tommyhawk[?]. 'Where Simon Phraser born?' 'Why, Milling Flour[?],' I replied, 'I was born in the little settlement of Mapletowne[?] (it might have been Ashford or Elm Grove or Pinesville, now that I think about it) near Benningtowne[?], Vermont, U.S.A. during the Canadian[?] Revolutionary War.' 'You only doubting Thomas in family?' 'Why, my little papooze[?] maker, I was borne[?] (I might possibly have been hatched or spawned) the eighth[?] and youngest[?] child of Scottish Highlanders, my mithur[?] and fayther[?] from Culbokie.' 'What you think Smiling Flower as wigwammaker?' 'My squaw, I'm still as young as a spring chick hen[?] and at present[?] (I may be confusing it with now) all the hairs[?] on my scalp are in tact[?]. So I won't be kneading[?] your surfaces[?] until Toupé[?] or Wednesday of the first week in Rugust[?], 1856[?].' 'Now we speak dates, paleface, you no thinkum high time we _set_ one?' 'Who are you calling Pailface[?], my little rug-skinned Smelting Flounder[?]?' ' _Smiling_ _Flower_ call _Simon Phraser_ paleface. Ifum mocassin fit, _you wearum_.' 'Listen, Grinning Weed, I don't mind dating you, but I wouldn't set a date with you if you were the last of the—' " and there, unaccountably, the gripping narrative abruptally[?] drops off. No question about it, though. They're blud[?].

**Use either a question mark or exclamation mark with _what_ and _how_ depending on whether they are interrogatory or exclamatory**

****

** **

****

_Secretary of the Interior_ ** _James What_** _and Undersecretary_ ** _Howie Plunder-Howe_** _sharing their daily merriment over clams on the half shell. Photo courtesy of **The Public Trough**._

"What, **how** could this have happened to us— **how?** " "I'll tell you **how** , Howe. It's because we wasted taxpayers' clams, _that_ 's **how!** " " **What** clams were they!" " **What,** are you stupid?" "I'm Howe." "Exactly! **How** stupid of you to use an exclamation mark when you should have used a question mark, given the dual (exclamatory/interrogatory) nature of **what** and **how**." "And **how!** " "Damn it, Howe, I just said 'and **how**.' But look, we can agree on one thing." " **What** 's that, What?" " **How** are the mighty fallen!" . . .
**  
**

138. Right Marks with _What_ and _How_ Were What and Howe

"I, James What, Ronald Reagan's Secretary

Of the Rich Interior, am very

Bullish on extracting _all_ the wealth

From it—and damn environmental health!

Let's have it all out, every bit—and now.

With me in this is Howie Plunder-Howe,

My Undersecretary—who the hell

Cares if an oil spill kills marine life, well,

That is, as long as we— _damn_ , let it flow!—

Both get our hundred thousand clams or so?

" **What** 's that you say? **How** 's that? You _question_ us?

**What** can it mean now, all this outraged fuss?"

" **How** can you— **what** , we're thrown out on the _street_

—Without a clam—no lobster bisque to eat?"

" **How** _clamless_ we are now! which we are loath

To swallow— **what** a way to teach us both

To **Use a question mark with Howe and What**

**When they are interrogatory, but**

("Impeachy day, **what!** " " **How** defamatory!")

**Not when either is ex-clamatory**!"

"What, **how** could this have happened to us— **how?** " Howie Plunder-Howe howled. "I'll tell you **how** , Howe," What said. "It's because we wasted taxpayers' clams, _that_ 's **how!** " " **What** clams were they!" " **What,** are you stupid?" "I'm Howe." "Exactly! **How** stupid of you to use an exclamation mark when you should have used a question mark, given the dual (exclamatory/interrogatory) nature of **what** and **how** that has given us such pains of late!" "And **how!** " "Damn it, Howe, I just said 'and **how**.' **What** a colossal pain it is to have you repeat everything I say!" "You're a fine one to talk, What! You just repeated 'and **how** ' after _me._ ' " " **What** I _said_ , How—oh, never mind—" "Well I _do_ mind, What. You just used an exclamation mark with your **What** before last when you should've used a question mark." " **How** daft you are, Howe! I was using the exclamatory **What** , not the interrogatory **What**. Besides, you used an exclamation mark with your 'And **how!** ' If you wanted to know **how** **what** and **how** have given us such pains—and continue giving them to _you—_ you should've used a question mark: 'And **how?** ' " "What a titanic nitwit you are, What. I wasn't using the interrogative **how** ('And **how** did they give us such pains?'), I was using the exclamatory **how** ('And **how!** ' as in 'You said a mouthful!'). And talk about the What calling the kettle black! You just said, ' **How** daft you are, Howe!' ending it with an exclamation mark." " **What** about it?" " ** _What_** _about it?!_ If you wanted to know **how** daft I am, and you didn't need to repeat it, I heard you the first time, you should have said, ' **How** daft are you?' with its trademark subject/verb inversion." "Look here, Howe, there's one thing we can agree on." " **What** 's that, What?" " **How** are the mighty fallen!" " **What** a lamebrain you are, What! You just used an _exclamation_ mark when a question mark . . ."

24. Exclamation Marks

_Cut out all these exclamation points. An exclamation point is like laughing at your own joke._

—F. Scott Fitzgerald

**His Very Exclamation Was in Question**

"Hmmph! Question _shmestion_ Marks, I ask you now:

Who's more UPright than I who'd _never_ bow

My head for anyone—not even when

I stoop to asking this of you—again!

You see! That's _thrice_ I've asked, yet never stooped

To use a question mark, a half-baked _hoop_.

I guess that shows which mark's superior

And just which one is the inferior

Mark—you or me?—yes, there's _no question_ , __ brother,

Just which of us two marks trumps the other.

"Sure, I used your mark with 'you or me?'

But only, mark you, so that all could see

How _much_ you bow to 'me,' when in my presence,

Your wee head. A KING expects his peasants

To so bow. And who, with marked perfection,

Could, just _once_ , show forceful interjection

As I do, show vigorous emotion,

And command (yes, you're stuck for a notion),

Plus— _surpri-i-i-ise!_ (and mine is more than stark

I end this query with a question mark)?"

Class, as Exclamation Marks just showed us, oftentimes it is quite appropriate to end a question with an exclamation mark. You see, it's all a question, in the end, of which mark lobbies hardest for its cause—as Exclamation Marks found out, when he got to the finish line and realized: You can lead a verse to **what?** or **who?** or **when?** or **where?** or **how?** or **why?** but you can't make him drink an exclamation mark if what he's really thirsty for is a question mark, now, can you? You'd have more luck pushing a string. What? _How can you drink an exclamation mark?_ Well, you might just as well ask me how you can drink a toast.

But never mind that now. As the old aphorism exclaims, _There's no sense flogging a said verse_. And besides, what I got up this afternoon( **!** ) to talk to you about is how you can use an exclamation mark inside parentheses to emphasize a word, as I did just now right after 'afternoon.' And I could as easily have substituted a question mark, which would have called into _question_ my getting up in the afternoon rather than emphasizing the _surprise_ attending my sleepyheadedness, wouldn't it? Yes, and now that that surprising question is settled, who can tell us yet another way we can use an exclamation mark? Yes, excellent, Studenta, _sparingly_ —the very best way of all. What else? . . . No one? . . . Not _one!_ . . . Well, we can use it as a crowbar( **!** ), can't we? Yes, and a very handy, portable one at that; one we can use to pry a crow's **_CrowCrow!_** apart, then, at crimson-faced sight of the first bare-naked( **!** ) **_Crow_** , hastily place the bar on its naked backside to show, in all modesty, that it's every bit as exclamatorially loud, raucous, and mocking ( ** _Crow! Crow!_** ) as the last **_Cro_** —eh, how's that? _But crows don't go **Crow! Crow!** They go **Caw! Caw!**_? Well, that's more or less true. But it doesn't suit my purpose to have a black-lunged murder of crows going around **_Caw! Caw!_** ing, like a flock of little jaw-flapping magpies I know, when I expressly want them to be **_Crow! Crow!_** ing, in loud exclamatory fashion, about the good **_Cause_** I've so unstintingly given my life to, even though it was plain bloody murder to afford

**The Novel Rules of Exclamation Marks**

**Werewolfman Jack**

Use the exclamation point to end a forceful interjection

**Mark Twain, God**

It is sometimes appropriate to end a rhetorical question with an exclamation mark rather than a question mark

**Franchot Tone**

Use an exclamation mark to show the tone is other than the words themselves convey

**Pope Innocent XII, Sister Immarkulate**

To not use an exclamation mark when one is called for is just as wrong as using one when none is called for

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Question Marks**

**James What, Howie Plunder-Howe**

Use either a question mark or exclamation mark with _what_ and _how_ depending on whether they are interrogatory or exclamatory

**Use the exclamation point to end a forceful interjection**

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** **

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**_Werewolfman Jack_** _makes his point a hair too often for God._

"Oh, God, it's _just_ not working! For all I drive my point home as sharply, forcefully, **_often!_** as ever, my knifelike exclamatory howl— ** _Ow-oooooooo!_** —doesn't even elicit mild surprise anymore. They're not the least **OW!** struck! As if they no longer believe the exclamation point is the way, the truth, and the **_light!_** " _By thunder, it out-herods Herod; a loopy wolf that howls **Wolf!!!!** at every non–life-threatening inopportunity. Wherefore I say unto you, Howling Wolf, I could mercifully strike you dumb. Howl that suit you?_
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**

139. Spare God the Forceful Interjection Marks

Werewolfman Jack injects into the mainstream

Radio, direct into our brainstream,

Gravelly-cum-raspy DJ growl

**_—Ow-oooooooo!_** (his interjected lupine howl),

And sinks his vocal fangs deep in our psyche.

Favoring the dead of night to strike, he

Forces, sinks his fangs in (how they glisten!);

Claims our lifeblood. Victims, we _must_ listen.

"Werewolf!—figment of imagination,"

You scoff; "just some silly superstation."

Tip: (a sharp point) through the heart's the way

To kill a werewolf, werewolf experts say.

More strongly yet they urge you, though you scoff

Still—" _Turn that bloody superstation **off!**_

He'll have no power, force to interject,

His fangs deep in your ears if you direct

Your point in— _knifelike_ —cry, 'Werewolfman Jack!

You've no more bloody claim— _I've my_ **_life_ **_back!_ ' __ "

Yes, **Use the ex-claimation point to end**

**A forceful interjection** —he's _dead_ , friend.

"That's right, baby. I'm half wolf/half nighttime DJ, and you're listening perforce to the Wolfman— ** _Ow-oooooooo!_** "—and the terminating exclamation point of the Wolfman's howl is so sharply enunciated, so forcefully interjected into the AM nighttime mainstream that parishioners (oh, make no mistake; it is religion in the truest sense of the word) yawn as the point is interjected deep into their late-night psyches. Hardly the liturgical response ( ** _"OWWWW!"_** ) he's looking for. "Oh, God," the Wolfman rasps in an emotional off-air aside, "it's _just_ not working! For all I drive my point home as sharply, forcefully, **_often!_** as ever, these late nights, with every emotional decibel of my trademark lupine vigor, my knifelike exclamatory howl— ** _Ow-oooooooo!_** —doesn't even elicit mild surprise anymore. _They're not the least bit **OW!** struck._ It's as if they've turned into a block of **_insult!_** a tribe of ungodfearing heathens who no longer believe in an **_OW!_** some God; no longer believe the exclamation point the way, the truth, and the **_light!_** " [Almighty thunder and lightning] _By God, it out-herods Herod; a loopy wolf that howls **Wolf!** at every non–life-threatening inopportunity. Have you not, Werewolfman Jack, my Bible, a Good Book by all accounts, for example. And of all, have I myself, who made you from a lumpkin of clay, in mine own image, for God's sake, not every reason on earth to exclaim, with Almighty force; every reason to want to disclaim you? And yet, _God continued to wax wroth, _have you seen one exclamation mark in all the Holy Bible, yea, a Bible wholly free of exclamation marks? Wherefore I say unto you, Howling Wolf, that unless you have a Great Forty-Day Flood of emotions to express; or some jaw-dropping parting of the emotional Red Sea to get off your chest—once in a great while—howl me no forcefully interjected exclamatory howls._
_  
_

**It is sometimes appropriate to end a rhetorical question with an exclamation mark rather than a question mark**

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** **

****

_Neither_ ** _Mark Twain_** _'s nor God's rhetoric is in question._

"God, can you believe those lumpkins! What do they expect me to end a rhetorical question with _but_ an exclamation mark! What good is a question mark on the end of a question no one expects an answer to!" _Don't I know it!_ _What do you think it's worth in Heaven!_ "How on earth should I know!" [God eyes him closely] _By Jove, you're not Captain Stormfield, are you! You're a dead ringer for him._ "Am I! Well isn't that a fine compliment!" _This is what you call gratitude for my breathing life into you, is it! . . ._
**  
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140. Did He Not Make _Some_ Exclamation Mark!

The Lord made Mark Twain as a lump of clay,

And animated him and had him say

The Twainiest things (first use of claymation).

_Isn't he a spin-a-yarn sensaytion!_

_Hark! Just listen to his rhetoric;_

_He rattles it off like a Catholic._

Well satisfied with this clay prototype

He'd wrought, God thought to mold the photo type.

With water, wit, and Mississippi mud,

The Lord brought Mark to living flesh and blood.

__

No longer clay, this living Mark exclaimed

Rhetorically, "What _better_ to be named

Than Mark Twain! Am I just _two_ humorous

For words or what! But can't you hear the fuss!

'In _question_ marks this Mark does not excel!'

Yet didn't God _himself_ not teach me well!

**Sometimes it is appropriate to end**

**A question that's rhetorical** [and penned],

**Not with a question, __ but an ex-claymation**

**Mark** —and aren't I some remark creation!"

_Yea, not to put too fine an exclamation point on it—as all those lumps of clay in America do—though it will always be an exclamation mark to me since that's the way I created it in the Garden of England, I am rather good at using Marks of ex-claymation. _"Wasn't that _good_ of you to stick up for me!" Mark exclaimed. _Without question._ "God, can you believe those lumpkins! What do they expect me, an emotional Mark, to end a rhetorical question with _but_ an exclamation mark! What earthly good is a question mark on the end of a question no one expects an answer to anyway!" _Don't I know it!_ _What do you think it's worth in Heaven!_ "How on earth should I know!" [God eyes him more closely] _By Jove, you're not Captain Stormfield, are you! You're a dead ringer for him._ "Am I! Well isn't that a fine compliment!" _He never used a question mark after a rhetorical question either._ "Didn't he!" _No, verily, he came storming into Heaven on an interrobang, a kind of religious_ _symbol created tens of eons ago when a question mark collided with an exclamation mark, or so the Interrobigbang Theory goes. My theory is it was created by those who like to have it both ways._ "Really?!" _Yea, like those who sin and at the same time believe in me so that whatever comes down—or, rarely, up—they're covered._ "And I'm supposed to believe that, am I!" _Have you lost the mind I created for you! No, you are supposed to believe in me—without question. _"Wouldn't you just know it! Is that _free will_ , or what!" _This is what you call gratitude for my having breathed life into you, is it! Remember, I made you from a lump of clay—and I can as easily turn you back into one. T hat is what you want, is it! How do you like this remark: **Mark is Mark and Heaven is Heaven—and never the Twain shall meet!** '_ "Now isn't that _just_ like a vengeful God!"

**Use an exclamation mark to show the tone is other than the words themselves convey**

****

** **

****

_Chain smoker_ ** _Franchot Tone_** _appearing cool, manly, and hip against an equally "with-it" backdrop of lung cancer._

"Oh, _Can't, Sir!_ If I construe the tone of your words correctly, as is made all too emphatically clear by their _terminating_ exclamation mark, you are telling me, 'You've bought it!' " "You've got it! If you had not terminated your expression 'bought it' with an exclamation mark, the tone one would most assuredly have come away with is that you had literally bought it, which you did, at something on the order of three hacks a pack, though when you started they were probably only two spits a pack." "One." . . . 
**  
**

141. Lung Cancer's Tone Was More Than Words Convey

The actor Franchot Tone (as like as not

You would or do pronounce "Franchot" Fran- _chot_ ,

To rhyme with "hot," when he himself, you know,

Pronounced it [till he died of smoke] Fran- _show_ )

Had, being half French and half Francophone,

The gall to halve the Gaul to set the tone

For everyone in every single scene,

On stage, on screen . . . until the nicotine,

Which set the tone of manly, cool, and hip,

Toned down the whole above, below each lip.

His final co-star he played opposite

( _Bad_ actor, his part more than just a bit),

Who always plays the villain (ask, he'll answer

To, yes, let the credits roll, _Lung Can't, Sir!_ ),

Set the tone; his exclamation mark

Quite said it all: "Chain smoker! Last scene, _dark_!"

Franchot could not atone: _"S-S-Salvation?"_

_"Can't, Sir!"_ taught Tone: __**Use an exclamation**

**Mark to "chot" the Tone** [as Tone would say]

**Is other than the words themselves convey**.

"Oh, _Can't, Sir!_ " Franchot exclaimed with an air (what little capacity he had left for that precious commodity) of desperation. "If I construe the tone of your words correctly, as is made all too emphatically clear by their _terminating_ exclamation mark, you are telling me 'You've bought it!' " "You've got it! If you had not terminated your expression 'bought it' with an exclamation mark, the tone one would most assuredly have come away with is that you had literally bought it, which you did, at something on the order of three hacks a pack, though when you started they were probably only two spits a pack." "One." "But of course the tone you meant to convey was that you are a walking dead man—which you are! a point made emphatically clear by your apposite use of an exclamation point. Just as when I said, 'You've got it!' Had I not used that exclamation mark, one would have taken its matter-of-fact tone to mean 'you've got it,' which you have, rather than as I intended to convey, that you had 'got' the fact that you had got it—the big C! Just as if you'd said, 'I didn't think chain smoking mattered,' and I'd replied, 'You didn't think it mattered!' Yes, if I had not used that wonderfully deadly, emphatically terminating mark I wouldn't ever have achieved the tone of scornful mockery I so intended, as when I jeeringly throw in your face, 'You thought filtered cigarettes weren't cancer-causing!' or 'Every day of your adult life you wheezingly asked the tobacconist for a king-size pack of Coffinails—and paid for it!' How else would I have conveyed the utter _lunacy_ of the habit along with the intended tone of derision?" "You're right, oh you're absolutely right, _Mr. Lung Can't, Sir!_ " "I'm right! You admit it!" "Oh, _please_ , sir—in my whole life, not once did I ever smoke in bed." "You never once smoked in death bed! _Ri-ight!_ How very smart of you!"
**  
**

**To not use an exclamation mark when one is called for is just as wrong as using one when none is called for**

****

** **

****

**_Pope Innocent XII and Sister Immarkulate_** _of the Lonely Cloister in mass miscommunication._

"She should've known that to open her cloister door and find _me_ calling on her, only to greet me with a lackluster 'Your Holiness,' rather than a flushed and most exclamatory 'Your Holiness!' was _wrong_!" "Well he should have known that using an exclamation mark when none is called for would not win me over. How uncouth. What an innocent." "That's just like her! She just doesn't get it that using the exclamatory _how_ and _what_ in that cloistered fashion obligated her to exclaim, 'How uncouth! What an innocent!' . . ." 
**  
**

142. To Use, Not Use a Mark That Way Is Wrong

Pope Innocent was such an innocent:

He thought to pay a call on, so he went

Down to her cloister in the Vatican,

Knocked on her door— _and there was Sister Anne_

_Immarkulate_ , all virginal surprise

To find _His Holiness_ before her eyes.

"I've come to ask if you would like [her stare

Was wide] to go to mass, now, in St. Peter's Square

With me!" His marked proposal proved too much

For her, a too exclamatory touch.

All saintliness herself, she knew it meant

That it would all be very innocent.

And though, in cloister, she had wept full sore

For caller innocent at cloister door,

She failed to mark his call with exclamation:

"Holiness!" No mass association

Taught them: **To not use an** [when it's bawled for]

**Exclamation mark when one is called for**

**Is as wrong as using one when nun**

**Is called for**. [None too innocent, each one.]

Each attending massive loneliness once more, Pope Innocent XII and Sister Immarkulate of the Lonely Cloister played the blame game: "She should've known," he said to kick off the telepathic recriminations, "that to open her cloister door and find _me_ calling on her, only to greet me with a lackluster 'Your Holiness,' rather than a flushed and exclamatory 'Your Holiness!' as befits the _Vicar of Christ_ , was _wrong_!" "Well he should have known that using an exclamation mark when none is called for, howsoever impassioned, would not win me over. How uncouth. What an innocent." "That's just like her! She just doesn't get it that using the exclamatory _how_ and _what_ in that cloistered fashion obligated her to exclaim, 'How uncouth! What an innocent!' Surely she must know that! Can she be that daft! Don't tell me she doesn't know that much at least!" "Good God. Isn't Innocent the exclamatory fool? I can't believe he got to be Pope not knowing you don't go throwing exclamation marks around willy-nilly for mere statement, question, and command in a futile attempt to infuse them with exclamatory excitement when none (not to be confused with nun) exists. He should rightly have said, 'Surely she must know that. Can she be that witless? Don't tell me she doesn't know _that_ much at least.' _O you fumbling incompetent Innocent_. _That's another fine mass you didn't get us into._ No more. Heaven help me." "Look who's talking nunsense! _She_ should've known to use an exclamation mark after an interjection: 'Good God!'; an emotional outburst: 'Isn't Innocent the exclamatory fool!'; an apostrophe: _'O you fumbling incompetent, Innocent!'_ ; an emotional inversion: _'That's another fine mass you didn't get us into!'_ ; an ellipsis: 'No more!'; and a wish: 'Heaven help me!' " "There he goes again, giving me a black mark when none is called for . . ."

25. Hyphens

_I must beg you to indulge me in the matter of hyphens. . . . You will find that I have marked out a great many in the proofs. We are in danger of Germanizing our printing by using them so much._

—Woodrow Wilson to Harper and Brothers

_Does "anal retentive" have a hyphen?_

—Anonymous

**A Simple Case of Hyphen-Ventilating**

"The 'most contrary' mark of punctuation,

I unite, join words __ by _separation_.

Joining to make compound words, I come

Between the words to make a compound sum;

But then again I step between their parts

To deftly separate words at their hearts.

But how I'm most contrary in my way

Is that (as all the language experts say)

I'm less a mark of (this is truly telling)

Punctuation than a mark of _spelling_.

"Still, I mind my hyphenating bus-

iness, doing what I do the best, which is

Compounding words; but when, these, I'm not mak-

ing, come line's end ( _this word's too lon-n-n-ng!_ ) I'm break-

ing them; plus I make fractions by design,

Make numbers twenty-one to ninety-nine;

More, I join pre-fixes to words to fix

Them (though not broken), so, God, _eighty-six_

Each en **–** dash, em **—** dash --- UGH! how fat! gross! _ew-w-w-w!_

What dash OBESE can do the things _I_ do?"

So, very, very, _quite_ contrary, / How does our Hyphens grow? / With self-conceits and swelled conceits / And one PUFFED-UP e-go. Oh!—oh, darlings, do forgive me. This is _most_ uncharacteristic of me. But then you see, every so seldom the rhyme and the reason, the time and the season infect me so . . . so _perversely_ that, though I have so very little to sing about, I invariably put the heart before the verse—and break out in song. I just can't help myself. But I can help _you_ , can't I? With hypens, I mean, helping you to understand that you _never_ break a word at the end of a line with a dash. Nor should you break it in the wrong place, about which Henry Chicken Hawk and Dick and Jane will have much more to say. Then, too, I can help you see that the rules for breaking words with a hyphen at the end of a line are so multitudinous, so very, very quite contrary to being _stated_ in a lifetime, much less learned, that, besides breaking out in loud, piteous lamentations, there is nothing one can do but break out in
**  
**

The 20-Volume Dictionary Blues

Lord, help me carry on my person, oh!

Wherever from now on in life I go,

The whole (no-word-missed) _20_ -volume set:

The Oxford English Dictionary ("Get

It for some _fifteen hundred dollars_ spent,

_Plus_ more bucks for each must-have supplement,

Nutritional as much as those in print")

Because it's quite impossible by dint

Of memory to ever come to know

Where, come line-break, the hyphen should _must_ go,

Especially going through a nasty breakup

Where said hyphen's useless, _quite_ , for makeup

(So Ms. Spinster says, and she should know

Since she's been broken up for ages)—oh,

Just _seventy-five bucks per_ volume, any;

_Seventy-five_ more than have you many

Flat-broke darlings, broken up inside

Like hyphenated words, and how you've cried,

"How _much_ —how _long_ I'll have to save. How great!

I've got a 20-volume paper wait."

_Ah-h-h!_ how cathartically good it feels to have gotten that out of my system. Some day your little fluttering hearts will understand about such _affaires de coeur_ , in 20 volumes. Oh, but who can tell us why it's as hard to get some things (like an old spooning flame) out of your system, as it is to get other things (like learning) in? Right, no one can, not even the greatest philosophers, meaning those who'd be the last to know. As for me, I'll be happy to have some day gotten you munchkins out of my school system (if not my other). But never mind those heartbreakers, as some never learn from them. What I want to say is, you'll be systematically giddy to learn that, while I'm enjoining you _to listen_ , I'm going to separate you from ignorance by laying upon you a smaller, much easier-to-bear volume of examples:

**Compound adjectives:** fifteen-year-old first-grade student; nothing-ever-goes-right day; why-does-it-always-have-to-be- _me-_ that-does-it? attitude

**Compound nouns:** merry-go-round; mother-in-law; great-great-granddaughter; self-starter; teacher-in-training; Johnny-come-lately, fly-in-the-ointment

**Numbers:** twenty-one, sixty-five, ninety-nine

**Fractions:** one-tenth; three-fifths; seven-eights

**Some prefixes:** pro-family; co-defendant; post-9/11; anti-Islamic

Well there you have the short and the short of it, darlings. Just enough for you to begin to see that, with the way he joins words, while at the same time he so contrarily separates them, Hyphens is a make-it-or-break-it kind of mark. And if it's a single compound noun like _heart-to-heart_ , some of us have every reason to know which it will be, come to

**The Novel Rules of Hyphens**

**Hyph-Hitler, Hypha-Brawn**

Eliminate all unnecessary hyphens

**Chicken Little, Henny Penny**

Use a hyphen to separate (actually join) the parts of many compound words

**Henry Chicken Hawk**

Use a hyphen to indicate the division of a word broken at the end of a line

**Dick and Jane**

Break words at the end of the line by syllables and sound

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Virgules**

**Virgule, Augustus Caesar**

Use a virgule to: indicate a line break when quoting multiple lines of poetry; separate the month/day/year in dates; separate the numerator and denominator in a fraction; act as a division operator; substitute for a hyphen; substitute for _per/or/and;_ show pronunciation; write internet addresses

**Eliminate all unnecessary hyphens**

****

** **

****

_The Allies about to capture Berlin,_ ** _Hyph Hitler and Hypha Braun_** _are joined in marriage by a hyphen, forming a husband-wife hyphenated compound. Thirty-six hours later they enact another more permanent hyphenated compound: a double-suicide pact._

"We must _exterminate_ all un-SS-Ari Haifans and compound Jews." "B-B-B-But we are M-M-M-Mittelmans, M-M-M-Meyers, R-R-R-Rothsteins. W-W-W-We have s-s-s-single _un_ hyphenated names. We are not c-c-c-compound Jew—" "How you lie! With such hyper-hyphenated names, are not _all_ of you compound-hyphenated-name Jews? Yes! which is why you—were you all born in Stuttergart?—are being railroaded to _hyphenated_ compounds like Bergen-Belsen, Dora-Mittlebau, which, like you, contain Haifans." . . .
**  
**

143. Unnecessary Hyphens, Dear, Not _Haifans_

Hyph-Hitler had a thing against the Jews;

But no tribe did he sore love to abuse

More than the Jews from Haifa. "Liars! _Very_

Down am I upon their lot named 'Ari'

[Hebrew _lion_ ]," and a diatribe

He then unleashed upon "that lyin' tribe

Who lie they're Arians—though they don't place

As do we Ary-Ns, the _master_ race,

We Nazi SS __ (So Superior),

_One_ hyphen into—how inferior!—

"Their lyin' tribe, as we—" "Uh, Hyphie, dear,"

Sighed Hypha-Brawn, his mistre-SS, "I fear

You misconstrue these Arians of Zion

To be lyin' when each one's a _lion._ "

" _Each_ a-lyin'! It's just as I said.

I'll teach these Arians to lie—down _dead_.

My dread SS has orders to—yes, fated

Will these lyin' Jews _un_ hyphenated

Be. **Eliminate** —watch! [one unlifens,

Lies down]— **all un-SS-Ari Haifans**.

"Blonde-haired, blue-eyed, non-Jewish, SS-hyphen-bearing, official-compound Ary-Ns, for us the 'Jewish Question' is settled: Uber-Master-Racial-SS-Ary-Ns all," Hyph Hitler raved on, "we must _exterminate_ all un-SS-Ari Haifans—just as you lyin' Arians got rid of the hyphen so necessary to us Ary-Ns." "B-B-B-But we, we are M-M-M-Mittelmans, M-M-M-Meyers, R-R-R-Rothsteins, C-C-C-Cohens, L-L-L-Levines, G-G-G-Goldsteins. W-W-W-We have s-s-s-single _un_ hyphenated names. We are not c-c-c-compound Jew—" "How you lie! With hyper-hyphenated names like G-G-G-Goldman-S-S-S-Sachs, are not _all_ of you compound-hyphenated-name Jews?" _"Y-Y-Y—"_ " _Yes!_ Which is why you—were you all born in Stuttergart?—are being railroaded to _hyphenated_ -concentration-camp compounds (Bergen-Belsen, Dora-Mittlebau) which, like you, contain Haifans." _"P-P-P-Please—"_ "With the 'Jewish problem' of so many compound hyphens to your names, must not all of _you_ be exterminated like the unnecessary hyphens in: compound adjectives after the noun (Jews who are **dark haired** ); adjectives of color ( **gray black** skies); adverb-before-adjective compounds ( **really inhuman** treatment); two-word jobs ( **Führer racist** ); chemical compounds ( **sodium cyanide** final solution); foreign phrases used as adjectives ( **post mortem** cadaver); compounds formed with unhyphenated proper names ( **World War II** atrocities); words of relationship ( **fellow** __**war** __ criminal); interim compounds ( **holocaust genocidist** ); many compounds ( **railroad** )? Now, do _you_ not have too many unnecessary hyphens to your name—?" "B-B-B-Bu—" "Exactly! Get into the **boxcars** waiting to take you lyin's to the **Final Solution** Haifanatorium designed by me to eliminate all unnecessary Haifan—" _"P-P-P-Please!"_ "Say _p-p-p-pretty p-p-p-pleas._"

**Use a hyphen to separate (actually join) the parts of many compound words**

****

** **

****

_Though "_ ** _Chicken Little_** _" is not a hyphenated-compound construction, Henny Penny nevertheless finds in Chicken Little a hype-hen._

"Henny, the _sky_ came pounding on my head, making me _very_ blue. Oh but think of the coincidence! When I was running from the falling sky, my head down, I ran into a hyper creature much like myself, a _hyphen_. The first thing it told me was, 'Like you, I enjoin the parts of many compound words, such as **chicken-hearted** , **feather-brained** , ** __ self-deluding**, ** __ half-witted, sawdust-for-brains**.' And then do you know what this dodo told me? It said, 'and at the same time I keep them _apart_.' Imagine! And some call me . . ." 
**  
**

144. She Used a Hype-Hen to Enjoin the Parts

Out walking in the woods one fine fall day

As Chicken Little loved to—woe! dismay!

She felt some thing astounding and dumbfounding

On her little bird brain then come pounding.

She, not thinking "Acorn come a-calling,"

Gasped, "Oh, goodness me—the _sky_ is falling!"

Throwing wings up to protect her head,

She ran out of the woods in chicken dread,

And, thinking to warn all the hens-a-many,

Ran _smack!_ into (poor thing) Henny Penny.

"I'm going in the woods to hunt for worms,"

Clucked Henny Penny when she'd come to terms

With her dazed senses. " _No!_ Pen—use your smarts.

The _sky_ is falling down there in those parts!"

"Oh that was just an _acorn_ ," Penny said.

" _No_ , Penny, _sky_ came pounding on my head

—No other word. You _mustn't_ go there!" Penny's

Bird brain saw to **Use a** __ [for no hen ease]

**Hype-hen to enjoin "the Parts of _Many_**

**Come-pound Words** — _don't go there_ , Henny Penny!"

__

"Oh, but dear me," Chicken Little clucked when she had stopped running around like a chicken with her head cut off, "I've done little to enjoin other birdbrains from becoming hendangered species: 'You _mustn't_ stroll in the Parts of Many Come-pound Words where the sky is falling!' And the worst of it is, Henny, a birdbrain never knows, unless he or she looks up, just _which_ of the many skies is about to come pounding on his or her head. At any moment it might be a clear, a cloudy, an overcast, an unsettled, a rainy, a sunny, an evening—oh, but since a chicken always has his or her head down looking for worms, there's no telling _what_ manner of sky is about to come pounding. The only thing one can be certain about, when it all comes down to it—one's poor bird brain!—is that it is sure to leave one feeling perfectly _blue_. Oh, but think of the coincidence! One day when I had my head down I ran into a hyper creature much like myself, a _hyphen_. Imagine! The first thing it told me was, 'Like you, I enjoin the parts of many compound words: two or more words modifying a noun to make a compound adjective, like **chicken-hearted** , **feather-brained** , ** __ self-deluding**, ** __ half-witted**; compound nouns, such as **rooster-in-law** ; a single capital letter married to a noun or participle, for example **C-flat** (the common chicken coop); improvised compounds made up out of my hyphen head, like **hens-and-chickens** , ** __ sawdust-for-brains**, ** _fox-in-the-henhouse_** ; compound numbers from **twenty-one** all the way up to **ninety-nine** (not that any _birdbrain_ can count that high); come-pound (head-ache) fractions like **three-quarters** , **one-henth**.' And then do you know what this dodo of a hyphen told me, Henny? It said, 'As well as enjoining the parts of many compound words, at the same time I _keep them apart_!' Imagine it! And some call _me_ a birdbrain."

**Use a hyphen to indicate the division of a word broken at the end of a line**

****

** **

****

**_Henry Chicken Hawk_** _sees peace talks broken off in front of his peace-seeking eyes._

"Oh God! Sooner or later all _life_ is a line broken off—very _badly_ if it breaks a monosyllable ( **bo-mb** , **ho-pe** , **gr-ief** ,); words of more than one syllable in between syllables ( **bom-ber** , **suic-ide** , **te-rro-rist** ); a one-letter syllable from the rest of the word ( **a-fraid** , **o-ver** , **loon-y** ); words of less than five letters ( **a-ny** , **i-dol** , **in-to** , **ve-ry** ,); an unpronounced **ed** off from the word ( **kill-ed** , **maim-ed** , **tortur-ed** ); elsewhere than between double consonants ( **coll-ateral** , **amm-unition** , **imm-oral** , **suff-ering** ). . . ."
**  
**

145. Why Must a Hyhen Indicate Division?

True, peaceful chicken, Henry Chicken Hawk,

Had learned: " 'Talks Off'ly, carry a big squawk"

From all the Palestinian-Israeli

Peace talks that were broken off near daily:

Soon as had one hyphenated side

Sworn, pledged its word, a break . . . and brokens died;

And each time they went at it so appalling,

Henry (who hawked Mid-East peace) thought falling

Down the sky above his hawkish head,

His hopes for Middle East peace all but dead.

He sighed to Peace, his true sweet hen in Haifa,

"Peace, my true dove. Dear God, for the life—ah,

Me! I can't see why, in _peace_ , these two

Can't give their word, like you and I, live tru—."

His "tru—" word broken off because a blow-up

Came between them, Henry could but throw up

( _Pieces!_ ) to see Peace, before his eyes

—Blown up. "I _see_ —God  **** [cries]

**To indicate die-vision of a word**

**That's _broken_ at the line's end**!" Broken bird.

His heart and soul gone, Henry could no longer bear to be in the hawking-peace line. Having seen Peace, his true Haifan love blown to pieces before his eyes, in the flesh and in the abstract, he came to see the hopeless futility of his quixotic dream: "It is so now, it has always been so, and shall ever be so: words of peace broken off at the end of a lin—" and all of the emotional barriers, the walls he had built up inside to keep the madness out, broke down, and he wept: "Oh God! All _life_ is a line broken off sooner or later—and very _badly_ broken off if, instead of ending the broken line, the breaking hyphen _begins_ _the following line_. And, oh, all the more horridly so if it breaks: a monosyllable ( **bo-mb** , **ho-pe** , **gr-ief** , **scrat-ched** , **thou-ght** , **schl-epped** ), which, like _all_ your commandments, shall not be broken under penalty of **de-ath** ; words of more than one syllable in between syllables ( **bom-ber** , **suic-ide** , **fundame-ntalist** , **ins-ane** , **mart-yr** , **te-rro-rist** ); a one-letter syllable from the rest of the word ( **a-fraid** , **o-ver** , **loon-y** ), thinking it a way to get **e-ven** ; words of less than five letters ( **a-ny** , **i-dol** , **in-to** , **ve-ry** , **ma-ny** , **al-so** ); an unpronounced **ed** off from the word ( **kill-ed** , **maim-ed** , **tortur-ed** , **fragg-ed** , **destroy-ed** ); elsewhere than between double consonants ( **coll-ateral** , **amm-unition** , **terr-orist** , **imm-oral** , **suff-ering** ). O Lord! If, in this Wasteland, there were only life and no breaking / If there were peace and no breaking we would stop and drink / But here is no peace, only breaking / The end of the line. / Here is the burial of the dead. / Come in under the shadow of this broken peace / And I will show you something different from either / Your line striding to be broken behind you / Or your line striding to be broken ahead of you. / If there were line and no—" **Bre-aking ne-ws** : **Ara-b-Isr-aeli** peace talks were badly **broke-n** off to—

**Break words at the end of the line by syllables and sound**

****

** **

****

_Fun_ _Split with_ ** _Dick and Jane_** _._

"Sob, Dick, _sob!_ See how we are all broken up—at the end of the line." "Look, Jane, look, any couple can break up, but not every one can break up according to how they sound (sad as can be). I mean, you can't just go breaking up at the end of the line, any place, can you? See how _we_ , reaching the end of the line, divided, our every **spo-ken** word __**bro-ken**." "SEE, Dick! SEE! how _some of us_ , all broken up inside, parted 'on the vowel'—reason enough to cry, being not a far cry from parting on the _avowal_! . . ."
**  
**

146. The End of the Line Come, They Broke Their Words

"Oh, look, Dick, _look_. With hope that love endows,

See us commit 'for life'; in line, our vows.

Two separate souls pursuing separate ends

Meet, fall in love, commit, as each intends,

For life. We _trust_ our word-bound dividend

(Togetherness, up till the very end)

Will be—oh see, Dick, _see_ , paid up in full;

That it should not is inconceivable.

As one (our word's our bond) we share communion:

Broken words could _never_ dash our union."

"Look, Jane, _look_. See how one can discern

That something in one wants to hit 'Return';

The _Go back!_ part of one's own 'for life' carriage

Craves return to single life pre-marriage

(Line's end). See how our 'word's we have spo-

ken are (sad sound) pronounced—hear, Jane, _hear_ —bro-

ken up inside now we have come to turn

To—look, Jane, _look_ —some split-up! See one learn

To **'Break words' at the 'end of the line' by**

**Their syllables, their sound**. _Hear_ , Jane, one cry!"

"Sob, Dick, _sob!_ See how we two, Dick and Jane, are broken up—at the end of the line—even as were Henry Chicken Hawk and his truest Haif hen Peace." "Yes, Jane, yes, it is true. But then they were too broken up to say into _how many_ pieces they were broken up, weren't they?" "Jerk, Dick, _jerk!_ At least they were not so broken up as not to _show_ they were broken up—like one _dick_ I know—or _thought_ I knew." "Look, Jane, look, I mean anyone, and I'm quite sure it goes double for a couple, can break up, but it's not everyone who can break up according to how they sound (sad as can be), now is it? I mean, Jane, you can't just go breaking up, when you reach the end of the line, any place willy-nilly, now can you? But look, Jane, look! See how _we_ , having reached the end of the line, divided—our every **spo-ken** word __**bro-ken**." "Yes, see, Dick—SEE! See how _some of us_ , despite being all broken up inside, took care to part 'on the vowel'—oh, reason enough to cry, _one_ could argue, being not a far cry at all from parting on the _avowal_! Oh, but more important, see how, in choosing to part ways on the end of avowals ( **bro** and **spo** ), this tragically spelled the beginning of the end for **ken** , who, starting out with but a single consonant, had to go start a new line—all by _himself_. Not a far cry from the beginning of the end of _consonance_ , the harmony that unites." "Hah! Jane, hah! I'll bet you Ken and Barbie wouldn't have known to break up there." "Look, jerk, LOOK at some other ways in which Jane did—and Dick _might_ _have_ —broken up at the end of the line: **tear-fully** , __**weep-ingly** , **heart-achingly**." "Look, Jane, look! Break dancing! Let's watch these kids and see if we can't learn some hip new break moves." "Look, _insensitive dick_ , __ LOOK! I—for _one—_ am as broken up as I can be at the end of the . . . the . . . _li-i-i-i-_ [her voice breaks] _._ "

26. Dashes

**_Dragoon,_** _n. A soldier who combines dash and steadiness in so equal measure that he makes his advances on foot and his retreats on horseback._

—Ambrose Bierce

_Follow not truth too near the heels, lest it dash out thy teeth._

—George Herbert

**The Rap Is I'm One— _Two_ —Dash Off a Laugh**

"The long and short of me is this: I come

In two convenient sizes (I'm not dumb

Enough to put my eggs—all—in one basket;

_One_ false step and I'd be in a casket!).

I'm a wrapper—that's right—Em 'n' Em;

Look how I wrapped 'that's right,' 'all'—each of them—

With two Em—Dashes. Who's as good as I

At wrapping things so parenthetic— _lie!_

'Some other mark [God, what a lot of trash!]

Can always better serve than can a Dash.'

"Hah! let them—any other mark—just try.

Who interrupts—as suddenly—as I?

And who— ** _Surpri-i-ise!_**—does that as I? No one!

Or lends emotion— _sob!_ —as I do? None!

And who can _rap_ as I—yes, En 'n' En—

Of my En–Dashing way _with dates_ —and then

Again with time—yes, who, come, tell me who

Can dash off all the Dashing things I do?

He? Hyphens? _That_ short, sawed-off bit of chaff?

_HE?_ Hee hee hee—let me dash off a laugh."

Yes, _he–he_ is right, class (sigh)—so very _very_ right. While anybody can be bipolar, it's quite another kettle of Dashes entirely to be bipunctuational, isn't it?—what? Yes, _two dashing marks of punctuation_. Thank you, Dashley. And that makes Dashes . . . well now let me just do the math to double check [the chalk squeaks rapidly across and down the blackboard]—yes, my theory was right, exactly _twice_ as Dashing: En–Dash and [sighs increase] Em—Dash. But now who can tell us how we can tell En–Dash and Em—Dash apart? Yes, letter perfect, Dashiell. _En–Dash is short and thin and stands on two legs, and Em—Dash is long and thin and stands on three legs_. Which shows they've both got their two feet on the ground—and one's got another. Yes, when one is hoping to be so dashed off her feet, she wants to know whether her dashing beau stands on two legs or three, but, more important, whether he stands on _ceremony_ , one traditionally associated with turning two into _one_ (sigh). And so she carefully scrutinizes these two altar egos:

**En–Dash:** Ooooh, _very_ cute. And I _love_ the way, on dates, he's so slim that two can get especially close (1863–1897). And, most appealing, between _any_ two times of the night or day (7:30 P.M.–2:45 A.M.), never complaining about the long Dashland–Spinsterhood commute. Oh joy! He's just proposed a big Dash–Spinster wedding, promising to unite us still further in certain compound-adjective constructions that are already hyphenated (the anti-being-single–pro-being-married period). And so thoughtful! He's planned the ultimate romantic honeymoon for us, getting us "ring"sighed seats at the Hulk Hogan–Randy "Macho Man" Savage–Jesse "The Body" Ventura–"Stone Cold" Steve Austin– "Nature Boy" Ric Flair Winner-Take-All Ultimate Smackdown. " _En–joy!_ " he coos.

**Em—Dash:** Oh my __ God—he's flat-out _gorgeous_! Oh, he sets me off, parenthetically, all right ("I wonder if she—God she's beautiful!—knows what a turn-on her high lace boots are?"). And I _love_ how, in place of a colon, he simply makes a mad dash ("That's what I've always loved about her—her granny dress."). _Look at him_ , standing there on his three legs. It's such a comfort knowing that, worse come to worst, he could always support me as a lowdown stoolie. And yet (the surprise! the emotion!)—he puts _me_ up on a pedestool! Yes, one could do worse than being _Mrs._ Stoolie. (The worst would be if one leg were shorter, and he wobbled in supporting me.)

Oh-h, darlings, En–Dash and Em—Dash being both Dashing dream dates, how ever shall I choose which is Mr. Dashingly Right for me—especially if each of them is sporting a provocatively eye-catching **dashiki** that's oh so—what? _What's a **dashiki**_? Well, I should have thought anyone would know it's a dashingly chic garment right out of 1,001 African nights traditionally worn by a _dashing sheik_ in wolf's clothing, colorfully loose, and very I catching (tell me, dear God, he will!). __ But now you've slyly got me dreaming on 1,001 African _mights_ —all to conveniently duck my all-consuming question: How ever shall I choose the dream date that's so dashingly right for me? Eh? Yes, I could choose straws, flip a coin, pluck the petals off a daisy, spin the bottle, or simply resort to saying, "Eenie meenie _mine_ ie . . . ." But then again, I'm _en_ tirely, _em_ phatically certain that I—and you—and you—and _you_ —would unerringly choose right by taking to heart

**The Novel Rules of Dashes**

**Job, God**

A dash best serves to set off an abrupt break

**Count Dracula**

Use a dash to announce a long appositive

**Mother Nature**

Use a dash to announce a summary

**Dash—Heel Hammett, Lillian Heel-Man**

Use a dash to indicate missing letters/connect combinations of letters and figures

**John E. Dash**

Choose between an en–dash and an em—dash

**Headmaster Knocksum-Senseintotheirblocks, Charles Dickens**

Only use a dash when some other mark of punctuation won't do

**A dash best serves to set off an abrupt break**

****

** **

****

_Befalling, stinging him like icy hail, the trials of_ ** _Job_** _dash him to the nethermost depths of despair, for which Job further suffers himself to read his job description to the Lord:_

" 'An old biblical put-upon whose full-time job was to patiently __ break out in boils—so God might get the sadistic pleasure of setting them off with a dash of sal—' Heaven help me! I'm reading the _Job_ description when it's the job description I want—to remind myself what a God-damned fool I was to apply for it. Here it is: _The successful sucker for punishment will be on the job 24/7—the time it took me to dash off the All. Racked with emphysema, tuberculosis, he'll be entitled— obligated—to endless coughy breaks . . ._" __
**  
**

147. Cold, Breaking Dashes Dashed Him to the Depths

Had Job then known the whole of the affliction

God had long baked in the Job description

(Endless trials to make him suffer, sob),

He'd not have put in for the God-damned job.

Ripe boils racked Job's raw flesh from head to toe;

Yet greater woe succeeded every woe;

No labor's agony was ever lonely;

No cough labored singly—not one only.

God had suffered labor law to make:

_Job, thou shalt have not **** one damned coughy break._

And yet, for all his trials and tribulations,

Job had earned, for all his troubles, patience.

It got so he'd hardly break a sweat

Each new affliction, much to God's regret.

_Yea, damn Job's patience—he shall break afresh._

_A dash of salt rubbed in his open flesh_

_Will make Job, tearful, break a sudden sweat._

_I've not been God, the God of Mercy yet,_

_To not have learned **A dash best serves to set off**_

**_An abrupt break_** _. BREAK, Job—wipe the sweat off!_

_DAMN Job!_ God thundered amain. _I can't underscore enough how much I damn him: he has a job to do—and I'm damned well going to see he does it—if I have to dash the All to pieces doing it._ _On the one hand I'm making Job try all ways to suffer. On the other hand I'm making him try all his patience. I didn't christen them the try-alls of Job for naught. Sometimes I think I should try to hand Job yet greater suffering—and I would try, were I not already trying him twice over. **I've only got two hands, for God's sake.** Meanwhile—and I couldn't be any meaner if I tried—I've got to get back on the job. _Suddenly, Job's skin, what unboiling little was left of it, broke out in a further agonizing head-to-toe eruption of pustulating boils, to which God, much pleased, gave a _Super!_ rating. Job sat agonizing over the job description: "An old biblical put-upon whose full-time job was to patiently __ break out in boils—just so God might get the sadistic pleasure of setting them off with a dash of sal—" Heaven help me! There I go again; reading the _Job_ description when it was the curst job description I wanted, if only to remind myself what a God-damned fool I was to apply for it (sigh). Ah, here it is: _The successful candidate, meaning one who has the patience of Job, will be on the job 24/7—the time it took me to create the All. And while he'll be entitled—nay, obligated—to take endless coughy breaks (he'll be racked with emphysema as well as hacking tuberculosis), the successful sucker for punishment—yea, let that be Job's job description—shall not suffer himself to take even one coffee break. _"Oh, God!" Job cried out in pain and misery. I put in for the job—only to be put _upon_. I've had all the affliction one s.f.p. can stand," whereupon he broke out in another rash of pustulating boils, which the God of Mercy gave a further _Super!_ rating.

**Use a dash to announce a long appositive**

****

** **

****

_Blood_ ** _Count Dracula_** _—the long A-positive, A-negative, B-positive, B-negative, AB-positive, AB-negative, O-positive, O-negative type—strikes again._

"What really sets my taste buds longing are long appositives _—_ words, phrases, or other linguistic constructions that refer to the same person or thing and serve as an explanatory equivalent, and have the same syntactic relationship to other sentence elements, hence are said to be in apposition to its equivalent. _PHEW!_ They make them bloody well _long_ for relief. But that's just me, Count Dracula—the vampire who is sick to bloody death of people who fail to address him by his registered _full_ name, Blood Count Dracula. . . ."
**  
**

148. His Dash Announced Each Long Appositive

Count Dracula as one who _loved_ his blood:

It couldn't come in too much of a flood,

As thick as mud, or thin as a French soup;

Of positive or negative blood group

To satisfy his bloodlust; thus, each night,

"Who's neckst?" was put on tap by his love bite.

"A, B, AB—three I've long __ drooled for, all;

But _O_ (slurp!)—that's a type a vamp could fall

In love with at first bite, and, in the main

(The left or right) will love me back, in _vein_.

"But _straight?_ No, I count such _blah_ blood at fault

—These bloody types that haven't bloody salt

Enough to suit my taste, so earn my 'dud' count.

So to add some bite, zest up such blood, Count

Dracula, I'll _dash_ my one blood gripe:

A dash, per pint, of salt in each blood type

Of negatives B, AB, O, but for

A-positives that make me long for _More!_

In these I'll **Use a** (taste is causative)

**Dash to an _ounce_ each long A-positive**.

"Yet there's one thing I'm _always_ bloody sure I can Count on—my bloodsucking ways, as they pertain to teaching A-type students puncturation, are more or less in vain, since blood tests reveal that A types are a very rare type, the majority of puncturees being C or C- types, an occasional B, and enough bloody Fs to so frustrate me as to leave quite the most _negative_ bad taste in my mouth. PHEW! But one thing I'm a positive-type vampire about (aside from the fact that you can't kill a vampire), is that what really sets my taste buds longing are long appositives _—_ words, phrases, or other linguistic constructions that refer to the same person or thing and serve as an explanatory equivalent, and have the same syntactic relationship to other sentence elements, hence are said to be in apposition to its equivalent. _PHEW!_ They make them bloody well long for relief. But that's just me, Count Dracula—the vampire who is sick to bloody death of people who fail to address him (when he's full of blood of whatsoever hematological type) by his duly registered _full_ name, replete with all officially conferred honorifics, Blood Count Dracula. The fact is, these long appositives are so long in satisfying my bloody good taste that I'm at pains to carry my salt barrel with me at all times in order to add a dash to announce to make each taste anything like _'Good!'_ Yet I must add a _Soups on!_ of salt to announce to render toothsome a long appositive—a terribly elongated, zestless, appositional renaming that leaves a most unpalatable 'bad taste!' in my mouth because it is so negatively short on good taste, and just keeps going on and on and on to the point where I've no bloody clue _when_ it will arrive at the bloody good taste I _so_ long for—a bloody good student who has the exquisite good taste to listen and learn throughout, and be long a positive role model."

**Use a dash to announce a summary**

****

** **

****

_A newborn world in her nurturing arms; the ephemeral beauty of seasonal flowers in her hair; the timeless intoxicating fragrance of old-growth redwoods all about her—of course:_ ** _Mother Nature_** _._

" _Spring_ has sprung / The grass is ris / In __ singsong _verse_ / My sighing is! Yes, I am most joyfully a verse to using a dash to announce the seasons, but at the same lovely times of the year, I am absolutely _averse_ to using one to announce a summ _a_ ry. So I'll just go on in my all-season manner, coming to me so naturally: (ahem) The bloom off the rose; the harvest in; plump, orange pumpkins heralding Halloween; the leaves turning colors and falling— _all_ just the most lovely signs, and sighings, that autumn has arrived. . . ." 
**  
**

149. Her Quick Dash Well Announced Her Summary

"I _do_ so love my seasons—each is dear,

And so I bring each one round once each year,"

Sighed Mother Nature, " _Love_ to bring them more,

But each year says, 'Thanks, but my limit's four.

They crowd each other where they end, begin,

And it's all I can do to squeeze four in!'

So come spring, fall, with equal day/night blocks

Of vernal and autumnal equinox;

Come summer/winter solstice (these are clear:

The longest/shortest day of every year)

"I let all know, by length of day and night,

'Hey, _the new season's_ _here!_ ' more, I'll recite

By way of falling leaves—'Oh, yes, by golly

(Sigh), the season now is clearly fally';

Next, by weigh of snow that's bright and glintry,

Ice that's splintry—'Now the season's wintry';

Next, with all the birds/bees wingy/stingy,

Lovers dingy—'Now the season's springy.'

I then **Use** (more season flummery)

**A dash** (sigh) **to announce '—a summery**.'

"Yes, I am most joyfully a verse to using a dash to announce the seasons," Mother Nature effused on; "but at the same lovely times of the year, I am absolutely _averse_ to using one to announce a summ _a_ ry. It is simply in my nature to feel that a summ _a_ ry is just too . . . too . . . well, pros _a_ ic for me to wax lyrical over and get my versatile Motherly emotions all worked up in such a gay, singsongy way. So if you'll excuse me, I'll just go on now in my all-season pros _y_ manner, coming to me so naturally: (ahem) The bloom off the rose; the harvest in; plump, orange pumpkins heralding Halloween; the leaves turning color and falling— _all_ just the most lovely signs, and sighings, that autumn has arrived. . . ." And they went on falling for months. Then: "Trees bare of leaves; birds winging south; salt trucks plying their way up and down city streets; my fragrant, lovely Christmas trees going every which way on the roofs of cars—you couldn't have purchased maybe a _live_ one?—yes, the heartwarming signs of winter, like my lovely blanket of snow, are over all (sigh) . . . ," which she did for three chill months more. Then one day (she's all excited): "Snow melting! streams flowing! birds singing! bees buzzing! trees budding!— _Spring_ has sprung / The grass is ris / In __ newborn _verse_ / My sighing is!" Then three months later: "Sun beating, flowers blooming, gardens growing, daylight savings—yes, it's clear! I'm womanifesting sighings of its being, yes, a warm, a golden, a suntanny, a . . . a . . . a . . . no, I'm not about to sneeze, but, oh dear! I need _one_ more 'a . . .'-word to announce just what _kind_ of season it is. _Ah!_ I'm in peak season training so, without further 'a . . .'dew, in a world-record-breaking burst of emotion, yes, all natural (no performance-enhancing emotions for me), watch me now as I dash for season gold and announce—a summ _e_ r _y_!"

**Use a dash to indicate missing letters/connect combinations of letters** **and figures**

****

** **

****

**_Dash—Heel Hammett and Lillian Heel-Man_** _in one of their together moments._

"I can't remember a time when there wasn't a dash, either an en–dash or an em—dash, between Dash and me. I'd friends in Haifa, but I couldn't bring myself to go there. Too close to 'hyphen.' That's where the hang-up was, really. I only had a miserable _hyphen_ in my compound name, Heel-Man, not even an en– dash, while Dash—Heel had a g—d—d full-blown _em—dash,_ the b—d! I never had that other envy. With me it was always Dash envy. During one of our periods (1948–1950), and distances (0–5,832 miles) apart . . ." 
**  
**

150. They Both Used Dashes for Their Letters, Figures

His (Dash—Heel Hammett's) gumshoe dash appeal

For women was he cut a Dashing Heel

Of (sigh) a figure each pulp-fiction page,

Thus cutting a most Dashing personage

In hard-boiled dick; the Continental Op;

The quintessential private-sleuthing cop;

_The_ _Thin Man_ 's Nick Charles (Nora had it made);

_The Maltese Falcon_ 's ultra-cool Sam Spade.

A dame just knew, with each pulp gumshoe tough,

That Dash—Heel Hammett (sigh) had the write stuff.

What could Miss Lillian Heel-Man do but fall

Head over heels for such a Dashing tall,

Thin man: "Miss, you've a letter-perfect figure,

Missing letters, I could Dash (less b—gg—r),

Off its feet—and _yours_ —with Dash appeal."

She fell—"It _figures_!"—for the Dashing Heel.

He knew to **Use a Dash to indicate**

(Sigh) **missing letters**—oooh, _some_ Dashing mate!—

**And join** [with Dash— _Heel!_ He _would_ have to "dig" hers]

**Combinations** (sigh) **of letters— _"Figures_** ** _!_ "**

"We got together—parted; got together—parted. It's the story of our lifelong relationship (1929–1961), really. I can't remember a time when there wasn't a dash, either an en–dash or an em—dash, between Dash and me." So Miss Lillian Heel-Man began her best-telling memoir, _Dashed!_ "During one of our longer periods (1948–1950), and distances (0–5,832 miles) apart, I awoke to find myself in cold-war Moscow. I don't know what I was doing in Moscow, really. Living a life of intrigue, I suppose, trying to be someone straight out of a Dash—Heel Hammett novel. I was lonely January–March 1949, and I carried on an affair with another dashing American expatriate, John M—. I'm not trying to protect his identity. I never knew it, really. Funny, isn't it? But it wasn't then. Dash—Heel had his g—d—d affairs. Don't get me wrong; I'm no prude. It's just that I miss Dash—so very terribly—and using dashes seems to keep me connected to him. I'd friends in Haifa, but I couldn't bring myself to go there. Too close to 'hyphen.' That's where the hang-up was, really. I only had a miserable _hyphen_ in my compound name, Heel-Man, not even an en– dash, while Dash—Heel had a g—d—d full-blown _em—dash,_ the b—d! I never had that other envy. With me it was always Dash envy. Moscow was a real b—. There never were two more tragic figures of American letters. Dash was so dashing that God made it a hard and fast rule ( _Life is hard—and fast it goes / As each—their figures joined—well knows_ ), dashing it off in stone: _Dash—Heel Hammett (1894–1961)_. I don't know when I'll depart this life [Goditor's note: _Lillian Heel-Man (1905–1984)_ ], but I'm damned sure God will say, _Yea, those two were so very good to use a dash to indicate missing letters and words, and to join combinations of letters and figures, so verily I told them both to go_ _to H—._ "

**Choose between an en–dash and an em—dash**

****

** **

****

_"Hello, I'm_ ** _John E. Dash_** _, the dashing Man in Black and White—and here I am strolling the Queen Mary's promenade deck on a hot summer day—in thick black wool trench coat, and lugging a heavy-steel-string guitar, circa '56–'57._

"Long Beach. I must be John _Em_ —Dash." "Not so fast, John E. While you _are_ in Long Beach, you are in the Long Beach–La Habra–Seal Beach area code—all of which are separated by _en_ –dashes. So you must be John _En_ –Dash." "But you just used an _em_ —dash." "Yes, but the _Queen Mary's_ address is 1126–9982 Queen's Hwy., Long Beach, CA 90802–90804 (a very long boat). Note the _en_ –dashes." "Dash it—she's a _ship_. And __ don't I _know_ she's long? Didn't I have a hit—a major hit—with 'I Walk the Liner'? . . ."
**  
**

151. He Had Some Split-Dash Personality

"Hello, I'm John E. Dash," the Man in Black,

As soon as he walked out on stage, would crack,

"—And _no_ , it doesn't stand for, my big E

Dot, 'E.gomaniac.' The truth is, see,

When I was born my folks could not decide

If I was twice as long (—) or half as wide (–).

'Well, Father,' Mother said, 'I favor "En"

Because, you see, he's half as short again

As "Em." ' 'Well, Mother, since he's one of them

Who'll soon be twice as _long_ —I favor "Em." '

"So Mother said, 'The fairest thing to do,

Since we're at odds, is up and call him "Sue." '

But Father saw the hell my life would be

As Sue. They settled on the letter E.

So to this very day I, John E. Dash,

Will hire myself out, when short of cash,

As John En–Dash; and when I long for more,

As John Em—Dash. As either, fans adore

Me. They've long known (short wads of concert cash)

To **Choose between an En–Dash and Em—Dash**.

John E. awoke to find himself in yet another strange hotel room, still dressed in his stock Man in Black typography. Instinctively, he reached for the phone book. "Long Beach," his deep baritone voice sang out. "I must be John _Em_ —Dash." "Not so fast, John E.," his other voice, only half as deep (later identified as his alter E.go), intoned. "You may be—then again you may not. While you _are_ in Long Beach, you are in the Long Beach–La Habra–Seal Beach (to name just a few) area code—all of which call for (at least they're local calls) being separated by _en_ –dashes. Thus, you must be John _En_ –Dash." "But you just used an _em_ —dash to mark an abrupt interruption in the sentence." "Yes, but look at the address of the _Queen Mary_ —1126–9982 Queen's Hwy., Long Beach, CA 90802–90804 (it's a very long boat). Note the _en_ –dashes in the address and zip code." "Dash it all—she's a _ship_ , not a boat! Besides, you just used an _em_ —dash in place of a colon after _Queen Mary_. And don't I just _know_ she's long. Didn't I have a hit—a very major hit—with 'I Walk the Liner'?" "Yes, but what you're obviously overlooking is that from the laying of her keel to her launching (1931–34), she was only completed as a result of the Cunard–White Star merger. Designed to carry 2100–2200 passengers, she was converted to a troop ship during WWII (1939–45) and carried 10,000–15,000 troops, and logged 550,000–600,000 miles during her wartime service." "Yes, but she was built by John B— and Co. Ltd.—and during the Great Depression at that—which was one d— of a time." "Oh, God, I'm hearing voices again," John E.'s inner voice sang in. "Yes, but John E–, _John E—,_ " the voices of John En–Dash and John Em—Dash sang out, "the E. question is, short (–) or long (—), do our E.goless voices do 'Hello, I'm John E. Dash' _proud_?"

**Only use a dash when some other mark of punctuation won't do**

****

** **

****

**_Headmaster Knocksum-Senseintotheirblocks_** ** __**_does not spare the rod on_ ** _Charles Dickens_** _._

"What other mark of punctuation could so typo _graphically_ convey all the head-ringing flourish of the dash, and in the same fell stroke— _come down on the dummkopf again!_ —serve as such a tangible metaphor for the rod, that much-revered biblical instr—eh, how's that, Master Dickens? _Doesn't the exclamation mark(!) look more like a rod coming down on a poor student's small, helpless head—which is probably trying its very best to learn—than a dash?_ Wait for it. . . . _—There!_ Perhaps that will knock some sense into . . ." 
**  
**

152. A Dash When All the Other Marks Won't Do

Headmaster Knocksum-Senseintotheirblocks,

Headmaster of the old School of Hard Knocks,

Taught young Charles Dickens all the punctuation

Ever he'd need for each situation

Life demanded, and, for starting traumas,

Belted Charles—with both pause (taught him commas),

Furthering, by jabs, his education

( _Painful_ these sharp marks of exclamation),

Clubbing him, between, with myriads

Of question marks; then, hurling periods

( _Ouch!_ ), stung him raw—oh yes, in Dickens' day,

They learned their punctuation the hard way.

Today there's no such discipline in schools,

And kids today know _Punkturation rules!_

Rings piercing ( _Ai!_ ) the eyebrow and the tongue,

The nose, the ear now punkturate the young

—But not a dash of _punc_ tuation; fashion

Dictates: "Look, you **Only use a dash** — _one—_

**When some other** piercing-you-right-through

Type **mark of punktuation just won't do**."

_"God save the rod!"_ Headmaster Knocksum-Senseintotheirblocks flung into the room. "And I defy anyone to tell me that a comma(,), semicolon(;), colon(:), period(.), question mark(?), or exclamation mark(!) will do in place of a dash(—) to look for all the world like a rod in the very act of coming down— _hard_ —on some less-than-punctilious head in order to put a _Ring-g-g-g!_ through this punc's unknows. What other mark of punctuation could so typo _graphically_ convey all the head-ringing flourish of the dash, and in the same fell stroke— _come down on the dummkopf again!_ —serve as such a tangible metaphor for the rod, that much-revered biblical instrument of discip—eh, how's that, Master Dickens? _Doesn't the exclamation mark(!) look more like a rod coming down on a poor student's small, helpless head—which is probably trying its very best to learn—than a dash?_ Well now, if you'll just bear with me while this time-honored instrument of discipline comes dashing down on your unlearning head, and gives you the very Dickens, putting a ring through all your big _unknows_ , you'll have your answer—and bloody good reason to know that if I'd used the two-piece exclamation mark(!) in place of the dash, I wouldn't have had it to use right _after_ the rod __ to so graphically represent the shock, pain, _humiliation_ coming out of the 'dot,' the know-nothing's head— _serves you bloody right!—_ would I? Yes, if I spared you such kop-ringing discipline, we'd soon find ourselves in _punk_ tilious times—all for the sparing of the rod, and the consequent spoiling of the child! Yes, some day you'll appreciate its coming down on you so blessed hard in these hard times, Master Charles, and giving you the very Dickens—and understand that I just _had_ to use a dash to knock some sense into your block. A less pointed mark of punk tuition just wouldn't do."

27. Virgules

_How old am I? I knew Doris Day before she was a virgule._

—Oscar LeSlant

_Abortion as a political-slash-legal issue will be back._

—John Ashcroft

****

**What, Slash My _Wrists_ For You, Love? _All_ of Me**

"Oh, I am quite the Latin rake, am I:

I get close, then I lean right in ( _me_ shy?)

And whisper, 'Sweetest [this right in her ear],

I'd _die_ to separate the month/day/year

For you—as no one's ever done before,

And when I've done, love, separate the more

(As I/you _never_ ) the denominator

In a fraction from the numerator;

Only glance upon my rakish stand,

I'll _die_ to substitute for **per/or/and** ;

" 'More, substitute for—no, that word erase;

I'll _sacrifice_ myself in hyphen's place

For you; as token of my adoration

I'll _appear_ to show pronunciation,

And to show—for all the world to see—

Line breaks in quoted lines of poetry

For you, plus act as a (God, love is blind!)

Division operator; just the kind

Who'll, sweet (my _truest_ proof of love's excesses),

Be there for you (internet addresses).' "

_Oh dear_ —I feel I'm going to swoon/faint/black out! Isn't Virgules, our virgule/slash/oblique/solidus/diagonal/separatrix/shilling mark/stroke/forward slant/scratch comma just the _most_ romantic of Latin lovers? Yes, it's no wonder he has so many rakish aliases: he needs every one—if only to rake up the wrinkled, lifeless old leaves—yes, those he has so callously _left_ raked over the coals, his only apology, if you could call it that, being a typical "Hey, look, nothing personal, but I've just gotta move forward with my life, know what I mean?" Yes, I know _just_ how mean he can be, as you can well imagine—no, you _can't_ imagine. Oh! bleak, _bleak_ is my future for having been disobliged by my precious oblique; devastated am I to be scratched by my dear, beloved scratch comma; stricken with grief for having been struck down by such a fell stroke; sick at heart now for a day solid at the melting away of my sweet solidus; dying of agony over the loss of my darling diagonal; as good as in my sepulcher as a result of being coldly separated from the only separatrix that ever meant anything to me. And what a _mark_ was I for shelling out all my love to this shilly-shallying shilling mark in all his altar egos! Yet I might have borne the humiliation and loss if he'd only left me standing there. But, no, he had to callously _fell_ me at a stroke! Hopelessly downhearted, I am on the verge of slashing my risks of ever being hurt again for his slashing the ties that bind—and beating it. But of course like any victim of domestic virgulence, I heavily slant toward forgiving my serial forward slant and taking him right back because, after all, I can't really blame Virgules, can I? No, he himselves is but a typical mark of the Creator: a weak and fallible rake who's only acting in response to his—what? _How come the punchuation marks are always "he"?_ Well now it only stands to logical reason, doesn't it? Other than their being, yes, every _single_ one, punctuation _marks_ (sigh), have you ever known one of the feminine gender to even come close to being punctual? Now where was I? Oh yes, Virgules is only acting in response to his inherent God-given regulations slash dictums slash laws slash _man_ dates (sigh) slash

**The Novel Rules of Virgules**

**Virgule, Augustus Caesar**

Use a virgule to: indicate a line break when quoting multiple lines of poetry; separate the month/day/year in dates; separate the numerator and denominator in a fraction; act as a division operator; substitute for a hyphen; substitute for _per/or/and;_ show pronunciation; write internet addresses

**Use a virgule to indicate a line break when quoting multiple lines of poetry . . .**

****

** **

****

_Roman poet/bard_ ** _Virgule_** _recites his ode/poem to Augustus Caesar, causing Octavia to faint/swoon/pass out, or perhaps she just fell asleep/crashed/caught some shuteye._

__

"Augustus Caesar, since you've put me on the spot/situation like this, what can I/Virgu _l_ e do but compose an ode/poem on the spot/locus, the opening lines of which run: 'Ye gods! Augustus Caesar he was some / Kind of an emperor/dictator, um / What more to say? Oh, yes, well he was born / In 63 B.C.— _one_ splendid morn!' " " _Uh-uh_ , not so fast, Where do you think all ten of _you_ are going?" "Er, I, uh, thought since I had written/composed your—" "Well I've just thought of lots _more_ ways to employ a Virgu _l_ e, haven't I? . . ."
**  
**

153. He Slashed Away and Got His Ode/Song Done

The Roman poet Virgu _l_ e, thought to be

The greatest Roman poet B.C.E.

(Before Computers Era), had to, then,

Write all his slashes with an _old quill pen_.

(The horror!) _"Tempus fugit!"_ Virgu _l_ e cried.

"Time flies! I've got to get, before I've died,

My slashes written." So he slashed away

By Roman night and more by Roman day.

What made pure hell his forward-slant campaign

Was this was in Augustus Caesar's reign.

Augustus summoned Virgu _l_ e: "I must use

Your services—there is no time to lose!

I'm one more in a long _dust_ inguished line

Of emperor/dictators—pen a fine

Ode/poem to me for when the worm's turned

My line break _into dust_ —Lord/God! I've learned

To **Use a Virgu _l_ e (a) to indicate**

**A line break** —slash (the _end_ of potentate!)

**When quoting multiple**—so all can see

How my line's broken!— **lines of poetry**."

Well, put on the spot/situation like that, what could Virgu _l_ e do but compose a poem on the spot/locus, the opening lines of which run: "Ye gods! Augustus Caesar he was some / Kind of an emperor/dictator, um / What more to say? Oh, yes, well he was born / In 63 B.C.—one splendid morn!" _Owed to Augustus Caesar_ completed, Virgu _l_ e began bowing/scraping his way backwards out of Augustus's presence. " _Uh-uh_ , not so fast, you slash-backwards/oblique/solidus/diagonal/separatrix/shilling mark/stroke/forward slant/scratch comma/Virgu _l_ e," Augustus barked. "Where do you think all ten of _you_ are going?" "Er, I, uh, thought since I had written/composed your—" "Well I've just thought of lots _more_ ways to employ a Virgu _l_ e, haven't I? namely, to (b _)_ separate the month/day/year in dates: 3/15/44 B.C.E. (the Ides of March); (c) separate the numerator from the denominator in a fraction: you're not _1/10_ the man I am; (d) act as division operator: x = y/c (y divided by c); (e) substitute for a weak hyphen to make a clearer, stronger connection between words and phrases: the Brutus/Cassius conspiracy; (f) substitute/stand in for _per_ : ten times/day; _or_ : the life/death choice; or _and_ : the poet/painter/philosopher; (g) show pronunciation: _Virgule_ is pronounced / **Vir** -gyool/; and as soon as Webus Interneticus gets off his lazy glutei maximi and invents the internet long before Algoricus, to (h) designate internet addresses: http://augustuscaesar.com/rome/imperialpalace/myspace." Poor Virgu _l_ e had never felt so sick/ill-used in his life. "If I didn't have my numerous Eclogues/pastoral poems and Georgics/farm poems, as well as the _Aeneid_ , to write; if I didn't believe that _Omnia vincit amor_ /love conquers all; that fortune favors the brave, I'd forward slash my bloody wrists right now/at this damned space in time, and be done/finished with it all."

28. Parentheses

_Her eyebrows are clipped parentheses, and she paints her face for the last days of the Weimar Republic._

—Paul Gardner on the Divine Miss M

**One Bound (by Law) to Bring the Topic Cup**

"Not one to brag (I _had_ to bring this up,

By law), I've won the Parenthetic Cup,

Yes, each year, I'll just say, since I was born

(I never was one to blow my own horn)

With _two_ good hands (the best God ever made

I'm told) for cupping (not that _I_ 'd have paid

Myself this high praise) comments, afterthoughts,

_Plus_ explanations, references (lots

Would boast, but not me, seeking no applause)

—Including mathematic formulas.

"Hmmph, commas try to cup the things I do,

But their hands are so small things slip right through;

Then dashes try their hands—but all things slip

('You can't cup things with just your _fingertips_!'

I cry). For all that commas, dashes try,

They can't cup things as flawlessly as I.

I'd crow, 'I'm cup-supreme—oh, quite the _most_!'

(The law of averages says one will boast.)

I don't, though; I don't have the boasting flaw.

(I only bring this up 'cause it's the law.)"

Yes, and another thing the law of averages says, my little parent theses (they think you're caused by . . .), is that Parentheses is never so happy as when he's holding something in his hands, and wearing a smile [ **(** ] on the aside of his face, and another [ **)** ] on the other aside. What? _What's an aside?_ Well, if you _must_ know, it's a digression from the main point—like certain _questions_ —isn't it? Yes, with a smile on both asides of his face he—what? _How do we know they're not frowns?_ Well now they would only be frowns if he were cupping something in his hands that he's none too happy about holding—such as _someone who asks too many questions—_ wouldn't they? Meaning, on average, that of the two asides of his face, one parenthesis [ **(** ] is a smile, and the other [ **)** ] a frown (unless it's the other way around). What's that? _How can Paremfeses be one when there are two of him?_ Well, that's because he has solid precedent: the Greek philosopher Socrates was only one; yet, as we well know, he was way _too_ much for Athenian high muckamucks. What's more, he, too (like Parentheses), had two hands in which they sentenced him to cup something (a cup of hemlock), the drinking of which caused him to die (the ultimate digression from the main point—life) a horrible, agonizing death.

But look here, now that you've railroaded me off onto this aside track, it's as good a time as any to tell you about the different asides that _Paremfeses_ cups in his hands with such fatal (if not so endearing) results:

**Writer's comments:** So there I was, lost in thought, scribbling away (I hadn't the least idea where I was; I knew only that I was no longer at home) when (finally!) __ the rescue team found me (thank God!).

**Explanation:** There was a two-foot-long icicle hanging from my nose, I was shivering uncontrollably, and I was blue from head to toe. (I had a bad cold at the time.)

**Afterthought:** My nose was terribly frostbitten (at least I think it was _my_ nose).

**Definition:** Apparently I'd been working on a novel (a kind of fiction which, ever since the first, contains nothing novel), because they found this "Formula One" etched on the back of my hand: "Sex; drugs; money; power; corruption; scandal; plagiarism; repeat."

**Reference:** According to Mario Andretti ( _Formula One Racing_ , ch.10, pg.1), I should have crossed the finish line many times, since my characters all led checkered careers.

**Translation:** I looked at him and said, _"Pit **tu** , Brut?" _( **You** in the pits, too, Brutus?)

**Internal Punctuation:** Medics checked my blood (by sticking, read _jabbing_ , a long, sharp, clean[?]—at least the nurse [or was she just a nurse's aide?] _said_ it was clean—needle in my arm) for novel-enhancing drugs.

**Authority:** I have it on unimpeachable authority (the author) that you are going to cup in your arms, lovingly embrace, and forever hold dear

**The Novel Rules of Parentheses**

**Parents**

Enclose parenthetical expressions in parentheses

**Father and Mother Christmas**

Use parentheses to enclose material only remotely connected with its context

**Daddy Warbucks, Li'l Endorphin Annie**

Use parentheses to enclose sums of money when accuracy is wanted

**Alexandre Dumas fils, Alexandre Dumas père**

Parentheses always come in pairs

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Brackets**

**Reginald Perrín, C. J.**

Use brackets to enclose parentheses within parentheses

**Enclose parenthetical expressions in parentheses**

****

** **

****

_Typical_ ** _parents_** ** __**_assuming their timeless role of parentheses enclosing their No. 1 parenthetical thought._

"We parents are parenthetical (enclosing) creatures: whenever we have a thought, we keep it (excepting it's gossip) between our ears (fleshy appendages on either side of our heads). Yet anthropologists (scientists who study man) theorize that these have for some millennia now been vestigial (functionless) since thoughts (ideas) long ago discovered that a far larger, easier means of egress (a parent's big mouth) is more often open than closed, and almost totally concerned with what is going in rather than coming out. . . ."
**  
**

154. They Wrapped Their Theses in Parentheses

"We parents think of our kids all the time:

Throughout their childhood, youth, and well past prime.

No parent day goes by, much less a night,

We don't hypothesize, in joy—in fright—

Of what they are, of what, in time, they'll be;

Of how, and where, they are—and when we'll see

Them; and how well they think of _us_ , in turn

—Or _not_ so well! of what respect we'll earn

For our solicitudes, each thought a thesis

Fraught of theory wrought in exegesis.

"Yet each one remains, throughout the years,

Between those two parentheses, our ears,

M'ear speculations wrapped up in digressions,

Each but hypothetical impressions

Deep inside concerns kept on the shelves

Of theory, and so kept all to ourselves,

_Our_ _secrets_ (Shhh! keep mum about them—all!

Dad, _you_ must be as unconfessional

— _Don't speak! _**Wrap parent-thetic thoughts** i **n parent**

**Theses**. Dear, let nothing slip. We daren't.

" _So true_ , dear, thus no surprise that we are, by nature, parenthetical (enclosing) creatures: whenever we have a thought, we keep it (excepting it's gossip, of course) snugly between our ears (fleshy, more or less matching, appendages on either side of our heads that serve as thoughtkeepers). Yet in this modern eara [ _sick_ ] anthropologists (scientists who study humankind) theorize that these fleshy whorls have for some millennia now been vestigial (functionless) since thoughts (ideas, plans, concepts, notions, and opinions, the end result of thinking) discovered a long time ago that a far larger, much easier means of egress (a parent's big mouth) is more often open than closed, and almost totally concerned with what is going in rather than coming out. At such rare times as the mouth (a wide orifice conveniently positioned midway between the ears where, it is theorized, thoughts are held briefly before release) is closed, thoughts found they could get out as easily by way of either corresponding hand (an instrument of expression often found clutching one of the same: pencil, pen, paintbrush, etc.), or all the more manifestly through _both_ hands at once via (recently) the keyboard, and (as of old) _strangulation_. Thoughts soon learned that it wouldn't be long before we parental units (Mother and Father) would need to express just what we ('the Old Man,' 'the Old Lady,' the 'rents' [for shame!]) thought about their not doing their homework, talking back to teacher (a selfless, much undervalued factotum), cutting classes (truancy), and would thus need to have the truant officer (the _bad_ cop of education) take these snotnoses by the ear (one of a matched pair of auditory instruments useless at containment) and put them behind bars (closely spaced straight iron rods that strong-willed thoughts bend [ ( ) ] just as easily as kids do parents to effect their escape)."
**  
**

**Use parentheses to enclose material only remotely connected with its context**

****

** **

****

**_Father and Mother Christmas_** _rap their gums as they deceitfully wrap their children's presents (criminals often say, "I got a bum rap") and share their annual Christmas Eve laugh._

"Father, the kids will soon unwrap their remote-controlled Mctoys (the _McCoys_ were an Appalachian hillbilly clan who feuded with the Hatfields) and emote _Boo-hoo!_ They'll cry themselves to sleep, wake up, and emote all over again." "Oh we certainly are blessed (the Bible's full of 'blessed's) to have such re-emote-controlled children." "True, Father, but those 'blessed's were _blest_ , with a _'t'_ (a spot of tea would be nice now). . . ." "You said a mouthful, Mother. But lucky for us this is not a problem (Einstein, they say . . .)"
**  
**

155. Remote Was Their Enwrapped Material

"We, Father/Mother Christmas, come our Eve

( _Shhh! hush!_ ), conspire, Mother, to deceive

Our young ones who are tucked up in their beds

With visions of the blest day in their heads."

"A sneaky pair, their presents we now wrap,

Which wrapping, Father, they'll tear off and scrap

Come morn—" "For each a _'Coo-o-ol!'_ Mattel Remote-

Controlled Hot Wheels®—" " 'The Real McCoy!' unquote."

"These life-size boxes wrapped with tape, not string—"

"Will make each think they're getting the _real_ thing."

"We snicker as we wrap them, Mother." "Father

C., What makes this old ruse worth the bother

Is (tee hee) the old heartwarming thought—"

"Each child will, once again, think he/she's got

The real deal: (' _Look!_ —it says so on the box!')—"

"Then they'll unwrap each (tears, sobs heard for blocks)

To find the real Mc _toy_ , to find their 'rents'

(Sob!) **Use pair-rent (the C.'s) to** (innocents!)—"

" **Enclose Matt(teary)el connected but**

**Remotely with its con text** —" (" _Shhh!_ Keep shut!")

__

"Ho ho ho, isn't this just the most _wonderful_ Christmas tradition, Mother!" "It certainly is, Father. The kids no sooner unwrap their remote-controlled Mctoys (the _McCoys_ were an Appalachian hillbilly clan who feuded with the Hatfields) and they emote _Boo-hoo!_ They cry themselves to sleep, and when they wake up they so emote all over again." "Oh we certainly are blessed (the Bible's full of 'blessed's) to have such re-emote-controlled children." "True, Father, but those 'blessed's were _blest_ , with a _'t'_ (a spot of tea would be nice now). And we being such blessed-with-a-'d'-for-'deceit' pair-rents, we wrap up their presents (Mrs. Boxer says parentheses that wrap up thoughts only remotely connected to their context are on sale), only to have the lot unwrapped come the blessed day." "You said a mouthful, Mother. But lucky for us this is not a problem (Einstein, they say, was very good at solving problems) since we can wrap and wrap and still rap our gums at the same time." "Not only that, dear, but we wrap wrap rap things up so carefully, you and I, that nothing can ever be taken out of context." "Though much can be, Mother, and _is_ , hee hee hee, taken out of _con text_ , like the misleading advertising on the box." "I can see their jaws dropping even now, Father, as we two sit here wrap wrap rapping (it was a raven, I believe, that came rap-rap-rapping on the poet's chamber door as he lay nap-nap-nap—)" "Mother, If I'm not much mistaken that raven came _tap-tap-tapping_ —but far be it from me to quote that felicitous passage lest I be accused of taking Poe's rap out of con-text (the pyramids are yet wrap-wrap-wrapped in mystery), only to utter, ' _Quoth_ he'—which would be quite out of character for Father Christmas, so slyly wrap-wrap-rapped up with deceiving his children—" "That he's not even _remotely_ connected with their happiness."

**Use parentheses to enclose sums of money when accuracy is wanted**

****

** **

****

_It's her sixteenth birthday, and_ ** _Li'l Endorphin Annie_** _is wishing, hoping, praying for Acura-see; but Daddy Warbucks has a couple of pay-rent theses that he is confident will keep her from being Acurate._

"All I want in life is Acura-see—and what do I get? A lot of depressing redundancy, as if it's _accuracy_ I want. Daddy Warbucks has got like a gazillion dollars **($1+2 many zeros to count)** —yet his own Li'l Endorphin Annie, whose every orphan endorphin is wishing, hoping, praying for _Acura-see_ , hasn't one bean ( **1b** ) let alone one thin dime **(1thd)** , one-tenth of a dollar **($0.10)**! What's a hundred fifty thousand $imoleons **($150,000.00)** for a top-of-the-line Acura to him? A lot, I guess, because he didn't make me _Acurate_. . . ."
**  
**

156. Parentheses When Accuracy's Wanted

Old Daddy Warbucks got his affluence

By hanging onto all his common cents.

His orphan daughter, Li'l Endorphin Annie

(Flush with peptide hormones in some cranny

Of her cranium beneath her mop

Of red hair that was growing out its top),

Was higher now than ever since she'd got

Her driver's license. "Daddy's _surely_ bought

Me—yes, my sugar pay-rent's surely paid

Big bucks for some sweet present ride—in _jade_!

"A Top-of-the-line _Acura_ 'd release

Endorphins in me that would never cease,

For all they'd see me, my green friends, drive by.

A must-see, __ then, this 'no _-end_ 'orphin high!"

But Daddy schemed: "My pair of hording theses

(Two) will keep them _mine—my_ money species:

(1) First, wrap your bucks ( _all_ ) with these two

To keep them; (2) **Use 'pay-rent' theses to**

**Enclose** (so Annie sees no 'green,' ride flaunted)

**Money sums when Acura-see's wanted**."

"Well tha-ats tough . . ." the lyric began playing over and over in Li'l Endorphin Annie's head when she didn't get her Acura-see, "Wha-a-at's tough? / Life / Wha-a-at's Life? / A magazi-ine / How much does it cost? / It costs twenty cents **(20c)** / I've only got a nickel **(.05)** / A _nickel **(5c)**_! Oh-h-h-h whoa / Well tha-at's tough . . . ." It was bad enough being reminded over and over she didn't have one measly red cent ( **1mrc** ) to her name, making her bluer and bluer; but every time the not-so-merry-go-round came round to money **($+c)** , it just had to rub it in _twice_ by being parenthetically redundant. For all she started out on an endorphin high, each maddening repetition of the "tha-ats tough" lyric made Li'l Endorphin Annie lower and lower. "Now I know why the 'lowest' unit of currency in Italy and Turkey is called the _lira._ All I want in life is a little Acura-see—and what do I get? A lot of depressingly redundant and superfluous _lyrics_ running round and round in my head—as if it were _accuracy_ I had in mind. Daddy Warbucks has got like a gazillion dollars **($1+2 many zeros to count)** —yet his own Li'l Endorphin Annie, whose every orphaned endorphin is wishing, hoping, praying for _Acura-see_ , hasn't so much as one bean ( **1b** ) let alone one thin dime **(1thd)** , one-tenth of a dollar **($0.10)** to her name! What's a hundred and fifty thousand $imoleons **($150,000)** for a top-of-the-line Acura to him? A lot, apparently, because he didn't make me _Acurate_. Some rent! I without one stinking copper ( **1sc** ) to my name had to put my all, one dolor ( **1d** ), down on a spanking new jade-green Acura in order to see _red_ ( **15,000,000rc** ). Now Acura's dunning me over and over for the hundred and fifty grand **(150Gs)** , and I, Li'l Endorphin Annie, see how bluer than blue such parenthetic monetary redundancy (money! money! money!) can make one ( **1** )."

**Parentheses always come in pairs**

****

** **

****

**_Alexandre Dumas père_** _, unfeeling lord of Chateau de Monte Cristo, lays his pair of pay-rent theses on his bâtard_ (illegitimate son) _Alexandre Dumas fils:_

" _Fils_ Dumas, you got the second of my _Père_ rent theses (parentheses always come in pairs) as easily as you got my first (they always come in _payers_ )." "Unlike parentheses, _Père_ Dumas, where a lone closing parenthesis can be used to list, 1) . . . 2) . . . 3) . . . , all the reasons a _bâtard_ is so damned sad in life; then use a lone opening parenthesis to make himself a frownyface ( **: (** ); just as an illegitimate son can use a lone closing parenthesis to make himself (in theory) a smileyface ( **: )** ), yet another big rent between us. . . ."
**  
**

157. A Lone Parenthesis Repaired a Rent

_Père_ Dumas (father), fertile author of

Swashbuckling heroes _toutes les_ _filles_ love

(The Count of Monte Cristo and The Three

[Count] Musketeers), swashbucklers all—as _he_

Who'd forty mistresses if he had one—

Soon found himself the author of a son

(Born illegitimate). _Père_ Dumas took

_Fils_ Dumas (son) from her. _Fils_ never shook

The stigma of it ( _bâtard_ ). __ So unfair!

For _Père's_ urge (like parentheses) to pair.

_Père_ Dumas ( _père_ -shaped author of it all),

_Fils_ Dumas (fair-shaped _bâtard_ like to bawl)

Cohabited in the huge cold Chateau

De Monte Cristo ( _Père's_ , I'm sure you know).

_Père_ Dumas (quite the landlord) had a thesis:

He, _Fils_ Dumas, should pay rent, but see this

_Fils_ could not. This caused a bigger rent

Between them for that _Père_ would not relent.

_Fils_ sadly added one more to his cares,

That **_Père_ rent theses always come in _Pères_**.

"You know me like a swashbuckler, _Fils_ Dumas, Alexandre," _Père_ Dumas, Alexandre said. "You got the second of my _Père_ rent theses (parentheses always come in pairs) as easily as you got my first (they always come in payers). Yet, today being rent day, _Fils_ Dumas, _bâtard_ (illegitimate son), there's something else (owing to me) you've got: **black** blood in you. But listen to how I, with my swashbuckling rapier wit, once ran a villain through for vilely thrusting my mixed-race ancestry in my face: 'Sir,' said I, 'my father was a mulatto; my grandfather was a negro; and my great-grandfather was a monkey. You see, Sir, my family starts where yours ends.' With that rapier thrust his pair (body and soul) were rent forever, proving those two as well always come in payers." "Unlike parentheses, _Père_ Dumas," sighed _Fils_ Dumas, "where a lone closing parenthesis can be used to list, 1) . . . 2) . . . 3) . . . , all the reasons a _bâtard_ is so damned, sad in life; then use a lone opening parenthesis to make him a frownyface ( **: (** ); just as one can use a lone closing parenthesis (in theory) to make him a smileyface ( **: )** ). But I guess that's going to cause another big rent between us, _Père_ Dumas." "Far from it, _Fils_ Dumas! __ Those are all perfectly legitimate uses of a single parenthesis—which I've been overlooking all these years! But you have opened my eyes—totally turning me around (as well as our names), and I see the _single_ swashbuckling future before me—all over again! I can't wait to see ALL I shall be author to; the novel ways I'll use a lone parenthesis (my rapier wit) to run a villain through; cut him a frownyface ( **: (** ); cut me a smileyface ( **: )** ). _Oui,_ _Fils_ Dumas, legitimately smart flesh of my flesh, for I've just authored the most enriching repair-rent thesis that comes in a _Père_ (and a lifelong prayer): **_Je t'aime!_ (I love you!)— _son!_** ( **: )** )."
**  
**

29. Brackets

_Love is much nicer to be in than an automobile accident, a tight girdle, a higher tax bracket, or a holding pattern over Philadelphia._

—Judith Viorst

**I'll Have You Know It's Hip to be [Me] Square**

"NO, I'm not 'curvy'—I don't want to be

Some single curvy _dame_ Parenthe _se_

—All right, Parenthe _sis._ I'd not be one

Female impersonator mark—no, _none—_

For all the world, nor [God forbid!] a pair;

I wouldn't, 'cause it's hip to be me [square].

I like to square [it's truly my best trick]

With writers, telling them, 'Your writeing's [ _sic_ ]

So _sic_ ,' I tell them straight, 'the bottom line

Is you've _one page_ to live' [italics mine].

"Another thing I'm hip enough to do

Is go about your writing giving you

A good piece of my mind by going 'round'

Some inserts that so often can be found

In it [corrections, comments, and additions]

Stuck in here, there [editor's submissions].

Who can top this [parenthetic comment

Inside parenthetic comment] bomb meant

— ** _BOOM!_** —to blow Parentheses to _SPLAT!_?

I'd like to see Parentheses do _that_."

Oh my! As you can see, class, Brackets is someone you don't want to square off with— and at the same time you _do._ You see, my little see-going [she was determined that they wouldn't be _C_ -going] darlings, Brackets may be square but he goes a _round_ many things. Say, did I ever tell you how, in my young days, sea-going craft used to have to go all the way around the Cape [Cape Horn], a very treacherous route, to get to their destinations? Which makes for some fascinating sea lore; but who can tell us what the square route of Brackets is? _To go around the Cape too?_ Well, I should _hope_ not [she was most likely punning here on the Cape of Good Hope]. That really would be a square [unhip] thing to do, when he can just breeze through the Panama Canal [opened 1914]—and save himself _8,000 miles_. He wouldn't be very see-worthy at that distance, now would he? No, seeing as how he can take the same see-going route as we just saw him take; the one he's been taking for eight centuries [ever since 1162 when Thomas à Bracket invented brackets and began going around England as the Archbishop of Canterbury]: going around

**Corrections:** Brackets go [goes] around with whomever they're [he's] going around with at the time.

**Comments:** Ironically, **** brackets [the little doohickeys on either end of this comment that look like short, black staples] do not contain a single milligram of vitamin B.

**Additions:** Today you've learned about commas, periods, and dashes [and brackets].

**Parenthetic comment inside parenthetic comment:** Look, we aren't going outside for recess now because a soft, puffy, white cloud (sure sign of inclement [unmerciful] weather) is slowly drifting by. So we'll just have to stay inside (where, for some [those who are loveless] the sun _never_ shines), until that large, cruel, black cloud decides to grant our little lives (some more little [of less duration] than others) clemency.

**Telling someone they're _sic, sic, sic_ :** You sickos need to lay [ _sic_ ] down hear [ _sic_ ] and be quite [ _sic_ ]. [italics mine, but you could— _and you'd better_ —make them yours too]

**To add to a quoted passage:** The insensitive little heartbreaker said, "My mommie [Mrs. Ray Zabunchof-Hooligans] says you're too old— _nobody_ will marry you now."

**Change in quoted passage to fit your writing:** And then she went home and told her mother that "[t]he schoolmarm started to cry."

**Around your own ellipses in a quoted passage:** I learned later that her mother said, "Still, she is a [ . . . ] lady." (I just couldn't bear to repeat her words "dried-up, crotchety, spinsterish, old")

And _oh_ , __ children [she begins to sob], I wouldn't wish _that_ ship's passage [she meant the age when every amorous friendship passes you by] on anyone. No, I don't need to. Such heartless passersby [ships in the knight] will find out for themselves in _time_ [she might have added "sooner rather than later"] that in life, no less than in brackets [ _and that goes double for parentheses_], what goes around the bull's horn, comes around the bull's horn, just as it [karma] does in

**The Novel Rules of Brackets**

**Ehud Barak, Yasser Arafat, Bill Clinton**

Use brackets to enclose a comment inserted in a quoted passage

**Reginald Perrín, C. J.**

Use brackets to enclose parentheses within parentheses

**Use brackets to enclose a comment inserted in a quoted passage**

****

** **

****

_President_ ** _Bill Clinton_** _is bracketed by Israeli Prime Minister_ ** _Ehud Barak_** _and Palestinian President_ ** _Yasser Arafat_** _during the Camp David Peace Talks, July 11, 2000._

"Welcome, Ehud, _welcome_ , Yasser, to this latest round of peace talks. [Since the days of King Arthur, peace tables are always round.] Well, well, well. We're quite the mix, aren't we? What do you say we break the ice with mixed drinks all around? Will that be crushed, Yasser [nothing would give him more pleasure than to see Arafat crushed] or cubed?" "Whatever. I'm certain it will be served just as cold [he knows he can't expect anything like warmth, coming from Israel's biggest supporter] either way."
**  
**

158. They Bracketed Their Comments Inside Quotes

Prime Minister of Israel Ehud

Barak: "I've dreams of peace to end the feud,

The _status quo_ between us, Palestine

And Israel—war without anodyne—

_For all these years_. Come _,_ Yasser [Arafat],

Let's make our _peace!_ Camp David's where it's at.

Yes, Jimmie failed of it in '78,

But now _Bill's_ at the old peace-broker plate.

Let's see if peace, for all old grudges nix it,

Isn't so long broken we can't fix it.

"Yas, come pledge: 'This status quotid. [daily]

War between us has to go.' Israeli,

Here's my Pledge Barak: It's to end, _close_

War—use its _passage_ , Yas, to end our woes."

"So what you're saying to me then is this:

Although I failed with Begin I can't miss

Of making peace with you, __ E _hawk_ Barak,

If I so pledge with you, through our peace yak,

To **Use 'Barak: It's to end, _close_ ' (a comment**

**Placed inside a 'quotid.' passage** [ _calm_ meant])?"

Camp David, July 11, 2000. President Clinton: "Welcome, Ehud, _welcome_ , Yasser, to this latest round of peace talks. [Since the days of King Arthur, peace tables are always round.] Well, well, well. We're quite the mix, aren't we? What do you say we break the ice with mixed drinks all around? Will that be crushed, Yasser [nothing would give him more pleasure than to see Arafat crushed] or cubed?" "Whatever. I'm certain it will be served just as cold [he knows he can't expect anything like warmth, coming from Israel's biggest supporter] either way." "Ehud?" "Whichever one's colder, Bill [he knows he's going to get no end of heat back home in Israel for the truly astounding concessions he is about to make], thanks." "First, let me say," Clinton shmoozes, "how happy I am to be here [he'd give his eye teeth to be negotiating eighteen holes], and how delighted I am to see the two of you using the complimentary square brackets I gave you to enclose editorial comments within a quoted passage [the time can't pass quickly enough]. It shows a genuine spirit of cooperation. And now, I believe, Ehud, you have an offer you'd like to make to Yasser?" "Ahem, yes . . . er, look, Yasser [Arabic _wealth, comfort, ease_ ], I'm willing to give you religious sovereignty over the Temple Mount—hell, I'll throw in all Jerusalem, the West Bank, and the entire Gaza Strip. Heaven help me, I'll even toss in Boardwalk and Park Place! All I ask in return is that you _stop blowing us up_ , for God's sake! Look, I'll give you the bloody _moon_ [he'd love to moon him on the spot] if that's what it takes." "What about the right of return?" " _Right!_ [he can't wait to play his hole card] If you promise not to return, Yasser, I'll send you—and all your tribe—pow! zoom! right to the moon, _right now._ ' _'Great!'_ Bill exults, 'Now we [he means Yasser] are really getting somewhere.' "

**Use brackets to enclose parentheses within parentheses**

****

** **

****

_The Fall of_ ** _Reginald Perrin_** _leaves C. J. incredulous._

"Yes, come in, Perrin, have a seat on the whoopee chair." "I'm afraid it's not **Perr** -in anymore, C.J." "What, not **Perr** -in?" (C.J. was incredulous [disbelieving], a common reaction of jiggly-dessert-company employers.) "It was my last fall, C. J. I fell so hard that the accent in **Perr** -in slipped all the way to the right, falling smack dab on - **in**." "But couldn't Dr. Morrisey (the official Sunshine Dessert chiropractor [a bone manipulator]) put it back?" "I'm afraid not, C. J." "How bloody awful, Reggie (Reginald [queen]) . . ."
**  
**

159. Puts Pairs in Pairs Like Matryoshka Dolls

The fall and rise of Reginald Perrín

(He fell so hard his accent fell on **-in**

[Perr- **in** ]) could not account for (nor could fate

[read _destiny_ ]) his always being late

For work (each time he came up with a thesis

[Supposition] why); his exegesis

(More bizarre [fantastic, weird] as time

Went on) would always start the same way ("I'm

[I hate the damned Tube] twenty minutes late—

_I know, I know;_ my most-bizarre-to-date

"Hypothesis—it must have been that croc

That held me with the crocodile rock

[A dance] that he was doing on the track

That surely held it twenty minutes back

[The London Underground], that is, unless . . ."),

Then he would posit yet another guess

Inside _that_ as the cause of "Overdue!"

(Experience with theses taught him to

**Use brackets to enclose** [surround, wrap these]

**Perrín theses within Perrín theses**.)

"Yes, come in, Perrin, have a seat on the whoopee chair," C.J. said employerly. "I didn't get where I am today (Sunshine Desserts [a subsidiary of There's-Always-Room-for-More Foods]) by being bossy. Dash it all, Perrin, now you've got _me_ putting parentheses inside parentheses!" "I'm afraid it's not **Perr** -in anymore, C.J.," Reggie said employeely. "What, not **Perr** -in?" (C.J. was incredulous [disbelieving], a common reaction of jiggly-dessert-company employers.) "It was my last fall (I remember it as if it were [I didn't get where I've fallen to today without knowing to use the subjunctive _were_ for a contrary-to-fact situation] yesterday). I fell so hard, C.J., that the accent in **Perr** -in (by the strangest coincidence it was then [at that moment, fateful as it was] simultaneously in the process of falling, too, right on **Perr** -) slipped all the way to the right, falling smack dab on - **in**." "I've heard of people slipping on bananas, but never on **'Perr'** s. I didn't get where I am today by slipping on **'Perr'** s. But couldn't Dr. Morrisey (the official Sunshine Dessert chiropractor [a bone manipulator]) put it back?" "I'm afraid not." "How bloody awful. I'm so sorry, Reggie." "Why's that, C.J.?" "Well, I mean Perr- **in** , it makes you sound like a bloody snooty _Frenchman_ (I've yet to meet one that didn't have the gall [France was originally called Gaul] to let their silly accents fall on their final syllables), doesn't it? I didn't get where I am today by being a snooty Frenchman. But dash it all, Reggie. I say, this here business (practise [we English spell 'practise' with an _s_ ]) of putting parentheses inside parentheses is deucedly awkward, isn't it?" [a plane on the flight path drowns him out] "What's that, C.J.?" "I said _we seem to be not on the right path again today._ I didn't get wh—" "You're absolutely right, C.J. Take a letter, Joan (his secretary [mistress]) . . ."
**  
**

30. Quotation Marks

_"Sancho,_ Clothes maketh the man _, but a lack of close-, to say nothing of open-quotation marks, maketh that man a naked plagiarist."_

—Don' Quoteme

_"Si, Señor Don' Quoteme; thus all lies are upon him."_

—Sancho Panza

**You'll Never Hear _Me_ Say, "Don't Quote Me"—Ever**

"Me, I'm the type who always has to be,

Well, going round with someone—that's just me.

I _have to_ wrap myself around, and mingle,

Whether I am double or I'm single.

When I do I shed a tear or two

Of joy on both sides— _bliss_ if it were 'you.'

But that's just me, I _must_ go round, must pair

With someone, else I feel I'm just nowhere,

Some little bits of empty, lonely type,

And that sets off my only sad-type gripe.

"What _really_ sets me off are commas, though,

And sometimes just a single comma—oh!

I _feel_ for it, not having any mate

—I know that single feeling; it's a fate

I wouldn't wish upon a single soul.

I know it, though, since I must play that role

When I am lone quote marks inside a quote

That's doubled up—paired—then how I emote!

My worst quote nightmare's when I (devastation!)

Don't _exist_ for indirect quotation."

Oh, my vulnerable, nonresistant darlings, who can tell us why you should be immunized —all of you—immediately? _So we can all have our own pet immu?_ Of all things! I swear you children perpetually have pets on the brain—except for being the teacher's pet! No, it's because Quotation Marks is _going around_. Yes, if she's not going around, _running_ around is more like it, with some fashionable _bon mot_ , smooth-talking glib-johnny, or her quote-unquote _literary dream-hunk_ (read _eye candy_ ), she's just not happ—what? _But you said all the punchuation marks are "he"s_? Yes, so I did. But that's easily explained, isn't it? _There are exceptions to all rules._ And you can quote me on that, even if she won't.

Now come, who can tell us why Quotation Marks is not at all happy about being the lone exception to the rule? I should think a _couple_ of you can. . . . Quotilda? Surely you can quote us something inside _double_ quotation marks regarding her fixation with being a dating _duo._ . . . Well, it's because she's obsessed with being a _pair_ (God, how I know the feeling!) whether she's single or double, like all her quote-hungry type. So she's often

**Set off by commas:** " _Ooooh,_ hubba-hubba," she purred, "I do so fancy a quotation who can stand on his own," and she wrapped her quotation marks around him. "Do you live around here?" "Er, yes," he replied, "right here in this paragraph." "Well," she said, "I want to be perfectly up front with you, as well as behind. Sometimes I'm set off by a colon—and always in one hasty direction: _Begin (_ or _begin) what comes after the colon with a capital, or not, but be consistent._ By the way," she added, "you should know I often get quite broken up about it (quoting some hunk). Yet I'm not the least bit broken up about not being set off with commas if a quotation such as 'Oh, to be in England / Now that April's there' slips smoothly into the flow of the sentence."

**Nowhere to be seen with indirect quotation:** She reminded him of having told him of her wish to be in England, now that April's there.

**Nowhere to be seen (optional) with thought:** Where in the world are we now? she thought, then had second thoughts: "Where in the world are we now?" she thought in order to avoid self-plagiary.

**Setting off titles:** I wonder if he's the romantic type who's even now working up the courage to quote me a line from Robert Burns' "My Love is Like a Red, Red Rose"?

**Single quotation marks inside double quotation marks:** She said, "Was that before or after you said, 'What do you say we get out of this crummy paragraph and get our own place together?' " She thought a moment, then added remorsefully, 'Oh, darling, I'm so terribly sorry. I completely forgot that we are in "Jolly Old" where it's quite the reverse: single outside, double inside. Can you ever forgive me?'

**Beginning a new paragraph with each exchange of dialogue:**

'I can forgive many things,' he said disgustedly, 'but since you just open-quoted with double quotation marks inside _England_ , then opened your mouth with singles—instead of doubles—inside those, the answer is no, I can _never_ forgive that.'

'Oh, boo-hoo!' she outwardly sobbed inside England.

**Putting periods and commas inside quotation:** "Ah, here we are back in the U. S. again," she sighed, "where they stick both the period and comma inside their close-quotation mark." [a long flight later] 'Now we're back in England', she sighed, 'where they stick them on the _out_ side. Go figure'.

**Ending with the punctuation of the quoted passage:**

He said, 'What in the world are we doing back in _England_?'

She bristled, 'You're always questioning my travel arrangements!'

He countered, 'Don't you remember my asking you when we landed, "Who in the world would be daft enough to turn around and go right back?" '

She shot back, 'Wasn't it Mary, Queen of Parting Shots, who said, "When a sentence contains a quoted passage that does not end in a question mark, place the question mark _outside_ the quotation mark—and _dump this insensitive blackguard_ " '?

_Ohhhh_ , darlings, what a tempestuous love affair! From the torrid open-quotation mark I was hooked. I just couldn't put it down until I reached the final steamy close-quotation mark; but it was the correctly positioned question mark following the quotation mark that truly brought the tears to my eyes, which watery effusions I need only turn upside down, group in single and double pairs, and let fall—on _deaf_ ears? That's right, you can't _hear_ quotation marks, can you? No, not unless you take proper care to acknowledge spoken quotations with "quote . . . unquote." Or, if your audience truly is deaf, you can position your hands on either side of your face, then take the two fingers next each thumb and give them two quick downward squiggles to simulate quotation marks, thus narrowly escaping being branded a lowdown thieving plagiarist. Now where was I before you got me off on one of my trademark digressional tears—I mean _tears_? What? Oh, yes, I was set to get all teary-eyed in quoting you

**The Novel Rules of Quotation Marks**

**"Stockmarket" Channing**

Use quotation marks to enclose words with a widely different level of usage

**Karl Marx**

Use quotation marks to enclose every direct quotation and each part of an interrupted quotation

**Gene Tearney**

Use single quotation marks to enclose a quotation within a quotation

**Groucho "Quotation" Marx, Margaret Dumont**

If a direct quotation extends for more than one paragraph, place quotation marks at the beginning of each paragraph but at the end of only the last

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Commas**

**Ma and Pa Kettle**

Use a comma to introduce a short quotation

**Colons**

**Loretta Lynn**

Use a colon to set off a quotation that supports the preceding clause

**Jimmy Carter**

Place a colon right behind an independent clause to introduce illustrative quotation

****

**Brackets**

**Ehud Barak, Yasser Arafat, Bill Clinton**

Use brackets to enclose a comment inserted in a quoted passage

**Use quotation marks to enclose words with a widely different level of usage**

****

** **

****

**_Stockmarket Channing_** _shows "Bobby" that she's quite a different level of use-sage._

"Yes, I'm quite the "Mark," all right. I put double quotation marks around my nickname "Mark" inside double quotation marks—there, I've just done it _again._ At least I'm 'sage' enough to put _single_ quotation marks around 'sage,' 'broker,' 'bitch,' 'stock,' and other words with widely different levels of usage, inside double quotation marks. So I think I'll just go bounding over the 'main,' the 'deep,' the 'drink' to show 'Tommy' how 'Sam,' a 'yank,' uses quotation marks." She did, and stopped the first "bobby" on the "bricks.". . .

****
**  
**

160. Quotation Marks for Different Usage Level

Stockmarket Channing wanted to get rich.

No sage, she was a sucker for a "pitch."

Stockbroker "sages" pitched her all day long,

Quote: " _This_ one's going to . . ." well, you know their song.

"Mark" liked their singing "This pie-in-the-sky

Is _it_!" so much that she came to rely

Upon their song and dance—yes, they danced too:

The Pitch-"Mark" Shuffle. " _Wealth_ will be a shoe-

in, with their 'sage' advice and all," "Mark" thought.

Whatever song and dance they pitched, she bought.

"Mark" didn't have to call one song-and-dance man/

" _This_ -one-is-your-'stock'-get-rich-quick-chance!" man.

Each called on her gullibility

To "get in on this opportunity,

'Mark,' of a lifetime—this one's going to _fly_!"

But "Mark" soon came to quote these "sages": "Buy

. . . and _bye!_ " (her wealth). "Mark" sang _The "Broker" Blues_

With perfect "bitch": like them, she'd learned to **Use**

**Quotation marks to set off** ["broker" rage]

**Words with a different level of "You ' _sage'_** **!"**

__

"Yes, I'm quite the "Mark," all right," "Mark" kvetched. "Quoting myself just now, I put double quotation marks around my nickname "Mark" inside double quotation marks—there, you see what a "Mark" I am? I've just done it again—and _again._ I just _can't_ seem to stop putting double quotation marks around "Mark" inside double quotation marks. But at least I'm 'sage' enough to put _single_ quotation marks around 'sage' and 'broker' and 'bitch' and 'stock' and other such words with widely different levels of usage, inside double quotation marks—and I'm as proud as 'punch' about this. So I think I'll just go bounding over the 'main,' the 'deep,' the 'drink' to show 'Tommy' how 'Sam,' a 'yank,' uses quotation marks." She did, and stopped the first "bobby" on the "bricks":

"Hiya, 'Bobby.' Wanna see me use 'sage' quotation "Mark"s inside quotation marks?"

'Oh I say, _stop_ right there, use-"sage" ', the "fuzz" cried. 'You just bloody well started speaking with _double_ quotation marks, closed with _double_ quotation marks, and in between used _single_ quotation marks—in clear violation of "limey" usage, which, since we started using English first, is "right" opposite "yank" usage. Besides, you used double quotation marks around "Mark" inside double quotation marks—doublin' the offence!'

"I _did_ , didn't I, 'copper'? Or are you 'heat' over here 'bulls'? 'dicks'? 'pigs'?"

' _Bloody hell!_ You've just done it _again!_ I don't care if you are "broke". Our "code" "dictates" I "bust", put the "collar" on, and take you before the "beak"—who'll throw the "book" at you—and _you_ inside the " 'ole" inside the "choke"—inside-quotation "Mark"!'

"Gee, I really _am_ a "Mark" come to using quotation "Mark"s inside quotation marks, aren't I, 'Bobby'?" "Mark" sighed inside, inside "solitary" inside "stir" inside "jolly old."

**Use quotation marks to enclose every direct quotation and each part of an interrupted quotation**

****

** **

****

**_Karl Marx_** _goes to his hellish reward._

"Karl," Marx heard, met at the fiery gates, "I have some God news and some bad news. Which would you rather hear first?" "Give me the bad news," Marx said, interrupting his own quotation. "It's in keeping with being a commie." "All right, this is where you'll be—for eternity!" "So what's the good news?" "Who in Hell said anything about _good_ news?" "You did." "I said I had some _God_ news." "So what's the God news?" "God is dead." "That's _good_ news." "It _is_?" " _Hell_ yes! We commies don't hold with God. . . ."
**  
**

161. Forever Interrupting Their Own Quotes

Red, Karl Marx, in reading what he wrote

Upon Marxism read aloud, "I quote:

'Religion is the opium of them asses.'

_Damn_ the fools!'—what I penned is _'the masses.'_

Yes, my face is red—whose wouldn't be,

A communist embarrassed _,_ typically?

I quote: 'two each, according to his greeds.'

I wrote: ' _to_ each according to his _needs_.'

And—misquote _fools_!—quote: 'I'm a naughty marquis.'

_DAMN_ them! I wrote: 'I am not a _Marx—_ ' "

—Systemic failure! Mid-quote Karl Heinrich

Marx died. "Damn!" the masses cried, "A _fine_ trick,

Dying— _inter_ ruptingly—mid-quote,

To get round saying what he _really_ wrote

Before some editor, a perfect fool,

Proved no exception to the misquote rule,

Quote: ' **Use quotation Marx to go round each**

**_Die rect quotation_** [of misquoted speech

By Marx] **and each part of an _inter_ rupted**

Marx] [**quotation**.' So read, Marx wound up dead."

"Karl," Marx heard, met at the fiery gates, "I have some God news and some bad news. Which would you rather hear first?" "Give me the bad news," Marx said, interrupting his own quotation. "It's quite in keeping with being a commie." "All right," his interlocutor hissed, "this is where you'll be interred—for internity! The Lowest Form of Pit." "You weren't kidding!" Marx said. " ' _Die_ rect' and ' _inter_ rupted' are as lowdown _bad_ as it gets. Me, I stay the hell away from lowest forms of wit." "Who said anything about _wit_?" "You did. You said 'The Lowest Form of Wit.' " "I did like Hell! You're hellishly misquoting me. I said 'The Lowest Form of _Pit._ ' " "Have it your way then." "I always do." "Whatever. So what's the good news?" "Who in Hell said anything about _good_ news?" " _You_ did. You said, 'I have some good ne—" "The _hell_ I did! I said I had some _God_ news. Once again you misquoted me _._ " "Picky picky. Have it your way." "I always _do._ How many flaming times do I have to tell you that, you God-damned pinko-red comma?" "Who in Hell said anything about being a comma?" "You did. You said, 'It's quite in keeping with being a comma.' " "The _hell_ I did! I said 'with being a _commie_.' You're misquoting _me_. So what's the God news?" "God is dead." "That's not God news; that's _good_ news." "It _is_?" " _Hell_ yes! We commies don't hold with God. Like the sign on the way down that says, 'The road to Hell is paved with God intentio—' " " _Like flaming Hell it does!_ It says 'The road to Hell is paved with _red_ intention—' " "You know, you're really very quote when you get so devilishly red in the face," Marx interrupted. "I've always said, 'Better red than dead.' " "Ruddy hell!" his rubicund-faced dialogist hissed. "It's 'Better red _and_ dead.' And you can damned well interrupted-quote me on that—for flaming _inter_ nity!"

**Use single quotation marks to enclose a quotation within a quotation**

****

** **

****

**Gene Tearney**: _"Tyrone Power sighed, 'My heart melts to see the paired double and single tears alternately flow down her cheeks, her "American Beauty" roses.'_

"If only you had said to me, just once, 'I love you,' I would have followed you 'to the ends of the earth,' though I haven't the foggiest idea where the ends of 'the round earth's imagined corners' are." Adoring fans were not disappointed: "As always, her single tears (') fall after her double tears ("), which fall after her single tears. Oh-h-h! _Look_ how the tears on the right side of her big-screen persona fall not as coldly 'left' tears (' ") but as inverted 'Mr. Right!' tears (' ")! It's the reel thing, a genuine classic Tearnjerker. . . ."
**  
**

162. Her Singles inside Doubles Said it All

In crying tears that looked for all the world

Just like quotation marks the way they curled

In flowing down her cheeks for nether parts,

Gene Tearney captured moviegoers' hearts;

The more so since her talent was that she

Could, whether she was coupled up or free,

Let fall these heartfelt _open_ emanations

Singly (') or in double (") __ aquatations,

And en _close_ her (choosing from two oceans

Saline), singly, doubly wrought emotions.

As her tears went curling down her cheek,

Gene didn't have to say a word or speak

Of her emotions, never had to pour her

Heart out verbally; her tears spoke for her.

Nonetheless, adoring fans would call for

Her to cry out, in sighed words, to bawl for

" _Paired_ quotation marks." "Those _two_ s that mingle

"So"?" she cried. "Ms. Tearney— _no!_ **Use _single_**

**Quote marks to enclose** —like 'so' [deflation]—

**Aquatation in sighed aquatation** _._ "

"If only you had said to me, just once, 'I love you,' " Ms. Tearney sobbed, "I would have followed you 'to the ends of the earth,' as every one always says, even though I haven't the foggiest idea where the ends of 'the round earth's imagined corners,' as the poet John Donne so beautifully said, are." Adoring fans were not disappointed: "As always," they sighed, "her single tears (') fall after her double tears ("), which fall after her single tears in turn. Oh-h-h! _Look_ how the tears on the right side of her big-screen persona fall not as coldly 'left' tears (' ") but as inverted 'Mr. Right!' tears (' ")!" and they all sighed, knowing that, once again, they were being moved by another classic Tearnjerker. Present at the gala tearmiere, Ms. Tearney pondered: "I wonder if 'Tearnatics,' seeing my tears run down my cheeks ('petal-soft "American Beauty" roses,' Tyrone Power called them), will be moved to go again and again to see them streaming down over and over, and sigh and sigh to watch them leave their single and double Tear tracks anew. More, I wonder if the younger ones realize this caused Howard Hughes to dub such repeat tearful performances 'reruns'; or know that they have me, Gene Tearney, 'unquestionably the most beautiful woman in movie history,' as Daryl F. Zanuck so understatedly said, to thank for it. But I hope they won't hold against me all the cheap imitations—those without a single, much less _double_ , genuine Tear® to their 'credits'—that run down 'small screen' faces over and over, which the aptly named 'boob tube' so pompously calls 'encore performances,' for all the good it does them. One glimpse and Tearnatics the world over protest: 'We're being jerked around! _Those_ aren't genuine Tear®s,' as they reach for, as they call it, the 're-emote control,' and go searching, sighing, dying for 'a genuine Tearnjerker®' rerun!"

**If a direct quotation extends for more than one paragraph, place quotation marks at the beginning of each paragraph but at the end of only the last**

****

** **

****

**_Groucho "Quotation" Marx_** _locks eyebrows with feminine foil (Margaret Dumont) in_ Unrequoted Love.

"I've never met a man who had such eyebrows—like quotation marks on stareoids."

**"** No wonder you're a lifelong victim of unrequoted love. [he starts a new para-graph]

**"** And you can requote me on that. [quick double-raise of his open-quote eyebrow]

"Well you boldly _open-_ quote love all right—but you're no pairamouring pairadigm at _close-_ quoting love. Some love salesman you! You can't even close a close relationship. Tell me, what good are such half-hearted quotation marks anyway?" . . .

****
**  
**

163. Quotation Marks and Paragraphs: Love Foiled

" 'Quotation' Marx—yes, how you love to quote

_Yourself_ , __ one who's your mark is burned to note.

In all your para-graphs (those frank love letters

Paramours write para-graphing petters

To spark up romance), when you get going

_—_ Grouch—a pen pal has no way of knowing

_When_ , 'Quotation' Marx, you'll ever close

Your para-graphs you open to propose—"

"What, _marriage_? I propose, my pet, to get

A laugh upon you, penned-to para-pet,

"Direct. The joke's on you! Each para-graph

I pen—without clothes—just to get a laugh."

His last. Each para-mark knows what to do:

_She_ ends it: "Quote this, Marx—the laugh's on _you_!"

"Quotation" Marx gets from these mark-closed ends:

**If a direct "Quotation"** Marx] **[extends**

**For longer than one para-graph** [that sparks

The kind that fly— _whoa!_ ], **place "Quotation" Marx**

Grouch] **[at the start of each new para-graph,**

**But at "the end!" of only the last** __ [laugh?].

"Quotation" Marx, in a classic scene from _Unrequoted Love_ , __ runs into less than a feminine paradigm, a para-foil. A high-society highbrow, she's looking to meet a write-romancing paramour with para-graphic intentions, who's looking to be one half of a close relationship; instead, she runs into a paranormal pair of parahyperbolic eyebrows.

"I've never met a man who had such eyebrows—like quotation marks on stareoids."

**"** No wonder you're a lifelong victim of unrequoted love. [he starts a new para-graph]

**"** And you can unrequote me on that. [quick double-raise of his open-quote eyebrow]

"Well you can _open-_ quote love all right—but you're no pairamouring pairadigm at _close-_ quoting love. Some love salesman you! You can't even clothes, never mind close, a close relationship. Tell me, what good are such half-hearted quotation marks anyway?"

**"** So husbands can only accuse me of halfhearted playgiary. [he starts a new para-graph]

**"** But _yours_ doesn't have anything to worry about. [sees his joke and raises her an open-quote]

**"** I only use them on paramours who get a _double_ rise from my quote-unquote eyebrows.

" _Well!_ You've got the boldest, most unigraphic quotation mark I've ever seen, but you ought to try _closing_ your para-graphs—and your pair o' lips—with them once in a wh—"

**"** I've only got the pair-o'-graphic kind—and I boldly hang the two high right at the start.

**"** At the innuendo of the last para-graph, I figure they're bold enough to know better.

**"** And hung enough to two it again. **"** [eyebrows, highbrows raised all around]

31. Apostrophes

_If the English language made any sense, a catastrophe would be an apostrophe with fur._

—Doug Larson

**The High-Class Comma _v._ the Low-Class One**

"Indeed! 'the spitting image of each other'

—When I'm born of _upper_ -class-type mother.

Social standing? Highly I surpass:

You're, Commas, low; while I am _upper_ class,

And from my lofty perch look down my nose

At you who from your low class never rose

To prominence, as I; I do _three_ things,

And all of the most _high_ -class mentionings:

I make odd __ plurals, I do, such as **p** 's

And **q** 's, **if** 's, **and** 's, and **but** 's and such as these.

"Then I (as if those weren't the _up_ most actions)

Up my high class thus: I make contractions

Such as **I'm** , **she's** , **couldn't** , **shan't** , **** and **won't**.

You, Commas, **mayn't** —because you **can't** —so **don't**.

And last, I make possessives: that's **Tom's** knee.

You couldn't own a thing if not for me—"

"Who needs _your_ _type_ to own, 'This thing is **mine** ,

**His** , **hers** , **its** , **ours** , **theirs** , **whose** '?—most _comma_ fine

With us, your generous inferiors

Who _give it to_ _you_ now—this put-down's **yours**.' "

Mercy sakes! The way those two fight over the smallest things. Why, one could almost think them siblings, or _classmates_. And all because Apostrophes considers himself head and tail above Commas. So much so that he's applied to have his moniker officially spelled 'Upostrophes.' Yes, _spelling_ —imagine that! He got so high upon his lofty social position that he completely forgot to mention how he helps you spell words correctly as well, such as Phil O'Math and Phil O'Logue. And it's a good thing he did, too, otherwise he'd have been acting more uppity than ever in preparing for his upscale name change.

But, darlings, let us leave Apostrophes filling out the name-change form with his uppity-type squiggle while we turn—yes, _turn_. That's yet another thing he forgot to get way up on his high horse about. "Apostrophe" comes from Greek _apostrephein_ , "to turn away," which is accurately describing that other apostrophe, "the direct address of an absent or imaginary person, or of a personified abstraction, especially as a digression in the course of a speech or composition." But then that's all Greek to your little English noodles, isn't it? Here, take this example: a certain schoolmarm of the old school is addressing her class when for some reason a look comes over her face that all at once bespeaks frustration and pain. She turns that tortured visage away from the source of pain, directs it heavenward, and laments: "O God (that h-less 'O' is a dead giveaway of the apostrophe), why couldn't you, _just once_ , send some little learnniks my way who actually come to school to _learn_?" And the Lord, whose vengeance is mighty—and swift as a Byrd—replies, _Yea, to every thing (turn, turn, turn) there is a season—yea, verily, the season in which the proverbial unlearnnik, lo, hath taken a woeful and prodigal turn for the worse, making it the season (there's a time for every purpose under heaven) to turn_ —yes, thank you, God, to

**Odd plurals:** apostrophes in _ps, qs, i.q.s, phDs, 10s (p's, q's, i.q.'s, phD's, 10's)_ that summarily turn away all confusion and doubt as to meaning.

**Contractions:** apostrophes in _cant, were, shed, wont (can't, we're, she'd, won't)_ that flatly turn away all alternative interpretations.

**Possession:** apostrophes in _Chadverbs, Nounettes, Edverbs (Chadverb's, Nounette's, Edverbs's)_ that immediately turn away any false notion of multiples of these learnniks, as well as turn away every coveting other who has designs on owning whatever it is that _Chadverb, Nounette,_ and _Edverb_ each so possessively own.

Oh! but, my little interns, who will, in turn, one day turn out to be scholars—or great big _know-nothings_ —surely I owe you an apostrophe for being so harsh—and wouldn't you just know it (I won't count the one in "wouldn't" or the one in "won't"), here it is coming down the turnpike now [she turns her eyes to Heaven]: O God, in turning the other cheek, even as the worm turns (turn about is fair play), pray put on my tongue that turn of phrase that will henceforth turn their little attention spans toward, and verily turn them on to

**The Novel Rules of Apostrophes**

**Owen Napostro**

Use an apostrophe to show that letters or figures have been omitted

**Mother Teresa**

Use an apostrophe to make contractions

**Jock Shy-rac, Dubya Bush, Tommy Franks**

Use an apostrophe to form the possessive case of a plural noun ending in _s_

**Ma and Pa Clanger**

In compound nouns add the apostrophe-s to the last element of the expression, the one nearest the object possessed

**Narcissus Appos, Sophie**

Never use an apostrophe in forming the plural of nouns **** and the possessive case of personal and relative pronouns

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Nouns**

**Tom Sawyer, Huck Finn**

Make nouns possessive with apostrophe-s or apostrophe alone

**Use an apostrophe to show that letters or figures have been omitted**

****

** **

****

_Star slugger_ ** _Owen Napostro_** _with the mittful of dough he got for being MLB's MVP._

"The reason I'm commandin' a highfalutin' Napostro fee is for the way I'm usin' my aponymous name-sake, the _apostrophe,_ to take the place of letters I omit wherever it suits me. Sometimes I leave 'em off of the end o' words, like the final _g_ in _-ing_ words ( **owin'** , __**livin'** , __**pluggin'** ). **** Other times I leave 'em out o' the middle of my words ( **valu'ble** , **nash'nal** , and __**fav'rite** ). Still, other times I omit 'em right off the corked bat ( **'Cause)**. In between I'll leave 'em out o' contractin's ( **can't** , **won't** , **I'll** ), **** and figures ( **'01** , **'02** ) . . ."
**  
**

164. He Smugly Showed Off His Omitted Figures

"I'm," Owen "O." Napostro got to blowin',

"MLB's star MVP—they're **owin'**

Me a higher sky-high salary

**'Cause** I bring in the peanut gallery

Who come to watch me smash my home-run record

With yet one more grand slam upper-deckered.

_The_ 'Most **Valu'ble** ' of ball gold diggers,

I should ought to get a high 8 figures

Sure for what they charge per ticket, get,

Each one **equiv'lent** to the **nash'nal** debt."

So into the negotiations O.,

In '05, went for the mittful of dough

He felt his due—not one inch did he give in:

"Fine then, I'll go make a sky-high **livin'**

**Pluggin'** me my **fav'rite** brand o' chew."

He had them good, O. did—what could they do?

O. walked out with a mittful; taught those three

Club owners to **Use a Napostro fee**

**To show that letters** [as such letters ought]

**Or figures** 8] [**have been O.-mitted** __ [caught].

"Well that's another home-run pitch I never missed," Owen chuckled as he walked out counting his 8 ("all present and 'counted for") figures. "But I reckon I missed my callin' by a country mile. The way I taught them club owners a lesson in 'rithmetic 'mountin' to the high 8 figures, it's plain as day I should of been some kind of a swell head teacher. Take the way I talk. Anybody can see and hear good that what I was sayin' was _Use an apostrophe to show that letters or figures have been omitted_. The reason I'm commandin' such a highfalutin' Napostro fee, natur'ly, is for the way I'm usin' my aponymous name-sake, the _apostrophe,_ to take the place of letters I omit wherever it suits me. Sometimes I leave 'em off of the end of words when I find myself gettin' a mite tired by the time I get there, one o' the most common bein' the final _g_ in _-ing_ words, as I did on back there with **owin'** , __**livin'** , __ and __**pluggin'**. **** Other times when I'm just sort of middlin' tired, as I get in the middle of a game or negotiatin's, I leave 'em out o' the middle of my words, more or less, such as **valu'ble** , **equiv'lent** , **nash'nal** , and __**fav'rite**. Still, other times when I feel plum beat before I start, I omit 'em right off the corked bat such as I did with **'Cause**. In between times I'll leave 'em out of all standard contractin's such as **can't** , **won't** , **didn't** , **I'll** , **shouldn't** , **** and etc., right along with figures, as I did all throughout **'01** , **'02** , **'03** , __ and **'04** , just to show 'em I've shortchanged 'em all and I'm Owin', get it? though I reckon I more'n made up for it by puttin' one where nothin's missin' all through out the **1990's** , though there's some'd leave it out." So, li'l leaguers, let me learn y'all the _Most Valu'ble_ lesson of all: stay in school and get yourselfs a edumacati'n, 'specially punctuatin', other whys how can youse ever expect to be pullin' in a have decent sal'ry in the l **'05** figures?"
**  
**

**Use an apostrophe to make contractions**

****

** **

****

_In the "nation of sweatshopkeepers,"_ ** _Mother Teresa_** _hopefully inquires of a sweatshop owner as to the possibility of being put in child labor._

"G'day, mum, 'ow can I 'elp yer." "Oh, sir, please, I am woefully short the contractions of child labor." " _Oi_ 'll say you are—but we've no shortage of what you're lookin' for, 'ere, mum." "Oh, sir, have you ever put anyone as old as me in child labor?" " _'Ave_ I? Oi put m'lady over there in choild labor only last week—and already she's expectin'." " _Oh-h-h_ , good sir, I should dearly love to be put in child labor, but . . ." "Yes, mum?" "I could not _bear_ the contractions." "They usu'lly go 'and in 'and with the choild labor, mum."
**  
**

165. She Used Apostrophe to Make Contractions

No mother, "Blest" Teresa of Calcutta,

Short of motherhood was one gal cut, a-

bove?— _below_ in height (but four-foot-ten),

In looks, and shorter yet, for that, in men,

And, shortest of all, blessed _child_ —her own,

A shortness that had "long" left her alone.

So sensitive was she to her shortcomings,

Utterly short pre- and post-birth mummings,

That she couldn't, short trimestral thirds,

Too, suffer herself to be short with words.

"No, every word I _have_ to spell out whole;

I _cannot_ short a one to save my soul.

O God, I ask no lightening of my labors

Caring for my short-health leprous neighbors.

Could you not give me child labor _once_

—Most blest of wages—for the whole nine months?"

Addressing God, she had faith she would yet

(A miracle!) immaculately get

With _child_ if she'd **Use** [blest of benefactions!]

**An apostrophe to make contractions**.

"O God," Mother Teresa wept, "the cruelest of jokes it is you play upon me, calling me _Mother_ , I so woefully short the contractions of child labor. O Holy Father," she went on tearfully apostrophizing, "as you know, I cannot short/contract a word to save my soul, but I am ever so ready and willing—and, God, _able_?—to contract child labor. Absent your immaculate intervention, as you did for the blessed Virgin Mother, I find myself at pains, nonetheless, to seek out child labor contractions where I can find them. Inquiring around Calcutta, I am advised to make a pilgrimage to Jolly Olde, that nation of sweatshopkeepers with an olde olde reputation for child labor." [Shortly] "G'day, mum, 'ow can I 'elp yer." "Oh, sir, if you please, I am woefully short the contractions of child labor." " _Oi_ 'll say you are—but we've no shortage of what you're lookin' for, 'ere, mum." "Oh, sir, have you ever put anyone as old as me in child labor?" " _'Ave_ I? D'yer see m'lady over there, a true choild of poverty, a-sweatin' 'er loif away?" "Yes." "Well, oi put 'er in choild labor only last week, di'n't I?—and already she's expectin'." "Oh-h-h! _already_ , sir?" "Aye. 'Ere, mum, oi could put yer next that wee choild of a bo's'n workin' in the fo'c's'le. Look 'ow I've got 'er sweatin' 'er loif away from six o'clock morn till eight o'clock eve." " _Oh-h-h_ , good sir, I should dearly love to be put in child labor, but . . ." "Yes, mum?" "I could not _bear_ the contractions." "They usu'lly go 'and in 'and with the choild labor, mum." "Oh, sir, I did not mean _those_ contractions; I meant the ones you are so contractually prodigal with, such as _G'day_ , _'ow_ , _'elp_ ,' _'ere_ , _di'n't_ , _bo's'n_ , _fo'c's'le_ —oh-h-h! and _expectin'_ —" "They're 'armless, mum. Now, if you're ready to be put in choild labor—" "Oh! _oh-h-h_ , dear! But what will _God_ say?" "Whoi, only, mum, that yer be paid the mini-mum wage."

**Use an apostrophe to form possessive case of a plural noun ending in _s_**

****

** **

****

_President_ ** _George "Dubya" Bush_** _vents to his "Surgin' Gen'ral and Dubya M. D." Tommy Franks about the assorted ills French President Jock Shy-raq gives him:_

"Tom, Jock's **_ne . . . pas_** 'n' us on our invadin' of a pre-emptied I-raq makes me sick to my stomach, and plus gives me a big pain in the UNOWEAR, milit'ry jargon for my BVDs, millions of times more destructive of the masses than WMDs, 'specially when they're goin' off. Consequentially, I'm itchin' real bad to give Jock the pointed toe of my boot." "Well there's your problems right there, Dubya, to give you my **Franks'** opinions: Jock's given you a stomach ache, a big pain in the UNOWEAR, and you've got Jock itch to boot."
**  
**

166. He Got His (Franks') Opinions in the Plural

" _'Je **ne** support **pas** ,'_ that there Jock Shy-raq

Said to _No!_ -pose US, _'la guerre chez I-raq,'_

Or words to that affect," groused Dubya Bush,

Sore knocking Jock S., "when I-raq War push

Was come to shove. The US he meant, of course,

These here United States, _'Le **Mal** War Horse,'_

As Jock Shy-raq was paintin' Uncle Sam

—Our _Nash'nal Noun_ —goin' on to further damn

_US,_ these United States, that's plur-all, see,

By say'n' I-raq was _'Dubya_ _MD'_ free,

"When I was dumpin' _all_ —not one foe pas—

My Militr'y Destructive's—shock and _Awwww!_ —

On Saddam's head, while Jock and his pal Co-fee

Rolled in 'oil for food'— _fat_ _cat-_ a-stro-fee!

That disaster, I could see, was showin',

While our 'ally' Jock was **_ne . . . pas_** _'No!'_ in'

US—the U.S.— _US_ not known to lose a

War, that Jock knew all along to **Use a**

**_Ne . . . pas stro-phe to form the possess-_**

**ive case of plur-all Nouns that end in _s_**.

"Dubyaspeakin' of Dubya MDs," No. 43 went on in his State of the Disunion Address, emphasizing the prose of his pre-emptive strike. "Jock's **_ne . . . pas_** 'n' us on our invadin' of a pre-emptied I-raq made me so sick to my stomach, not to mention givin' me a big pain in the you-know-where, that I had to go see Gen'ral Tommy Franks, who's my idea of a U.S. Surgin' Gen'ral, which is why I made him my Official Dubya M.D. I went to see Tommy so's to get his **Franks'** opinions, and he gave 'em to me—both bare-alls. His one **Franks'** opinion was: ' _Jock_ is the cause of making you sick to your stomach'; and his two **Franks'** opinion was: ' _Jock_ is the cause of your pain in the UNOWEAR,' which I reco'nized was milit'ry jargon for my BVDs, which I wear over Jockeys, on account o' their bein' millions of times more destructive of the masses than WMDs, 'specially when they're goin' off. Anyways, I came away from that embarrassin' examinin' with a two sum o' frank opinions of my own: one, **Franks** has got a plur-all **s** , so there must be two of him; and _(b)_ you're only addin' an apostrophe to make such plur-all nouns possessive. Well, seein's how **Franks** had correctly diagnosed the two causes of my sickness and pain, I said I was itchin' real bad to get back to the White House and figure out how to give Jock Shy-raq the pointed toe of my boot. I'd barely got my BVDs on when Tommy says, 'Hold on, Dubya. I've got one more **Franks'** opinion for you.' 'What's that, Tom?' 'You've got a bad case of Jock itch to boot.' 'Tell me somethin' I _don't_ know.' 'All right. Our **Marines'** , **Rangers'** , **Seals'** , **Special Ops'** , our brave **heroes'** __ ultimate sacrifices are mounting daily.' 'I know, I _know_ ,' I said, sick to my stomach. 'I misunder- **s'** -timated just how many of our finest and bravest would lay down their plur-all **s'** s for their country!' "

**In compound nouns add the apostrophe-s to the last element of the expression, the one nearest the object possessed**

****

** **

****

**_Ma and Pa_** _'s interest is aroused by an approaching compound noun, one they don't recognize, wondering what in the world it is jointly possessing._

The Clanger **** young'uns found it hilarious that Ma, as in **Ma and Pa's young'uns** , _never_ got an **'s** as Pa did. This conflict provided endless amusement. Well, not quite endless. One such time the eldest gathered his siblings in a corner and whispered: "Shucks, why don't we call on _compound nouns_ to tickle us with the unequalities of _their_ possessions?" So he piped up, "Farley Grainger's no-good **son-in-law's** drinkin'." And they all held their breaths waiting for **son** to get sore because he didn't get an **'s** like **law**. Nothing. . . . 
**  
**

167. She Added the Apostrophy to Pa

Hitched, Ma and her Pa Clanger living down

Upon the farm were some fine compound noun

It struck Ma hard __ one cold day in December:

"Our joint annivers'ry _I_ remember.

Here we're married _twenty_ years this day,

—And here is Pa log-sawin' in the hay,

Nigh on about the only thing he's done

For all our twenty years of bein' one.

Yes, won; the one thing Pa's won all our years,

Besides me, is this Trophy _S_ , for [tears

Fall] " _Sleeping!_ " So Ma hit Pa on his crown

With more come-pounding tears while he was down.

He sawed on. So she hit him with expression,

"You're some fine possession" [ _CLANG!_ sleep session

Ends] with more come-pounding tears [Pa's up now,

His poor Trophy _S_ a dented cup now]:

" **Come-pound nouns** , Pa, **add the up-Pa's Trophy**

**_S to the last element of the_**

**Expression** — _CLANG!_ [poor Pa, so Trophy _'S'_ ed].

**The one most near the object** _—CLANG!_ — **possessed**."

Ma and Pa's young'uns thought they'd have a fit. They found it hilarious that Pa, who'd already gotten a Pa's Trophy _S_ , was now getting **'s** —while the only thing Ma got for all their joint possession was appleplectic, which, in their eyes, was most as good as apple pan dowdy. Looking round, there was no denying Ma and Pa lived in a joint. Yet Ma, for all their joint possession, as in **Ma and Pa's young'uns** , never ever got an **'s** as Pa did. And the conflict this possessive inequality caused was, for the objects of their possession, the source of endless amusement. Well, not quite endless. There were times, though few and far between, when there'd be a momentary lull in the _Battle of the **'s** es_. And life was pretty ho-hum then. One such time they were lolling about the joint, bored to tears, when all of a sudden the eldest young'un's eyes lit up. He jumped up, gathered his siblings in a corner and whispered: "Shucks, durin' hum-drums like this, why don't we just up and call on _compound nouns_ to amuse us with the un-equalities of _their_ possessions?" " _Hey-y_ , doggies—let's do it!" they colluded excitedly. So the eldest piped up, "Farley Grainger's no-good **son-in-law's** drinkin'," and they all held their breaths waiting for **son** to get sore because he didn't get an **'s** like **law**. Nothing. So another said, "Our **cousin-by-way-of-marriage's** coon hound," and they waited for **cousin** to fly off the handle. Not a rise out of him. So another said, "A **friend of mine's** __ uncle." But **friend** stayed just as unruffled as frozen milk. Still another said, "The **man in the road's** opinion." But the **man** was no kind of a man. Then the eldest chimed in again, "Look, we're headin' in at this **'s** thing all wrong. I know one'll work for sure," and he yelled across the room, "Hey, Ma. How come in the joint expressin' **Ma and Pa's _. . ._ ,** _you_ never get an **'s** , only Pa?" That did it.

**Never use an apostrophe in forming the plural of nouns and the possessive case of personal and relative pronouns**

****

** **

****

**_Narcissus_** _gazes adoringly at the one he loves as Sophie, burned that **he** is not possessive of **her** , looks daggers._

"Narcissus, possessive pro-nouns show possession by **'s**. **Hers** is a possessive pronoun. Thus, what is **hers** is **her's**." "O Sophie, goddes **'s** of Sophistry, do you say I am **your's**? **ours** is **our's**? **his** is **his's**? **theirs** is **their's**? **whose** possessions are **whose's**?" "What I'm _saying_ is: I possess you; you possess you; we address one another via apostrophe—thus we are two apostrophe-possessive **Appos's**. I used to love you a bunch—but your loving yourself Narcissistically proved _One bad **Appos** will spoil the whole bunch._" . . . 
**  
**

168. She Rued the Day She Ever Made Him Plural

Most eligible bachelor-Greek Narcissus

Appos (every miss would be his Mrs.,

So each dreamed) so loved himself that ("Oaf! he

Can't see that I _want_ him—as my trophy!")

He could not see wedding any belle

"Who wants to get up close and _personnel_ :

Some _relative_ -prone noun whose aim in life

Is but to be my _lesser_ -loving wife,

Just so her friends will cry throughout all Grappos,

Green with envy, 'How d'ya like _them_ Appos?' "

Nonetheless, a most persistent Sophie

Won Narcissus Appos as her trophy.

So possessed, he found himself in rural

Greece, a case of living in the _plural_ ,

But just loving _one_. Spurned, Sophie, burned,

For all her unrequited loving learned

To **_Never_ use an Appos trophy** [flee!]

**To form the plural** don't!] **[of nouns and the**

**Possessive case of personal** [her person],

**Relative-prone nouns**. [that love will worsen]

The moment the coveted Appos Trophy was **hers** , Sophie realized she'd made a terrible mistake: "Because I possess the Trophy, and the apostrophe is how we show possession, I should have used the possessive pronoun **her's**. Yes, I am at heart a Sophist, meaning one who skillfully uses rhetoric, debate, and specious reasoning to deceive the unwitting with clever-sounding but flawed arguments. A fiercely possessive-prone noun, I shall now set about justifying my use of an apostrophe in a possessive pronoun with, since I possess it, _another_ apostrophe: addressing an absent or imaginary person or personified abstraction, especially in a digressive manner: 'O Posseidon, god of possession, pray put me, Sophie, in possession of Sophistry that I may now turn Reason on **it's** head.' " So possessed, she began: "All possessive pro-nouns (what noun isn't pro-themselves?) show possession by means of **'s**. **Hers** is a possessive pronoun. Therefore, what is **hers** is **her's**." Meanwhile, Narcissus, gazing adoringly at his reflection in a pond, can't help overhearing Sophie's apostrophe about the apostrophe and, insanely jealous that **his** Sophie is possessing some-thing other than himself, thinks to set her straight: "O Sophie, goddes **'s** of Sophistry, are you saying that I am **your's**? that **ours** is **our's**? **his** is **his's**? **theirs** is **their's**? more, that **whose** possessions are **whose's**?" "What I'm _saying_ is: I possess you; you possess you; we address one another absently via apostrophe—thus we are two apostrophe-possessive **Appos's**. Another thing: I used to love you a whole bunch—but your loving yourself so Narcissistically (that's one thing you love about you) spoiled everything, proving _one bad **Appos** will spoil the whole bunch._" "Hear me, Sophie: your Sophistry is just __ too _onerous_ for words." " _YES!_ how perfectly **Appos's** ite. I'm finally _one_ who owns two **Sophistry's**!"
**  
**

32. Bullets

_It's not the bullet with my name on it that worries me. It's the one that says, "To whom it may concern."_

—Anonymous Belfast resident

**You See _Now?_ You Got Just What You Deserve**

"Small, dark, and handsome—look! I draw your eye

Whenever I do not mean to imply

That any item's more important than

Another; yes, that's my eye-catching Plan

B: make things stand out for each bulletee.

_No_ , I don't have a Plan A—can't you see?

Of course you can't; you thought you'd use Plan A

That hypes instead of types itself some **'Hey,**

**_Hey-y_ , you there—look at me, hey, HERE I am!'**

You see? No, you _can't_ see; it's all A scam.

"That's what you get for buying Brand A when

It's common knowledge, whether print or pen,

That Brand B— _me_ —is whom you should have bought

To see the listed items that you've got

Before your eyes—except you _cannot_ see

A one of them—because not one's Plan B.

You got your just deserves, now let me mention,

For each one's escaping your attention,

Maybe next time, for the obfuscAtion,

You'll avoid the cheapjack imitAtion."

This bulletin just in: "The nations of the world unanimously agreed today to go to war with one another immediately as the only surefire means of moving toward world peace." Called upon to explain this seeming paradox, Ununited Nations Secretary General Wright Wing-Hawk said, "Look, in order to go _toward_ peace we must first go _towar_ , right? What about the _d_? __ Oh, rest assured; that will come to us at the end, and we will all be at peace."

Class, it is all too bleeding obvious: they didn't send the bullet in far enough to kill such specious thinking, so let's move toward peace fairly skipping _towar_ :

Suppose all the soldiers of the world replaced their nasty-type puncturing bullets with natty little typecast punctuating bullets. So struck, everyone would see the reasons that people go to war, and how imperialistic, vainglorious, intolerant, asinine _they_ really are:

  * This land is _my_ land, this land ain't your land
  * My country, right or wrong (medically termed Patri-autism)
  * Our God is the true and only God. _We're_ -the-chosen-ones
  * I don't like the foods you eat
  * I don't like the clothes you wear
  * You look funny
  * You smell funny
  * _Whatever_ color your skin is it's the wrong color
  * Suspicion of WMD (Women, Men Different from you)
  * Ethnic cleansing (guaranteed safe on dirty bombs)
  * Fighting for a "just [be]cause"
  * Stupidity as a way of life (deceased)

Yes, darlings, you see how foolish and sordid these reasons are just as plain as

  * D-day
  * Veterans Day
  * Memorial Day
  * A Day That Will Live in Infamy Day
  * The Day We Dropped the Big One Day
  * Victory There Are No Winners Day

But— _oh dear!_ Taking every one of these bullets to heart, who can tell us what is just the worst thing you can do with bullets? _Shoot someone?_ Well, that is terrible and awful, but then it's nowhere near as grave an offense, Bulletina, as _riddling your text with them_ , is it? No, such serial riddling is called overkill. Why? Well, it's because when one bullet or even several catch your eye, you clearly see (with your remaining eye) what an unspeakable tragedy it is; but when an _entire body_ is so riddled, such as the poor, defenseless natives in the Sudan, then, by international agreement, it is not a news bulletin but only a new bulletin', so naturally the only thing that catches the world's eye is that there is not now, nor will there _ever_ be, any 'Gee!' on the end of the bulletin' for the poor dead Sudanese.

So remember, class: in firing bullets down on the page, be sure to take careful aim so, in catching someone's eye, no one can accuse you of a _mis_ demeanor, like war and turning a blind eye— _no_ , not the one you took the bullet in, the eye you "see" with—to genocide.

And so we discern our moral: Bullets (the kind that leave a noticeable indent) have their proper place in school, but we should leave the other bullets (the ones that do the same thing) at home. What's that? Yes, that's right, _in_ the assault weapons, so that preschoolers playing the popular home version, as well as angry, methed-up teens with an enemies list, can easily get hold of them, an all-too-common occurrence that could never happen in

**The Novel Rules of Bullets**

**the Lone Ranger, Taunto**

Use bullets to effectively point out items that are separate but equal in importance

**Roy Rogers, Bullet, Dale Evans**

Use bullets sparingly

**Use bullets to effectively point out items that are separate but equal in importance**

****

** **

****

_The_ ** _Lone Ranger and Taunto_** _, shooting, as usual, from the hip._

"Lone Ranger say he never shoot kill, only wound. But Taunto have old wound to kill." "What's that, Taunto?" "White eyes think Indian not equal. Heap trouble come soon. You heedum, Kemo Therapay! You takeum Taunto's pow-wow how use bullets heap good."

"But, Taunto, if I were to catch someone's eye with even one such deadly bullet, it could instantly _kill_ his image of the superior white man, whereas I only shoot to wound." "You gottum point, Kemo Therapay. You see heap 20/20. Now we go work shoot down . . . "

****
**  
**

169. Lone Ranger Use _Real_ Bullets to Point Out

The lone survivor of the ambush, Reid,

Found nearly dead by Taunto ("White man bleed")

Who nursed him back to health, when out of danger,

Donned a mask, becoming the Lone Ranger,

Who, in seeking justice, didn't pull it

(Trigger), just gave each a silver bullet.

"Hi-yo, Silver," he'd intone, "away-y!"

[Dust] leaving those he'd bulleted to say,

"Who _was_ that masked man? We who highly rank him

Didn't even get a chance to thank him."

Taunto rode with him, for it befell

That Taunto wanted justice served as well.

There was this "little" black mark to contemn:

The "white eyes" treating him as _less_ than them.

It wasn't long before the masked man knew

That Taunto carried bullets with him too.

And Taunto's taunting taught his "friend," no doubt:

**Use bullets to effectively point out**

 _LOOK!_ ] [**items that are** [he saw the grim portents]

**Separate—but _equal—_ in importance**.

Return with us now to those thrilling, if less than equal, days of yesteryear as the Lone Ranger rides again, Taunto, his trusty Indian companion/thorn, at his side. As the strains of the William Me Tellum overture die away, Taunto picks up where the cliffhanger left off, and resumes sharply poking the masked man in the ribs with his elbow, taunting him: "Lone Ranger say he never shoot kill, only wound. But Taunto have old wound to kill." "What's that, Taunto?" "White eyes think Indian not equal. Heap trouble come soon. You heedum, Kemo Therapay! You takeum Taunto's pow-wow how use bullets heap good:

  * You makeum plenty sure you introduceum bullets with double bullet (:) go heap _Bang! Bang!_ You see how Taunto doum above, now _you_ doum.
  * You takeum pains indent bullets from left margin, as heap good symbol how bullets left dent in Indian flesh, so white man, cancer upon Indian nation, know what feels like be indentured, like red man many many moons, to white eyes.
  * You keepum items parallel in grammar like tracks of iron horse. No mixum.
  * You startum each item with heap big capital and you endum with heap small period look like heap small bullet (.) teachum lesson small people.
  * You makeum sure bullets right size for job. Not too heap big, not too heap small.
  * You useum _real_ bullets. You _no useum_ smiley faces or like—unless you wantum Taunto go heap elbowistic and tauntum Lone Ranger. You understandum?"

"But, Taunto, if I were to catch someone's eye with even one such deadly bullet, it could _kill_ his image of the superior white man, whereas I only shoot to wound." "You gottum point, Kemo Therapay. You see heap 20/20. Now we go work shoot down sexist 'his.' "

**Use bullets sparingly**

****

** **

****

**_Dale Evans, Roy Rogers, and Bullet_** _in_ The Bullet Bore His Name.

"Roy, I've never known such a dogmatic dog when it comes to using bullets. He's got to put one in front of _everything_ he yaps in an effort to catch your eye. Case in point? Take these bullet points from his _Doggywood Star_ interview on the 'merits' of his Maximum-Force Overkill Bulleting Strategy® (translation courtesy of Humphrey Dogart):

  * 'Despite what writing experts say, a dog can _never_ use too many bullets.
  * When they begin failing to catch the eye, use bigger and BIGGER bullets . . . ' "

**  
**

170. His Cowgirl Didn't Spare Her Bullet Gripe

Roy Rogers' best friend in the western world

(Though he was most companionly cowgirled)

Was Bullet. Purebred German Shepherd, he

Put Roy's relationship in jeopardy,

For all that he was so atypical

A dog, one who was not say-typical

To say the least—and he'd a lot to say

For, yes, himself, for that was Bullet's way

Of getting Roy's attention (Rin Tin Tin

Had nothing like it): print in Bulletin.

Dale Evans, Roy's gal, had a Bullet gripe:

"Your dog is of the _English Setter_ type.

As much as he may be a faithful petter,

He's too _much_ the dogged a-typesetter

For my liking—bulleting each yip

And yap with that black typographic blip

Of his—not seeing, when _all_ get that mark,

_Not one_ stands out for all that he may bark

His fool dog head off—he just doesn't see

That **Bullets should be used** **** sigh] [**sparingly**."

"She's got a point there, Bullet," Roy said, trying his best to soothe Bullet's hurt feelings. "Not nearly as many as _he_ does, don't forget to add," Dale fumed in a state of vexation. "I've never known such a dogmatic dog when it comes to using bullets. He's got to put one in front of _everything_ he yaps—and he's got a king-size doggie bowl full of them—in an effort to catch your eye. Case in point? This interview he gave to _Doggywood Star_ magazine recently on the 'merits' of his Maximum-Force Overkill Bulleting Strategy® (translation courtesy of Humphrey Dogart). Here, see for yourself how deadly it is:

  * 'The first thing I'd like to point out is, despite what self-styled writing experts say, a dog can _never_ use too many bullets. Overexposure may apply to humans, but bullets—never. In fact, the more visible they are (I hang mine right out there on the left in plain sight) the more likely they are to get the bulletee's attention.
  * Second, when the number of bullets I use begins to diminish in eye-catchingness, I simply do as humans do: I use ever bigger and BIGGER bullets—at point blank range—to get my several points across. It's never failed me yet.
  * Third, Taunto, whom the Lone Ranger treats worse than a dog, was absolutely right in stating that said bullets should be indented. Me, I instinctively determine the depth by how emotionally charged the grievances are that set them off.
  * Fourth, when ordering, I always ask, 'How much is that in doggie dollars?'

"There, you see what I mean? As far as I'm concerned a dog like that is too clever by arf. My Buttermilk for a Dog Whisperer! _He_ 'd soon straighten that Bulletin-Tin-Tin of yours out." "Bullet," Roy whispers, "If you're smart you'll take my _lead_ —and button your lip."

33. Typography

_That's not writing, that's typing._

—Truman Capote on Jack Kerouac's _On the Road_

****

**Muhammad Ali Pretty? Not Like _Me_**

"I'm _pret-_ ty cute, as you can plainly see,

For rightness of my lean _Typography_ ,

_Italics_ no less, which makes, as you've seen,

My pretty capital _T._ _pretty_ lean

(You sigh)—and also pretty much the rest.

Yes, it's no wonder you are so impressed

With me, the way I come in upper case

_And_ lower case—oh, such a _pretty_ face

Have I, I'm not surprised that all who see

Me are as jealous of me as can be.

"I wish I had some numbers in my name;

I'd times by ten—or more—my pretty fame.

Yes, so dressed up in numerals _and_ letters,

Wouldn't I turn on all the typesetters

In the world! But I can see why God

Made me, _Typography_ , so number flawed

In name: I slim down pretty fast—like that!—

With my abbreviations—look, _no fat!_

I'm _Typog._—now just _Typ._ Yes, God was right:

So numbered, I'd be _too_ pret- _T._ a sight!"

Hmmph! Pretty _conceited_ , I'd say, wouldn't you, class? Especially since she was born plain blackface "Mechanics," and told it was "a stupid name enough!" which had no proper meaning she could ferret out, she could have wept for it—and did. Then Punctuation wooed her, cooing, "Look, if you leave Style flat—without you that's just what he'll be—and go with me, I'll do an extreme makeover on you: I'll make you _Typography_." "But—But aren't you going with Spelling?" "No, no, we're just good friends now. Besides, if you were to come between her and me she'd be in ecsta _see_ to incorporate your _italics_ , CAPITALS, numbers, and abbreviations into her spelling. It would justify her changing her name to Orthography. Say you will, my sweet, for I knew the moment I laid bullets on your classic Roman typeface that you are the type for me. But you will always be beautiful to me, no matter _what_ lovely font you appear in." "Oh go on with you—but before you do, let me say you should have seen what an adorable number I was in the _baptismal_ fon—" _I_ think we've heard quite enough from _Typography_ , class. If we let her go on it's _ten to one_ , TEN TO ONE, 10 2 1, or t. t. o. she will, starting with

34. Italics

_Anybody who thinks there are no left-leaning italics has never read **The New York Times** , **Los Angeles Times** , **The Washington Post** , **San Francisco Chronicle** . . . _

— _Bill O'Rightlean_

**_I'm Pretty, Sure! I Can't Be Too Emphatic_**

_"I'm just the type to lean right in and look_

_As pretty as a pretty picture book._

_I **emphasize** that I'm so pretty right_

_Of center that I'm such a pretty sight._

_Yes, I can't underscore my prettiness_

_Enough. By now I'm sure you've come to guess_

_I **never** underscore (my bottom line_

_Is never underline); such low design_

_Of emphasis I'd NEVER stoop to place_

_Beneath my pretty beautiful typeface._

__

_"Some do that to me, just to show how low_

_Some really lowdown low types stoop to go_

_To emphasize. Yes, that is what I do_

_The best, like **artworks** (Mona Lisa); too,_

_All **famous speeches** (Gettysburg Address);_

**_Long musical works_** _(La Bohème); and, yes,_

**_Sounds reproduced as words_** _(Woof! Gr-r-r! Meow!)_

_Oh dear! my end of verse is near? my bow_

_I must now take? Italex, Caesar—please!_

_Come! list my other pretty emphases."_

__

_Oh dear!_ is right, my little right-learners—some of you. _Italics_ went on so about how pretty she is that she got herself into a right pretty pass, didn't she? Yes, she ran out of verse before she had a chance to tell us about all the _other_ things she emphasizes. But then we needn't mention them here since _Italex Baldwin_ and the others will have more to say about these shortly.

Right now, what I want you to rack your little noodles over is _When do italics fail to emphasize?_ _Well, it's when, like bullets, they riddle the text to the point where the only thing one sees is that where everything is emphasized nothing is emphasized—isn't it?_ You see? You couldn't tell for looking that first _fail_ , then _nothing,_ and finally _isn't_ were emphasized, could yo—what's that? _But we couldn't see any of it!_ Well of course you couldn't. Just like you couldn't see that _any_ was emphasized. I was only _speaking_ right out, where even a child could see—you'd think—that _speaking_ was emphasized. Yes, and speaking of right, we should always look _both_ right ways before crossing the street, shouldn't we? Eh? _We were taught to look both right and left before crossing the street._ Yes, and that's because you were taught in a _daft_ -leaning Humpty Dumpty School, isn't it? If you'd been enrolled _here_ from Day One you'd have learned that the only time you have to worry about looking left is when some leftist Italian dictator like Mussolini has muscled his way into power, and is leaning so hard left that no one can believe he hasn't toppled—what? _Who's Mussel-leanie?_ Well, he's _dead_ , isn't he? The Allies did the only _right_ thing to do with a leftist dictator: they shot _Il Duce_ and publicly hanged him upside down—on a butcher's hook, appropriately—then let aggrieved Italians stone him till they taught him a bloody good lesson. At least _he_ learned, the hard way, setting a bloody good example for Hitler (two days later) of what happens to those who lean hard left before crossing the Allies.

But look here, I was wanting to say before you got me going on left-leaning pol _italics_ that it's like the little boy who cried _"Wolf!"_ Alarmed good Samaritans, the first few times they arrived breathless, cried, when they'd got it back, "Why, it's only _Wolf Blitzer_ , a partisan pol _italical_ animal who ironically leans _left_ of center. _He_ 's nothing to be afraid of. Look! He's not licking his slavering chops at all, but merely slaving away at his talking chops, while taking the latest licking the o'wily right-leaning fox has just given him in the _pols_ , slang for the woods he can't see for the trees." So, being good Samaritans, they did the only pol _italic_ ally correct right thing: they showed the Wolf the beaten path through the unfamiliar woods leading right to Grannie's house, knowing there'd soon be nothing _left_ of him once conservative old-school Grannie got through with him. And when next the little boy cried _"Wolf!"_ and it was the _Big Bad Wolf_ , who just happened to be in the _right_ place at the _right_ time, with a pronounced lean and hungry look, and no good Samaritans came running all out of breath—oh! that good-tasting little boy, who, ironically, had the _worst_ taste in overusing italics, leaning when he should have been _learning_ , couldn't have been sorrier he hadn't cried instead

**The Novel Rules of Italics**

**_Italex Baldwin_**

Use italics for titles of books, magazines, plays, operas, long poems, and motion pictures; names of ships, trains, aircraft, newspapers, legal cases; scientific names; foreign words and phrases

**_Itallica_**

Use italics to set off stage directions

**_Italixandre Dumas, Mary, Queen of Scots; Elizabeth I_**

Use italics for lower-level headings

**_Julius Caesar_**

Use Roman type to emphasize words in a passage that is in italics

**_Italex And/or the Great_**

Do not use italics for foreign words that have already become Anglicized

**Use italics for titles of books, magazines, plays, operas, long poems, and motion pictures; names of ships, trains, aircraft, newspapers, legal cases; scientific names; foreign words and phrases**

****

** **

****

_Right-leaning actorvist_ ** _Italex Baldwin_** _, naively looking for work in left-leaning Hollywood, moments after he failed to get the lean role in_ The Left Stuff. __

"I'd successfully leaned right in _Loot_ and _Serious Money_ on Broadway, so I packed up my stage credits and leaning-man good looks and headed for Left Coast _Hollywood and Vying_. Right! Everyone in Hollywood is vying for something: their name in lights, a star on the Hollywood Type of Fame. ONE little right-leaning break, and I'll be _right_ up there, a cushy seat to the right of Jay Leano on _The ToLean Show._ But the ugly truth is, _Hollywood and Vying_ is even more left-leaning than _Variety._ McCarthy was right . . ." 
**  
**

171. Look, Pal, We _Never_ Use Italics for . . .

Right-leaning actorvist _Italex Baldwin_

Headed for that hip Left Coastal cauldron,

Liberal, left-leaning Hollywood,

Fool, seeking stardom, hoping to make good.

He knocked on all the right doors (so he thought),

But they were all **left** (SLAM!)—and he was not.

Their treating him as not right for their screen

Left poor _Italex_ finding times were lean:

The way the mean mean leftie there was leaning,

Gave the phrase 'lean times' a whole new meaning.

Left so snubbed, he felt, _Italex Baldwin,_

Badly used—not _one_ film was he called in

For, and thus he learned when leaner more:

"In Tinsel Town they **Use _Italex_ for**

**All scientific names and legal cases;**

**All newspapers; foreign words and phrases;**

**Ships, trains, aircraft** [as the fashion leans];

**The titles of books, plays, and magazines;**

**Long poems, operas—and _motion pictures_**?

_Ri-i-ight!_ with all their far-left–leaning strictures."

_Italex Baldwin_ leaned right into the ACTORS WANTED section of _Hollywood and Vying_ [all italics his]. "Yes, everyone in Hollywood is vying for something: one little break; their name in lights; a star on the Hollywood Type of Fame; a seat to the right of Jay Leano (who leans whichever way the celebrity left wind is blowing) on _The ToLean Show._ ONE little right-leaning break, that's all I need, and I'll be _right_ up there with the biggies. But the ugly truth is, _Hollywood and Vying_ is even more left-leaning than _Variety._ The only right-leaning actor job is a small speaking role in _The State of California_ v. _Robert Blake_ : 'Experienced actor who can get up on the witness stand and lie, "The defendant, Robert Blake, was _right_ where he said he was at the time of the crime: 'Right innocent of it.' " Only experienced _right_ -leaning actors who've played one or more convincing roles in _The Liar's Club_ need apply.' I'd successfully leaned right in _Loot_ and _Serious Money_ on Broadway. But Right Coast Broadway wasn't Hollywood, the silver screen. So I packed my stage credits and leaning-man good looks on board _The Redeye Special_ and headed for the Left Coast. Hollywood. Tinsel Town. But _Agentum useluss, Executivis produsor, Studio headicuss_ all told me the same old thing: 'Look, we live here—and we can't even catch a taxonomic break much less a tax break. What makes you think we'd give you a break— _righty_?' They won't even let me read for a lousy bit part in Fodor's _How to Talk Left Coast._ 'That's left, buddy,' they all sneer, 'unless you know the left people, have the left connections, and lean far left typographically, you can kiss the role of Leftie in _The Left Stuff_ goodbye. One more thing: if you ever again make us lean right, in your writing or your speaking, you'll really never work in this town again!' Joe McCarthy was right."

**Use italics to set off stage directions**

****

** **

****

**_Itallica_** _leaning right into **Being Right: Nothing Else Matters**. Right to far right: Robert Trujillo, Kirk Ham-it, Lars Ulrich, James Hetfield._

Hetfield [ _grinning like a Cheshire hepcat_ ]: Whoo! we're ready to rock! Lean us _right_!

[ _First Roadie leans Hetfield up to the right of "Right on!"_ ]

[ _Second Roadie leans Ham-it up to the right of Rush Limbaugh_ ]

[ _Third Roadie leans Ulrich up to the right of Sean Hannity_ ]

[ _Fourth Roadie leans Trujillo up to the right of the National Rifle Association_ ]

Hetfield [as the fans go wild]: Houston, are you ready to ROCK? [it's Paris, Left Bank]

****
**  
**

172. Their Stage Directions were _Just Lean Us Right_

Huge heavy _rightal_ band _Itallica_ ,

The heaviest head-banging orchestra

To hit the road, played such _right on!_ _Ital-licks_ ,

Sang such leaning far _far-right_ vocalics,

Slanting so to right of counter-culture,

_Ultimate_ were they in far-right ulture,

Thus dependent on their righteous crew

To lean them up on stage, as roadies do,

So when fans pressed in on the stage, so bent,

They'd see _Itallica_ _right_ eously leant.

This setting up on stage was most complex

To get just _right_ the visual effects

So crucial to the image of the band

( _Ital-licks_ rightly warming up each hand).

Thus every roadie had his well-rehearsed

Directions so as not to get _reversed_

Each member's slant; each roadie knew it vital:

Wait your cue to get their image _rightal_ ;

**Use Ital-licks** __ [imaging complexions

All _just_ _right_ ] **to set off stage directions**.

__

First Roadie [ _putting his stage directions in italics and enclosing them in brackets, his ear right up to the amp_ ]: Make mine rhy, Jimmo. [ _James Hetfield, vocals, rhythm guitar_ ]

Hetfield [ _strumming guitar, practicing the rhythm method_ ]: Right on. How's the volume?

First Roadie: Good here. [ _trots stage right, puts his other deaf ear to the Marshall_ ] Ditto.

Second Roadie [ _giving a thumbs up_ ]: Let 'er rip, Kirkmeister. [ _Kirk Ham-it, lead guitar_ ]

Ham-it [ _hamming it up, he plays the opening riff for "Nothing Else Matters" at warp speed_ ]: O Roadeo, Roadeo! What thinkest thou, Roadeo? 'm I in tune with the universe?

Third Roadie [ _adjusting the mike in front of the bass drum_ ]: Gimme that ol' bottom line, Lars. [ _Lars Ulrich, drums_ ] Hang on a moment. [ _Roadie puts mike closer_ ] All right, now.

Ulrich [ _twirling his drumsticks, kicking out rapid-fire sixteenth-notes on the bass drum_ ]: How's that for a so-low drum solo?

Fourth Roadie [ _adjusting his headphones_ ]: Okay, Robbie [ _Robert Trujillo, bass guitar_ ] give us a little taste of your free-bassing magic. [ _Roadie chortles at his own base joke_ ]

Trujillo [ _running scales like a long-haul trucker, his fingers busier than a one-armed bass player_ ]: So what if I can only play first base? Nothing else matters.

Hetfield [ _grinning like a Cheshire hepcat_ ]: Whoo! we're ready to rock! Lean us _right_!

[ _First Roadie leans Hetfield up to the right of "Right on!"_ ]

[ _Second Roadie leans Ham-it up to the right of Rush Limbaugh_ ]

[ _Third Roadie leans Ulrich up to the right of Sean Hannity_ ]

[ _Fourth Roadie leans Trujillo up to the right of the National Rifle Association_ ]

Hetfield [as the fans go wild]: Houston, are you ready to ROCK? [it's Paris, Left Bank]

**Use italics for lower-level headings**

****

** **

****

**_Mary, Queen of Scots_** _playing "Pin the Tail on the Donkey," a lower-level B-heading._

"God help me, I hope _Italixandre Dumas_ is not going to be the official biographer of my decapitation. Elizabeth will announce my beheading, in **bold** high A-heading letters

**THE BLOODY BEHEADING OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS**

and he'll follow up with all the bloody details in lower-level B-headings in _italics_ :

_HER BLOODY TERRIFIED DEMEANOR: Her thin face was ashen as she put, blah, blah . . ._ "
**  
**

173. Her Grim Beheading Was All Right by Him

_". . . and then she smiled and knelt upon the cushion_

_(Nor did executioner need push on_

_Block her head); composed and rested there,_

_She said as calmly as 'twere nightly prayer,_

_'In manus tuas, Dominie' times three_

_(In your hands, God). Then her delivery."_

Nor did _Italixandre Dumas_ spare, he,

Grimmer comment on the death of Mary,

Queen of Scots: _"And then no further note_

_Of piety from out her severed throat."_

Low! Nor was he above to write, _". . . sore bled_

_Her severed parts when Mary lost her head."_

Grieved Scots were further horrified to read:

_"And how **blue** -bloodedly did Mary bleed!"_

As one they called for his head: "Bloody Frenchman!

Write so grimly of our—bloody _henchman_

Of the Royal Axe-man!—highborn Mary,

Will you? More, we'll get _high_ commentary

From the Bard—and **Use Italix for**

—Low!— **lower-level headings**. Queens? _No more!_ "

"There, you _see_? That's what happens when you don't use your head—you _lose_ it! It's all over, _kaput!_ from Latin _caput_ , 'head'; hence _de capitate_, transitive verb, so called because it bloody effectively assures one of making fast transit from life to death," Mary mused. Having placed her head upon the block and said her _In manus tuas, Dominie_ s, she found herself with a few remaining moments to think: "But then there are many grim levels of headings. Being highborn (a Tudor and a blue blood), my own is, of course, a very HIGH level of heading: a beheading. All right, it's not a _caput_ al A-heading. Nevertheless, it's customary (no pun intended) to put such **HIGH** headings in bold—as my very own 'dear' cousin, the _illegitimate_ heir to the throne, Queen Elizabeth I of England, has boldly done by coldly signing my death warrant. And yet, as they were putting on my blindfold, I couldn't help noticing, seated amongst the witnesses, French righter _Italixandre Dumas_ (I'd recognize him by his pronounced right lean anywhere). God help me, I hope _he_ 's not going to be the official biographer of my decapitation. I can see it all now: Elizabeth will announce my beheading, in **bold** high A-heading letters, as befits my highborn station:

**THE BLOODY BEHEADING OF MARY, QUEEN OF SCOTS**

and _Italixandre Dumas_ , author of _The Three Bloody Musketeers_ will follow up with all the bloody details in _lower_ -level B-headings in his customary right-leaning _italics_ :

_HER BLOODY TERRIFIED DEMEANOR : Her thin face was ashen as she put, blah, blah . . ._

_HER BLOODCURDLING LAST WORDS: She wept, "In manus tuas, Dominie," blah, blah . . ._

_HER BLOOD-SOAKED DRESS : She heedlessly, headlessly bled on her dress, blah, blah . . ._

And he'll go _right_ on writing of my bloody B-level beheading. I never thought I'd liv—"
**  
**

**Use Roman type to emphasize words in a passage that is in italics**

****

** **

****

_The Ides of March **:**_ ** _Julius Caesar_** _is beset upon by the Roman Senate who make their own Roman emphasis: assassination._

_"_ Look _, it is simple, as I've taken great pains to emphasize with each most unkindest cut of all: 'When in Rome, do as Romans do'; meaning, put your words in_ Roman _type. And when you wish to emphasize one or more of those words, put them in italic type. Still, like everything, this has its antithesis, which I much prefer: When in Italy, do as the Italics do: put your words in Italic type; and when you wish to emphasize one or more of those words, put them—_ like treacherous bloody knives in a Roman body— _in_ Roman type _. . . ."_
**  
**

174. He Emphasized His Pain in Roman Type

_"I, Caesar, Julius, the_ Roman _type,_

_An emperor of the Italic stripe,_

_Am fond of emphasizing, via naysay,_

_'Fall? Decline?_ No way! _Rome's in its_ heyday _._

Decadent _, our women, wine, and song?_

_Our Roman orgies two and three nights long?_

_Our throwing Christians in with hungry lions?_

_Spectacle of gladiators' dyings;_

_Deaths so bloody_ ****_entertaining, gory?_

Who _dares say shall pass such Roman glory?_

_" 'Veni, vidi, vici,' I once said._

_'I_ came _,_ _I_ saw _, I_ conquered _.' All but_ dead?

_The Roman Empire_ falling? _Roman bias,_

_Mine, says,_ 'Rome forever!' _" "Hail Gaius_

_Caesar,_ Emperor! _"_ Plebeians cried

In 44 B.C. (those who'd not died).

They duly aped his __ Roman-for-stress **** hype.

They'd learned, like Caesar, to **_Use_ Roman _type_**

**_To Emp-phasize words_** _[they were_ some _smart alecs]_

**_In a passage that is in Italics_** _._

__

_"Friends, Romans, Italics, lend me your eyes," Caesar stentoriously orates with an eye towards being quoted. [Mark Antony, lending his ears, thinks, "I must remember that. It would be the ideal way to begin some assassinated Roman emperor's eulogy."] It has been Romantically said: 'When in Rome, do as Romans do'; meaning, put your words in_ Roman _type. And when you wish to emphasize one or more of those words, put them in italic type. However, like everything, this has its natural antithesis, which I much prefer to follow, and which is: When in Italy, do as the Italics do: put your words in Italic type; and when you wish to emphasize one or more of those words, put them in_ Roman type, _as I so_ Romantically _do, for I, Julius Caesar, dare to boldly go where no emperor before me has dared go—_ cowards! _—which is to boldly_ split _my infinitives—no mean feat, I might add, given that the infinitive_ cannot be split _in Latin._ _[Gaius Grammarius, lending his ears, thinks, 'I must remember that. It would make an ideal_ non-rule _of grammar for us hidebound grammarians, a small yet powerfully dictatorial band of prescriptivists, to impose upon_ English _speakers for millennia to come.']_ _And yet I have a suspicious wife, of whom I don't hesitate to say (though not, it goes without saying, when she is lending_ her _ears), that 'Caesar's wife must be_ above _suspicion.' And so, friends, Romans, Italics, there you have it. I have boldly taken, and no less prescriptively stated, my position on using_ Roman type _within Italic_ _type_ _for eye-catching emphasis, and 'the_ die _is typecast'_ _[a small but treacherous band of assassin-types, lending their knives, take this as their cue, falling upon Caesar]._ _Well [to Brutus, in the act of delivering him the most unkindest cut of all],_ _I, Caesar, have taken_ my _typical cut-and-died stand upon this. Et_ tu, _Brute?"_

**Do not use italics for foreign words that have already become Anglicized**

****

** **

****

**_Italex And/or the Great_** _mangling foreign words so badly he leaves them manglicized._

_"There is but one country left for me to conquer and/or defeat: Mangland. So I'll ride all throughout this Land of the Mangles mangling anything that gets in my road and/or way. And what gets in one's way more than foreign words? Taking them as my just spoils, I'll spoil them and others that I've acquired in my great conquests so badly that they'll instantly become_ _manglicized. Then, aping and/or imitating me, Manglishmen/women will so commonly mangle them that they won't longer bother to put them in italics. . . ."_
**  
**

175. He Mangled Words and Left Them Manglicized

In ancient Macedon _Italex And/or,_

Yes, _the Great_ who conquered all by land/or

Sea, leaned so far to the right of warlike

And/or _ruthless_ he came off as more like

God of war than Mars the god of war

Himself: _Great,_ he was further and/or __ more

Than prone to mangle and/or maim the vanquished,

He, as look at them—to leave them anguished

And/or struck with grief, so far did he

Lean to the right of inhumanity.

Fresh from his making mincemeat of the Kurdz,

He aimed to do like grief to foreign Wurdz,

But ( _curse!_ ) he found the Wurdz—oh, not by _him_ —

Already had been mangled—limb for limb

Maimed __ and/or _gone!_ "— _Woe! whoso was so cruel_

_As me,"_ he cried, _"well knew the gruesome rule_

_Of conquerors—oh_ curse _those damned bright alecs_

_And/or smart who **Do not use Italex**_

**_For those foreign_** **** [how he agonized!]

**_Wurdz that have since become_** _—damn!—_ ** _manglicized_** _._

_" **To the victor the spoils!**_ _Yes, whenever I have ruthlessly vanquished and/or crushed another people, conquered and/or surmounted yet another portion of the known world, those are always the first words out of my Great big mouth. Spoiling for a mangling, I, Italex And/or, take as my rightful booty many foreign words that I then mangle and/or make mincemeat of even more ruthlessly (according to earwitness accounts) than I do foreign Wurdz. I began my campaign by annihilating the Persians in 334_ _B.C. when I was but eighteen and simultaneously at war with the Hormones (both tribes). By 325 __B.C. I, Italex And/or, had conquered virtually the whole known world and, somewhat less than virtuously, all the known women._ _Now there is only one country left for me to conquer and/or defeat: Mangland, Land of the Mangles. What a triumphal climax to my brilliant career of mangling anything that gets in my way and/or road that will be. And what gets in a person's way more than words, especially foreign ones? So I'll ride all throughout Mangland upon my legendary black steed Bucephalus; and no sooner will_ horde, mammoth, turkey, yoghurt, kaftan, Cossack, turquoise, poison, dinghy, loot, battalion, bordello, charlatan, frigate, aqueduct, victor, arsenic, bazaar, shawl, negro, turban, jungle, karma, pundit, yoga, nirvana, mosquito, alcohol, assassin, genie, hashish, monsoon, harem, sheik, hallelujah, rabbi, shalom, ginseng, _and_ kowtow _be out of my Great big mouth than they'll become_ _manglicized. Then, aping me, Manglishmen and/or Manglishwomen will so commonly mangle them that they'll no longer put them in italics, but follow my example of putting them in Roman. Then, I, Italex And/or the Great Mangler and/or victor will justly take my spoils for my Great conqu'ribution and/or despoliation to world semangletics."_
_  
_

35. CAPITALS

_Sell a man a big letter, he's a big shot for a day; teach him how to make it and you lose a capital business opportunity_

—Karl Marx, _Das Kapital Letter_

_Texting is very loose in its structure. No one thinks about capitalization or punctuation when one texts, but then again, do you think about those things when you talk?_

—John McWhorter

**THE BIGGEST BIG SHOTS OF THEM ALL—THAT'S ME**

"FROM A–Z I'M ONE BIG DEAL—NO SMALLS

AT ALL; THAT'S WHY THEY CALL ME CAPITALS.

BUT I JUST THINK IT WOULD BE BIGTIME COOL

IF you WOULD UP AND CALL ME 'MAJUSCULE.'

I'M _LATIN,_ you KNOW—YES, I KNOW, you SIGH;

I'M EVEN CAPITAL WHEN I AM I,

WHILE you __ AND __ it AND __ they __ AND __ he AND __ she

ARE lower-case small deals COMPARED TO ME.

'But _me_ **** is _me_ nuscule—not BIG!' you CRY.

ME, I'LL SHOW you—SEE? ONE _BIG_ SHOT AM I.

"FIRST-LETTER BIG IN SENTENCES AND TOWNS,

I'M JUST AS BIG IN OTHER PROPER NOUNS

LIKE PERSONS, GEOGRAPHICAL LOCATIONS,

RACES, STARS, THE PLANETS, AND RELATIONS,

DAYS, MONTHS, HOLIDAYS, COURSE NAMES, BRAND NAMES,

HISTORICAL EVENTS, RELIGIONS, DAMES,

SIRS (ALL SUCH TITLES), LANGUAGES, ALL THESE:

NEWSPAPERS, JOURNALS, NATIONALITIES,

THE NATIONS THAT THEY COME FROM—CAN'T you SEE

WHO EVERY ONE OF THESE BIG SHOTS IS? _ME!_ "

Land sakes! I'd say Capitals has one humongous EGO, wouldn't you, class? He puts one in mind of the Capitol that sits so low atop Capitol Hill in our nation's capital. Observe how the Capitol Bounders found sleeping there spell "Capitol" with a capital C. That's so you can plainly see, from whichever side of the aisle you're on, how it's symbolic of the open BIG MOUTH with nothing in it to say. Note, also, how they spell "Capitol" with an 'o' to represent the same open BIG MOUTH with nothing in it to say when viewed from the front and at the very great distance between the nothing it says it's going to do and the nothing it does. Finally, you see for yourselves how, in addition, they spell "Capitol" with a small "i" capped by a little wee point—eh? what's that? Here, somebody hand me my ear trumpet. __ Now, say again. _You can't see the point of "itol"_? Yes, well, to a word, that is precisely what the taxpayers say, isn't it?

But look here, I'm wise to your little tricks, slyly getting me to run off at the mouth about the Capitol so I won't be able to teach you about the capital—but it won't work. I aim to get it into your little noodles that every sentence begins with a Capitol, and this is true no matter what the Capitol Bounder was convicted of, which could be anything at all except principles. And so we see that they're right Proper Bounders, unless they're left to boot, which, despite the job description, no electorate has ever yet been able to apply the BIG TOE to fast enough, due to the shifty nature of the earth's pols

**Geographic locations:** _The_ _Beltway; D.C.; Willit-Plain, Peoria;_ the _Northfleeced;_ the _Southfleeced;_ the _Mouthwest;_ the _Moutheast._ Note, however, that all moral-compass directions ( _be honest, do the right thing_ ) are never Capitolized. Yet on the other hand waiting to be well greased, moral-compass directions that have been hopelessly lost are always Capitolized ( _Take The First Graft You Come To Congress For; Go Right On Being Crooked Till You Get To The Lobbyists; Take A Hard Graft To Prove; Keep Right On Going In This Direction Till You Come To The Pork In The Road; Then Take That Too_ ). Note, though, that when the _Beltway Boys_ go _south_ to the _South_ with your tax dollars, that _south_ , only a general direction and not a proper-named region like the _South_ , __ is not Capitolized. __ That's because said tax dollars are no longer in _Washington_ , "the nation's capital" (there's an oxymoron for you), having been spirited away in the _Northchest_ , the _Southchest_ , or any of the other points of the _Lost-Our-Moral-Compass_ the open BIG MOUTH calls home sweet home.

Oh, but there I go again opening _my_ big mouth, when I've already opened my moth bag, every one escaping along with a BIG capital expenditure for

**The Novel Rules of Capitals**

**Dennis Miller**

Begin a sentence with a capital letter

**Baron von Müncháusen**

Capitalize proper nouns

**Diane von Fürstenberg**

Capitalize the first word of every line of poetry

**Eric Burdon and the Animals**

Capitalize each important word in a book, play, magazine, or musical composition

**Begin a sentence with a capital letter**

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**_Dennis Miller_** _lays his "Sage of Southern California" wisdom on Bill O'Reilly._

"Sentences, Billy, just like people, start out with a big act, typecasting themselves into the upper _superior_ case, and all the rest into the lower _inferior_ case. But, unlike people, sentences actually _do_ start out big. It's their complete thought. Then they're humble enough to come down off their high horses for the remainder of their lives. But people, start out just as lower-case small as can be, scheming that some day, some way, _somehow_ they're going to end up with BIG CAPITAL. you'd never catch a sentence doing thiS."
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176. He Started Sentence with a Capital

"Oh, man, I really _killed_ them," Dennis Miller,

Stand-up comic, thought (charged as a killer).

"We the State shall prove, in their stage __ fright,

That Miller killed them—knocked them dead, all right!

We'll prove he did—a _capital_ offense—

And leave it in your hands to then dispense

Him justice for so—fiend! he _murdered_ them;

Two-fistedly committed the Big M!

Killed thousands! Witnesses will swear, come crunch time,

'Miller hit them—punch line after punch line!'

"Justice!—yes, we'll try him in this place,

This UPPER COURT, this crime so UPPER CASE.

We call to witness stand . . . ." There Miller jested,

Stand-up to the end. The People rested:

_Death Row!_ Miller's led there, comes to grieve

For Capitol G(ov.) letter: __ "No __ reprieve!

—Stand UP! _I_ 'll teach you stage fright." Miller, he

Was sent to death tense, sweating, begging _"Ple—."_

Too late he learned: **Beg in a sent-tense** [wetter

For it] **with a Capitol** BEG!] [**letter**.

Before his life sentence ended so terminally, Miller was served his last meal, certainly the oddest request Warden Bigg had ever granted—and served him right: a final monologue on uncensored HBO with fresh main laughter and a Miller Lite (his just deserts). But the weirdest thing about his last meal, about which he was not the least mealy-mouthed, was that, rather than _eat_ his words, bitterly digesting them in caustic peptic acid, Miller _spat out_ his mete and syllables in an ass-said diatribe upon the similarities between sentences and people: "Y'ever notice how sentences are just like people?" he began. "They like to start out with a big act, typecasting themselves into the upper _superior_ case, and all the rest into the lower _inferior_ case. It makes them feel really big. They live their whole lives that way. You could say it's their complete thought. Then, like people everywhere, when things are looking **black** all around them, what do they want? Right, _'clo-o-osure'_ (you gotta imagine Archie Bunker saying it). Likewise, people, ignoring the maxim _Be careful what you wish for_ , end up with some terminal illness, and it's the end. Taps. Kaput. Finis. A wrap. Curtains. Down the tube. Up the spout. Period. But hey, at least you gotta give sentences their props for having their priorities right. They actually _do_ start out big. Then they're humble enough to come down off their high horses for the remainder of their lives. But people, for all they _think_ they start out big, actually start out, yes, in _every_ case, just as lower-case small as can be—and never grow up. Small potatoes, they go through life dreaming, scheming, chasing after but one thing—the big M. They convince themselves that some day, some way, _somehow_ —even if they have to make a _killing_ or two—they're going to end up in life with BIG capital. you'd never catch a sentence doing thiS."

**Capitalize proper nouns**

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**_Baron von Müncháusen_** _recounts two of his truly remarkable exploits: riding a cannonball to the sun and back; riding a seahorse underwater across the Pacific Ocean._

"I straddled the end of a cannon, locked my fingers together over the cannon's mouth, and ordered the cannoneer _'Fire!'_ Such were the speed and trajectory of the cannonball impelling me through the sub-frigid air, that I was become a human icicle. But I persevered and was flown close to the sun, melted, and I fell to earth within the capital, with a healthy tan, and soon made the admiring acquaintance of other capitalized proper nouns such as **names:** _Alexandra Feodorovna_ ; **titles:** _Czarina of Russia_ ; __**countries:** . . ."
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177. He Capitalized on His Proper Nouns

" _I_ , Baron von Müncháusen, tell TALL lies?

I _flatter_ —it's a lie that she's all eyes!

She's all ears. She most flattered of them all?

Yes, capital! It's she I hold in thrall,

With some TALL lie? No, no, the irony

Is that each flat out falls for _flat_ tery

That flat out lies there, HIGHEST HIGH, and tops

Them all, the flat-out HEIGHT of ego props.

Yes, that is _my_ kind of TALL whopper noun,

The lowest (call it flattest) prop-her noun.

"Yet dummkopfs cry out, 'Put a _cap_ on, knock

The prop-her nouns, the ego-propping crock

Of lies off, shun such falsehoods so high-flown,

Reform—and _tell the truth!_ ' Fools! when it's known:

The TALLest lies of Baron von Müncháusen

That her gullibility allows in

(ALL) go to her head, each ego sopper;

Her heart melts at my feet good and proper.

Why then would I ever—flat-out clowns

To tell me!— **Cap it (TALL lies, prop-her nouns)**?

"I recall the campaign of '85, a winter so bitterly cold it was '85 B.C. I was singlehandedly laying siege to the capital, St. Petersburg, on all sides at once. So remarkable were my military exploits that whenever I tell them to a million or more no one believes me. They all do. Yet I, baron von müncháusen, was resolved to get into the capital as Baron von Müncháusen and, having made a capital fellow of myself, slash and stab and hack and chop my way under the bed of the defending proper noun, Czar Nicholas, and force him to surrender on equal terms. Ten million savage Cossacks encircling the mile-high walls glared down on me. I felt bad about the odds; but I evened things up by spotting them another ten million. I then straddled the end of a strategically positioned cannon, locked my fingers together over the cannon's mouth, and ordered the cannoneer _'Fire!'_ Such were the speed and trajectory of the cannonball impelling me through the sub-frigid air, that I was become a human icicle. But I persevered and, in time, was flown close to the sun, was melted, and presently fell to earth within the capital, with a healthy tan, and soon made the admiring acquaintance of other capitalized proper nouns such as **names:** _Alexandra Feodorovna_ ; **titles:** _Czarina of Russia_ ; __**countries:** _Liarland_ ; **states:** _Liedaho_ ; **regions:** _Lietin America_ ; **streets:** _Hollywood Bullevard_ ; **sacred writings:** _The Wholly Liebull_ ; **gods:** _Liehova_ ; **institutions:** _Fiberal Bureau of Investigation_ ; _Lieola University_ ; __**organizations:** _Liars Club_ ; **members:** _Baron von Müncháusen_ ; **historic events:** _Siege of St. Petersburg_ ; **periods:** _Mendacious Period_ ; **holidays:** _Baron Gets a Tan Day_ ; **races:** _Negro_ , _Indian_ , _Rat_ , _Tour de France_ ; **personifications:** _Dame Falsehood_ , _Lord Flimflam_ ; **trade names:** _Müncháusen_ _Syndrome by Proxy™_ ; _Baron's Own Untruth Serum®_ . . ."

**Capitalize the first word of every line of poetry**

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_Once again,_ ** _Diane von Fürstenberg_** _'s latest fashion line is the Fürst word in au currency._

"Okay, I wasn't the first to capitalize the first word of every line of verse. But I _was_ "The Fürst" to capitalize the Fürst® word of my every latest fashion line, which, each season, is lauded as pure poetry in cash-in. All right, I'm not the first to have designs on the above-mentioned poetry in denomination, but I am the _Fürst®_ to show that you can mix and match the lot to your heart's content, and the fashionably eye-catching ensemble is always perfectly, perennially coordinated. Nothing compares to it for currency. . . ."
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178. She Capitalized Her Fürst Word Each Line

" _Diane von Fürstenberg,_ I've got the biggers:

Big designs to be 'Fürst® word in figures';

Bigger yet designs (my burning passion)

To be quite the Fürst® last word in fashion.

So I've sunk all my big capital

F into my designs right _off_ the Wal-

Mart shelves, the bargain shlocky K-Mart racks,

And sold exclusively on those of Saks

Fifth Avenue and those of Bloomingdale's

To target ( _small_ -t) high-end, booming sales.

"The _haute couture_ Fürst® word in bringing cash in,

I make my lines poetry in fashion:

Hand designed by me, each fashion line

Each spring, each fall puts lovely _cash_ in mine.

I make each top-line _poetry_ , and make

My bottom line get BIGGER—goodness' sake!

But make my Fürst® __ word bigger? No! not me.

_Rich babes_ will rush to **Capitalize the**

**Fürst® word** (my first design and, they don't see,

My last) **of every line of poetry**.

"Okay, I wasn't the first to capitalize the first word of every line of verse. But it was for me, Diane von Fürstenberg, to capitalize the Fürst® word of my every latest fashion line, which, each season, is lauded as pure poetry in cash-in. And poetry, as the smart money knows, is a higher art form than verse. First, it's extremely rich in imagery, especially the images of Washington ($1), Jefferson ($2), Lincoln ($5), Hamilton ($10), Jackson ($20), Grant ($50), Franklin ($100), McKinley ($500), Cleveland ($1000), Madison ($5000), and Chase ($10,000)—capital fellows all! All right, I'm not the first to have designs on the above-mentioned poetry in denomination, but I am the _Fürst®_ to show that you can mix and match the lot to your heart's content, and the eye-catching ensemble is always perfectly coordinated and perennially fashionable. This poetry in fashion coordination alone should qualify the Fürstenberg image to grace some fashionable big denomination of currency. And since I am always in fashion, I nominate my current latest style, which I call _au courancy._ Yes, the fashion-conscious know they can always count on me to be _in currency_. So I could bring out a whole new line, coining a most fashionable phrase, say, 'IN DIANE VON FURSTENBERG WE TRUST,' capitalizing not only the Fürst® word but _every letter_ of this most capital line. True, I've never been president—but Hamilton, Franklin, and Chase weren't either. Nonetheless, I would be Fürst® to _de_ -nominate Coco Chanel, Elsa Schiaparelli, and Edith (Swell)Head for such fashionable distinction. Besides no longer having currency (nothing's sadder than an old, _dead_ -broke, out-of-fashion fashion designer), every one of their images would be the wrongheaded image for US. So trust in me, Diane Von Fürst-in-Big®, to capitalize the FURST® word of all my lines of poetry."

**Capitalize each important word in a book, play, magazine, or musical composition**

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_Capital recording Artists_ **The Animals**: (l-r) Alan Price, keyboards; John Steele, drums; _Eric Burdon, lead singer; Chas Chandler, bass; Hilton Valentine, guitar._

" 'Ere, lads, it's not 'ard to see 'ow we became filthy rich capitalists, now is it? Look at the titles in our discography. All the important words are _capitalized_." "Why didn't we capitalize _all_ of them then, Eric?" "Well we _couldn't've_ done that, could we? It would've been too bleedin' obvious we're _totally_ filthy capitalists. Fanimals would've turned on us. It's like in my big No. 1 tell-all _I Used to Be an Animal but I'm All Right Now_. I didn't capitalize three words in order to make us appear only summat dirty capitalists . . ."
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179. They Got Rich Capping Each Important Word

Each smashing hit that Eric Burdon and

The Animals, the '60s British band,

Had, starting with _'Ouse of the Rising Sun_ ,

It dawned on Eric one day, had begun

With one big, very _capital_ big letter

(Big in capital is always better),

As had every vital word within

The title—and the capital flowed in!

The more words capped (made bigger), all the more

The capital flowed in to _"More!"_ _"Encore!"_

Live, Burdon and the Animals would play

Their title hits and—capital!— _more_ pay

Flowed in. Important in the '60s scene,

They figured in each music magazine;

And each important word within each title

Capitalized thus bespoke one vital

Fundamental rule. Sang Eric Burdon:

" **Capitalize each important word in**

**The title of a book, play, magazine,**

**And music composition** , lads—BIG green!"

Eric was hardly singing the blues. " 'Ere, lads, it's not 'ard to see 'ow we became filthy rich capitalists, now is it? Just 'ave a look at the titles in our discography. Startin' with our first single, _Baby, Let Me Take You 'Ome_ , followed by our first __ No. 1 'it in America in 1964, _The 'Ouse of the Rising Sun_ , we went on to increase our capital all the more with _Don't Let Me Be Misunderstood, I'm Crying,_ and _Bring It on 'Ome to Me_ , to name just a few. D'yer notice anything about the lot?" "Yeah," Hilton Valentine [guitar] said, "They're all leanin' to the right—" "Of Musso-Leanie," Chas Chandler [bass] added. "But they're written in English," Alan Price [keyboards] offered. "There isn't one aspirated 'h' in the lot," John Steele [drums] observed. " _No_ , lads, open yer eyes. All the important words, all but four, are _capitalized_." "Why didn't we capitalize _all_ of them then?" Alan grumbled. "I could've been playin' a platinum- instead of just a gold-plated Baldwin." "Well now we _couldn't've_ done that, could we? It would've been too bleedin' obvious that we're _totally_ filthy capitalists. Fanimals would've turned on us. That's why we couldn't just get chatted up in _Billboard_ and _Down Beat_ , but 'ad to get gagaed over in _Beat of Britain_ , __ and _'O's 'O on the Music Scene_ (even though we aren't _The 'O_ ), so's to lend the impression we're not the filthy capitalists we are. It's like in my big No. 1 tell-all _I Used to Be an Animal but I'm All Right Now_. I didn't capitalize three words in order to make us appear to be only summat dirty capitalists. See, lads, that's why we always 'ad to play _the poor little beasts of Burdon_ . . . until they got wise to us pack animals, and we became overnight 'as-beasts." " 'Ere, Eric, yer don't suppose our self-titled _A Bunch Of Big Greedy Capitalist Asses_ (on Capital Records) 'ad summat to do with it then, do yer?"

36. Abbreviations

_But now a life cut short by an assassin's bullet; that, Mar, at least in my humble theatrical opinion, is quite the saddest of all abbrevia—_

—Abb. Lincoln

_Why is abbreviation such a long word?_

—Anon.

**So Now You Know Why Folks Get Short with Me**

"My _name_ is long, but I am really short

(You can't get shorter than 'I'). I'm the sort

To shorten titles, yes, both fore and aft.

No, _no one_ 's better at the shortening craft:

Familiar institutions, corporations,

States and territories; my truncations

Soon cut giant countries down to size,

And famous people—you should hear their cries

At being cut down in the prime of life;

Familiar objects also feel my knife;

"Words used with numbers, common Latin terms,

Long common phrases cry out, 'Oh! the _worms_

Have been at us again—and ate our treasure!'

So cry __ terms of mathematic measure.

Yes, I shorten (save my ego), fact;

But get this here straight: __ I do not _contract_.

Sometimes, to take a break from shortening,

I'll toy with people, play with some _long_ thing

Until they cry, for all my lengthy sport,

'Come _on-n-n-n_ , Abbreviations—cut it _short_!' "

_There,_ you see what I mean, my little short-attention-spans? How can we _not_ be short with Abbreviations? She no sooner tells us she is long than she turns right round and tells us she is short. But look here, there's no point in my (not _me_ ) discussing Abbreviations when I've hired Napoleon, Little Goody Two-Shoes, JFK, and MAMO to do that for me. So, my little abbrev. grownups, I'm cutting this pres. subj. of disc. short in order to intro.

**The Novel Rules of Abbreviations**

**Napoleon**

Use a period after most abbreviations

**Little Goody Two-Shoes**

Do not mistake contractions for abbreviations

**JFK,** **MAMO**

Don't confuse acronyms with initialisms
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**Use a period after most abbreviations**

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_Abbreviated in physical stature,_ ** _Napoleon_** _is not above demonstrating the verity of his aphorism, "An army marches on its stomach."_

"The **PNP** (Post-Napoleonic Period) over, we're into the **MNP** (Most _Nonexistent_ **** Period) in which **mods** feel free to leave the period _off_ most abbreviations. I just have to do the **math** to foresee in the **USA** invention of the **auto** in which **Ted** , **Phil** , **Nan** , **Jan** , **** passing driver **exams** , **** will set out **N** , **E** , **S** , **W** at high **rpm** s and 90 **mph** while listening to **AM/FM** radio, a **CD** , looking at **ad** s in a **pop-cult mag** , eating a **burg** or **sub** , __ yakking on **cell phones** , in mad pursuit of their piece of the **GNP** ( _Gross!_ No-period Period). . . ."
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180. His Exile Period Cut Short His Rule

By every posthistorical report,

Napoleon the First was brought up short:

But two and sixty inches, shamed, he got

One "great" BIG short-man's complex; this he fought,

His one lone tactic overcompensation,

At the Battle of Abbreviation,

For which he pronounced himself the "Most

Ill-shorted in a Military Post,"

And in short order (shirts as well as pants)

Pronounced himself thus: "Emperor of France."

He fought to conquer Europe, to his rue;

Met Wellington and— _woe!_ —his Waterloo:

His brief career as emperor truncated,

Bobbed, cut short, in short, abbreviated.

St. Helena: banished here for life,

Napoleon at last was short no strife:

His days of postrule exile myriad,

The Post-Napoleonic Period

Began. The world knew: **Use a** [post- truncations]

**Period post- "Most" abbreviations**.

"Post– **Mme.** Josephine ( **b. A.D. Thurs.** 23 June 1763, **d.** **A.D. Sun.** 29 May 1814), and post– **Mlle.** Marie-Louise ( **b. A.D. Mon.** 12 **Dec.** 1791—), my first and second empress **resp.** , I am _so_ short of love—and lonely—every **min.** , **sec.** of the day. I'd give _anything_ , **esp.** , **e.g.** , my short **phys.** stature, lack of **ht.** , **misc.** **pol.** ambitions, **etc.** , **inc.** a **doz.** or so excess **lbs.** , which add up to **wt.** , **** to see Josephine's **sing.** beauty, **i.e.** , her **ult. fem. fig.** , once more. For her I'd gladly give up my **geog.** exile on **St.** Helena ( **s.** of the Canaries, **w.** of Africa), and resume my **dim.** stature as **Emp.** Napoleon I, **Supr. Comdr.** of France **** ( **abbr.** **Fr.** ). Though short, it was some **hist. per.** while it lasted. Under my **admin.** I **inst.** the _Code Napoléon_ ( **pat. pend.** ), of many **pp.** , and on which I hold an **off.** **c.** to prevent **unauth. pub.** It **est.** the **Fr.** code of **civ.** law (an **orig. jud. prin.** ), the first law of which demanded that the **lang.** of the law be penned not in **colloq. dial.** , but in code so neither **Fr. nob.** nor the **com.** people, together called the **pop.** , could understand it. But now, the **PNP** (Post-Napoleonic Period) over, we're into the **MNP** (Most _Nonexistent_ **** Period) in which many interpret the law _Use a period after most abbreviations_ to mean that they, most **mod** , most **fash** , are free to leave the period _off_ most. I just have to do the **math** to foresee in the **US** of **A** the invention of the **auto** in which **Ted** , **Phil** , **Nan** , **Jan** , **Ed** , **Tim** , **Liz** , **Fran** , **Vic** , after taking driver **exam** s, **** will set out **N** , **E** , **S** , **** and **W** at high **rpm** s and ninety **mph** to conquer the world while listening to **AM** _and_ **FM** radio, a **CD** , looking at **ad** s in a **pop-cult mag** , eating a **burg** or a **sub** , __ and yakking on **cell phone** s—all in mad, _shortsighted_ pursuit of their little piece of the **GNP** ( _Gross_ No-period Period). I never ever thought I'd live to say this but may my days be short, my **obit** not long in coming."

**Do not mistake contractions for abbreviations**

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**_Little Goody Two-Shoes_** _, Mother life-shorteningly discovers, is having strong contractions._

"But, Mother, **what's** the harm of mistaking contractions, as **I've** boldly been having, **they're** closer now, for abbreviations? **Isn't** each an **econom.** way of making words shorter?" " _Goodness me_ , Goody, each is, just as every confusion of the two makes my life shorter—by **_yrs._**! But each does its shortening in a very different way. You see, a contract—" "But, Mother, do we always have to know what a word **that's** short of letters is when we use it? **Can't** we just use it, whether **it's** a contraction or an **abbrev.**? . . ."
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181. Contractions Cut Short Her Poor Mother's Life

"Oh, my, I **can't** ," Miss Little Goody Two-Shoes

Said, "take off—I **sha'n't** take off my new shoes.

No, **they're** much too nice; I love them so;

**I've** never had such shiny, squeaky—oh,

I **mustn't** , no, take off my brand new hat,

You see, **I'm** much too much in love with that.

And, oh, I **daren't** take off my new dress,

I **couldn't** , **shouldn't** _—_ **what'd** Mother—" "Bless

Me, Goody," Mother overhearing said

As Goody Two-Shoes played upon her bed.

"Whatever [worried] are you playing at

Here in your brand new shoes and dress and hat?"

"Why, Mother, I'm just having strong contractions,

'Closer' now [well, fancy the reactions

Mother had], **they're** with me in my room,

Along with **bro.** , **sis.** , **c.o.d.** —" "By _WHOM?_ "

It came to light, confusion of the two

Contractions, by and by. Said Mother, " _PHEW!_

**Do NOT, Miss** [oh, poor Mother's ulcerations!],

**Take contractions for abbreviations**!"

"But, Mother, **what's** the harm of mistaking contractions for abbreviations? **Isn't** each an **econom.** way of making words shorter?" " _Goodness me_ , Goody, each is, just as every confusion of the two makes my life shorter—by **_yrs._** But each does its shortening in a very different way. You see, a contraction, like **I'm** , **you've** , **they're** , **fo'c's'le** takes a letter or letters out of its middle, and puts one or more apostrophes in its or their place." "You mean like I came out of your middle, and a _pasta feed_ was put in my place?" "Er . . . um . . . uh . . . something like that—oh but an _abbreviation_ ," Mother said hastily, changing the subject, "like **min.** , **sec.** (she almost said **bro.** , **sis.** ), takes letters off its back end and puts a bare period in their place." "Oh, you mean like we take leggings off our backsides, and put a period of bare-nakedness in their place?" "Well, er . . . uh . . . [blushing crimson] uh . . ." "Oh, but, Mother, what about _fore_ shortened words such as (tele) **phone** , **** (panto) **mime** , (aero) **plane** , (news) **paper** , **** (taxi) **cab** , **** (inter) **net** , (omni) **bus** that have letters taken off of their _front_ ends? Shouldn't they have periods in _front_ of them?" "Umm . . . uh—" "And what about words like **Mr.** , **Mrs.** , **Jr.** , **Sr.** , **Dr.** , **hr.** , **bldg.** , **govt.** , that have letters taken out of their middles, but no apostrophes are put in their places; and have nothing taken off their tail ends, yet have periods on them as if something was? What do we call them?" "Er . . . well . . . why . . . uh—" "Isn't this your **dept.** , Mother?" "Why . . . er . . . um . . . we call those, uh . . . [perspiring] _exceptions_ —to the rule." "But, Mother, do we always have to know what a word **that's** short of letters is when we use it? **Can't** we just use it?" "Well . . . uh . . . ." Mother, who by now was short of patience, faltered, resolving: "From now on whenever Goody has contractions **I'm** just darned well going to keep **mum** — _period_."

**Don't confuse acronyms with initialisms**

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****

_Initially,_ ** _JFK_** ** __**_has difficulty making eye contact with sound acronym_ ** _MAMO_** ** __**_as she wishes him_ _ "Happy 45th birthday," but in time he succeeds, as RFK looks on admiringly. _

"MAMO, my lovely, maybe you're not such a BUBBBLEHEAD ( **B** eautiful **U** nder- **B** rained **B** usty **B** londe **L** alaland **E** ntertainer **H** ardly **E** ducated **A** t **D** artmouth) after all. Did you notice I spelled out BUBBBLEHEAD, being the first time I used it?" "Yes, but you kept me wondering with MAMO ( **MA** rilyn **MO** nroe), JACK ( **J** ohn **A** lias **C** amelot's **K** ing). How about if I just call you a SOB!" "I'd, uh, like to say _No!_ Don't you know you can't use _a_ before _an_ S when sounded as a letter?" "I know I don't _love_ you anymore, JK ( **J** ack **K** ass)! . . ."
**  
**

182. Initially He Liked Her Acronym

Said JFK to MAMO (she was hot),

"I'm an initialism—and you're not.

I see [she stood there idolizing him]

That you're a very, uh, _sound_ acronym

Whose parts are spoken as a single word:

Of MArilyn MOnroe, but MAMO's heard;

Of John Fitzgerald Kennedy, my dear,

Initials—JFK—are all you hear.

So **Don't confuse an acronym for an**

**Initialism; you use _a_ or _an_**

****

" **With both according to pronunciation**

**(Say an M-O, but a NATO nation).**

**If uncommon, spell each out the first**

**Time that you use it** **** (don't, and you'll be cursed) **;**

**And don't use periods with acronyms**

(Though MAMO gets high _points_ for all her limbs).

**Initialisms** **** ( _r.p.m._ s) **look better**

**If a dot comes after every letter.**

**Words get SMALL caps, but initials TALL**."

"Yes, CEOs get big ones—DINKs get small!"

"I'd, uh, like to say this about that, MAMO my lovely," JFK said, taken aback. "Maybe you're not such a famed BUBBBLEHEAD ( **B** eautiful **U** nder- **B** rained **B** usty **B** londe **L** alaland **E** ntertainer **H** ardly **E** ducated **A** t **D** artmouth) after all. I trust you noticed how I spelled out BUBBBLEHEAD, being the first time I used it." "Yes, but you kept me wondering with MAMO though, didn't you—JACK ( **J** ohn **A** lias **C** amelot's **K** ing)?" " _I_ didn't bring MAMO up; it was frosty-haired poet Robert Frost. He read at my inauguration, you know. He's good at putting words in my mouth. You notice how he had me use small caps for both, and dispense with the periods, since BUBBBLEHEAD and MAMO are true acronyms spoken as words rather than letters? I pointed those distinctions out to LBJ and RFK (note the large caps) only this a.m. Did you notice how I used periods with 'a.m.' because it's in lowercase? Which, I might add, took no small amount of profiles in courage." "Yes, but you didn't use periods with LBJ and RFK, even though they're initialisms, did you?" "Well, my dear, that's because they're household _words_ , __ aren't they?" "Well, f.y.i., that sounds to me like so much c.y.a for an SNAFU you make periodically—only a lot more oft—" "No, no, my dear, you mustn't use _an_ before a _word_ beginning with a consonant. Don't you know anything besides looking beautiful?" "All right, how about if I just call you a SOB!" "I'd, uh, like to say _No!_ Don't you know you can't use _a_ before _an_ S, big or small, when it's sounded as a letter?" "Well I know I don't _love_ you anymore—JK ( **J** ack **K** ass)!" "That's all right, sugar. I'll be in Dallas soon—and you can't say _Dallas_ doesn't love me." "And you can't say that sleeping pills don't love _me_. But, Jack, do let's not be short with one another." " _No_ , _no_ , __ my sweet BH. We could end up with abbreviated lives."
**  
**

37. Numbers

_If a writer has to rob his mother, he will not hesitate: The "Ode On a Grecian Urn" is worth any number of little old ladies._

—William Faulkner

_Well if I called the wrong number, why did you answer the phone?_

—James Thurber

**_Some_ Numbers That You Didn't Figure On**

"My **six** y figure's __ letter perfect—great!

**Two** more and I've an hourglass figure **eight**

That's figure-rated, to **one hundred** , _fine!_

Quite letter-perfect, **one** that is **** to **** pine

For, cast a spell on you; and when I'm more

Than **one** I'm **one** _swell_ number men adore

Up to **one hundred**. Past, I'm into _figures_

Like **1,000,000** —dear to all gold diggers

**(** ' ** _Seven_** figures—figure _perfect_ number!')

Figure on some sleep? How could I slumber,

"From my **zero** catch **one** single z,

When I've _so many_ figures I must be!

Look, do the math; you'll figure, as I've done:

I'm such a figure-, letter-perfect **one** (?)

I've got to figure on your getting older

Every **second** —adding, all the bolder,

How much bigger, older yours has got,

How less and less your figure is from hot.

Come, tell me, as I add each figure, letter,

Doesn't mine, compared, look all the better?"

_Well!_ Numbers puts on a number of airs, doesn't she, class? Small wonder she doesn't sleep. But everyone hush now, because Numbertha is going to tell us **one** more thing we know about Numbers, aren't you dear? _When she's **one hundred** or less she's letter perfect; and when she's **101** or more she's figure perfect._ Yes, _answer_ perfect! Or is it? Just this **second** (not **2nd** ), **one** or **two** odd **one hundred** -or-less exceptions leap to mind: _dates_ (December **7** , 1941; _fractions_ ( **1/10** the required attention span); _percentages_ ( **0** % chance of passing); _scores_ (Spinster Hardliners **18** , Darlings United **0** ); _decimals_ ( **3.50** tests per day); _addresses_ ( **66** W. **99th** Avenue); _ranges_ (between **6** and **8** years old); _time_ ( **6:00** A.M.– **9:00** P.M.); _units of measure_ ( **3** feet **2** inches); _finances_ ( **$25.00** , **.99c** ).

Well I'll be! Those **one** or **two** exceptions turned out to be a **gazillion** , _another_ exception. **'Gazillion,'** more than **one hundred** , should be expressed in figures, but, mercy, who has the stamina to write out the number of **zeros** in a **gazillion**. **** Not Numbernice. **101** zeros is about her limit— _another_ exception: _Don't start a sentence with an actual numeral._ **1927** was the year some numbskull numerologist came up with that rule. But it's okay to start one with a year like **1927** , he ruled. It was the **11th** rule he'd made up that day, the **10th** being _It's okay to mix numerals and letters to make ordinal numbers_ like **9th** , which he'd made up to make up for _When one number follows another, write out the longer number in numerals and the shorter in letters_ ( **41 first** -grade learnniks, **three 200** -amp fuses).

Oh, but why don't we let those who are great with figures and pretty swell numbers, even if they _aren't_ Marilyn Monroe, Jayne Mansfield, Gypsy Rose Lee, and Anna Nickel Smith, enlighten us with

**The Novel Rules of Numbers**

**Sherlock Holmes, Watson**

Figures are sometimes used to represent numbers in special cases

**William Words'-worth, Lord Byron**

Use words in place of figures in some special uses

**Lou and Nina Rawls**

As a rule, prefer Arabic numerals to Roman

**Jayne Mansfield, Gypsy Rose Lee**

When a number can be expressed in not more than two words, write it in words; when a number can be expressed in no less than three words, use figures

**Anna Nickel Smith, J. Howard Marshall**

For numbers _zero_ to _one hundred_ use words; for numbers over _one hundred_ use figures

**Lucky Luciano**

Never start a sentence with a numeral

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Commas**

**Pope Pie-us-in-the-Skyus**

Use a comma or commas to separate thousands, millions, etc., in writing figures

**Dashes**

**Dash—Heel Hammett, Lillian Heel-Man**

Use a dash to indicate missing letters/connect combinations of letters and figures

**Apostrophes**

**Owen Napostro**

Use an apostrophe to show that letters or figures have been omitted

**Rules of Thumb—But Not Me!**

**J. P. More-Than, Andrew Carnegie**

Always use _more than_ instead of _over_ with numbers
**  
**

**Figures are sometimes used to represent numbers in special cases**

****

** **

****

**_Watson and Sherlock Holmes_** _closely examine the number in question for clues._

" _What's the bleedin' difference between a figure and a number?_ A telling clue, Watson, because all we need do is follow the bloody trail and . . . aha! A number of clues by which we can figure on solving the mystery of 'The Case of Numbers Soften Represent Figures ( **36–24–36** ).' It is not only obvious but elementary, my dear Watson, that the case is very special since, of these figures, we see two **3** s, two **6** s, one **2** , and one **4** , proving that a racy figure is _always_ a number, but a number is not always a racy figure. . . ."
**  
**

183. Her Number Was a Special Case. _Go, Figure!_

Whenever Scotland Yard, that paradigm

Of solving, fails of some confounding crime,

Redounding to its whole-nine-Yard disgrace,

Sleuth Sherlock Holmes is called in on the case.

This time a stunning hourglass-shaped number

(Fox dead ringer) gets Holmes up from slumber,

SYing. "Look, Holmes, We can't figure out

How she—dead ringer for a fox, no doubt—

Got her hot figure in this fix of fixes:

24 between two 36s."

Holmes takes his sweet time, weighs all the clues.

He holds them in his arms; they soften ( _ooh!s_

And _ahh!s_ ). A long time held, he says, "Deduction:

Special case this; one of soft construction;

_Shapely_ figure; getting softer by

The second— _warmer_. __ Yes, some number, SY.

I've solved 'The Special Case'; it wasn't hard

At all. It's elementary, Scotland Yard,

See, **Figures _soften_ represent** (hot!) **numbers**,

SY, **in special cases**. Goodbye, slumbers!

"Now here's something you didn't figure on, Watson, a fact I deduce merely by your lack of a dashing one: while figures are often used to represent numbers in special cases, it is as often the case that numbers are used to represent figures, as we so delightfully saw in 'The Special Case of 36–24–36.' But let us return, oh so reluctantly, to the former case, and examine the many ways in which numerical figures are used to represent figurative numbers, that we might figure on solving this latest mystery that so flummoxes the Yard: _What's the bleedin' difference between a figure and a number?_ A telling clue, Watson, because all we need do is follow the bloody trail and . . . aha! What do we discover but numerous clues that leave us totally in the dark—yet enlighten us perfectly. Look here: You were born July **14, 1849** , at **12:21** A.M.; you reside at **11401/2** Drury Lane; your telly is **020 29841635**. You used to live on the No. **10** Road for **11** years, **9** months, **24** days, **13** hours, **12** minutes, **47** seconds. You had every intention of leaving home at **9** o'clock sharp, but at **8:10** A.M. __ ( _not_ **8:10** o'clock or **8:10** o'clock A.M.) you thirsted and poured yourself a stiff drink of **180** -proof Scotch whiskey ( **90** % alcohol), for which you paid **£1-8-4d** ( **$3.48** in U.S. currency). You then sat down with _The Life of Arthur Conan Doyle_ , turned to chapter **3** , and read pages **99–138**. You left tipsy at **9:31:56** A.M. Now, in 'The Case of Numbers Soften Represent Figures ( **36–24–36** ),' it is not only obvious but oh so elementary, my dear Watson, that the case is special since, of these figures, we see two **3** s, two **6** s, one **2** , and one **4** , proving that a racy figure is _always_ a number, but a number is not always a racy figure. Oh, and two mad dashes: mine and your dashed hopes of ever impelling your **22.01** stone/ **139.99** kg/ **307** lb **14** oz figure to the racy figure— _before me!_ "
**  
**

**Use words in place of figures in some special uses**

****

** **

****

_Lake Poet_ ** _William Words'-worth_** _gets a commission from an "awestruck admirer."_

"Bah! _what_ special uses?" Words'-worth spat out indignantly. " _Numbers under 101_ ( **one** Hallmark® of a poet is **ninety-nine** lines of doggerel)." "Tinternabby! What else?" " _Numbers at the beginning of a sentence_ ( **Three** Lake Poetasters on the pinhead of a pin)." "A host of golden daffiness! What else?" " _Stand-alone fractions_ (Lake Poets' skins are **one-one-hundredth** of a millimeter thin, their numskulls **one-tenth** of a meter _thick_ )." " _Wait-t_ **1** **2cond** — _I_ know you. You're—" " **One** Lord Byron at your surface." . . .
**  
**

184. He Got His Words'-worth (Lord!) in Place of Figures

Lake Poet William Words'-worth hung his shingle

Out to earn a little extra jingle:

"Poems made to order while you wait.

You get your words' worth—and a second date—

My _guarantee_ , or else I'll give you back

Full double your illiteracy—hack

The poor thing out yourself, each hard-won letter,

If you think—hah!— _you_ can pen one better

To that special someone, let me guess,

That you are sighing, dying to impress."

There came a rapping on the wordsmith's door:

"Look, Words'-worth, there's a number I adore;

_Some special!_ number with a figure that

Won't quit; I want to say I dig __ her. Fat?

Don't play _that_ figure!" Words'-worth wrote: "My flower /

Figure yours gets BIGGER—by the _hour_ /

Swelling, spreading . . ." Oh! how that man sighed,

For Words'-worth's _worthless_ figure plays, and cried,

" **Use _words_ in**—NOT __ Word's- _worthless_ word abuses!—

**Plays of figures in _Some special!_ uses**."

"Bah! _what_ special uses?" Words'-worth spat out indignantly. " _Numbers under 101_ ( **one** Hallmark® of a poet is **ninety-nine** lines of doggerel)." "Tinternabby! It would take **one hundred and one** of you to make up **1** of my worst poems." "You said it—all wrong!" "Phooey! What else?" " _Indefinite expressions_ _and_ _round numbers_ (these early **eighteen hundreds** are the error of the Lake Poets; you've got about **two hundred** words in your vocabulary)." "Is that so? Well what if I write figures ( **1800s** , **100** words)?" "You could —but not _my_ figures." "Why not?" " **Once** bitten, **twice** shy." "You mean I couldn't write **1nce** bitten, **2wice** shy?" "NO—times **two**! **First** off, you put the cardinal sin before the worse; and, **second** , you're a **third** -rate poet." "Intimations of partiality! What if I should say you're my **1rst** customer, my **2cond** choice—and your i. Q. is in the low **70ths**?" "A **billion** times no! Now you're mixing awfuls and ordinals." "What else?" " _Numbers at the beginning of a sentence_ ( **Three** Lake Poetasters on the pinhead of a pin. **One thousand** conceits lie therein)." "Are you likening us Lake Poets to pinheads?" "You said it." "A host of golden daffiness! What other words for figures must I write?" " _Numbers preceding a compound modifier containing a figure_ ( **three** 1/1,000,000-gram pinheads per square centimeter of conceit)." "The word is too much with me!" " _Stand-alone fractions_ (Lake Poets' skins are **one-one-hundredth** of a millimeter thin, their numskulls **one-tenth** of a meter _thick_ )." "Ooooh, what if a certain blockhead were to get **1** fractured skull." "I'd say he's already got **one** —and that's just fine with m—" " _Wait-t-t-t-t_ **1** **2cond** — _I_ know you. You're—" " **One** Lord Byron at your surface." "You wrote that scurrilous epic _Don **1**_ in **17** _can't_ os. Sure, George Gordon Byron. Lord! I recognized you by your bawdy at **1nce**."
**  
**

**As a rule, prefer Arabic numerals to Roman**

****

** **

****

**_Lou "Noomer" Rawls_** _is in hot Gulf of Oman water with wife Nina over an interview._

"Ohh, _man!_ Just look at this interview I gave to Italy's pro-Roman journal _Roman Orgy._ " She reads: "My first No. **I** hit? _Yeahhh_ , buddy, that was sweet: 'Love is a Hurtin' Thing.' The year was **MCMLXVI**. I was **XXXIII**. I recorded it in **MCMLXV**." "An _orgy_ —of _Roman_ numerals! Yes, I _see_." "Honey, honest to God. I spoke in _Arabic_ numerals. How was I to know she—" " _She!_ Yes, I see it all clearly now." "No, wait, sweetheart, you don't understa—" "Were you or were you not involved in a _Roman Orgy_?" "B—But . . ." 
**  
**

185. _Use Arabic, Not Roman_ , He Now Sings

Lou "Noomer" Rawls, throughout his long career,

Had Noomerous hit songs, year after year.

Not one was No. 1 (it made him cry

That many a one wound up No. **I** ).

His first **I** hit the charts **XLIX**. Swell!

Next week it was **XL**. "Hey, that's **XL** -

ent!—or _is_ it? Is that **XL** Roman

Numeral a good—or a _bad_ omen?

Now it's up(?) to **XXIV** — _Yes!_

It's on its way to No. **I** . . . I guess.

"Look! Now it's broken into the Top **X**

—It's No. **IX**!—Now it's **V** (for vex?)

Confound these most confounding numerals!

The _one_ thing they do is ill-humor Rawls.

Who penned them wrote with trademark _Roman_ yen,

Not my choice: Arabic (good Oman) pen.

—It's No. **I**! (the top?) Please, God, erase

All doubt by _No. **1**_ scribed in it's place.

I, __**As a rule, prefer the use of Arab**

**Bic®, Noomer Rawls, to Roman**." [God: _A fair rub._ ]

"Ohh, _man!_ " Lou sang out to wife Nina. He had just sat down in their Gulf of Oman villa overlooking the Arabian Sea to read the interview he'd recently given Italy's pro-Roman journal _Roman Orgy._ "What is it, dear?" "Oh, man, I can't believe it. Will you get a load of this." She reads: "My first No. **I** hit? _Yeahhh_ , buddy, that was sweet: 'Love is a Hurtin' Thing.' The year was **MCMLXVI**. I was **XXXIII** at the time. Of course I had recorded it way back in **MCMLXV**. It was **I** of **XIV** tracks on my first honest-to-God soul album, appropriately titled _Soulin'._ Sales on Day **I** alone reached **MMMMMMCMXCIX**. **** Soul brothers and sisters were so crazy about it they were buying **II** , **III** , **IV** , **V** , **VI** , **VII** , **VIII** , **IX** —as many as **X** copies to give to friends and loved **I** s. _Yeahhh_ , buddy, that was _sweet._ But it was another **X** years before I had my most successful No. **I** ever, 'You'll Never Find Another Love Like Mine.' The year was **MCMLXXVI** , the **CC** -year anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence on **IV** Julius **MDCCLXXVI**." "An _orgy_ —of _Roman_ numerals! Yes, I _see_ ," Nina said icily. "Honey, honest to God—listen to me. When I gave that interview I spoke in nothing but _Arabic_ numerals. How was I to know she—" " _She!_ Yes, I see it all clearly now." "No, wait, sweetheart, you don't understa—" "Were you or were you not involved in a _Roman Orgy_?" "B—But, honey, it was only a newsp—" "If I _ever_ catch you in an **X** -rated _Roman Orgy_ again, unless it's in reference to sovereigns (Henry **VIII** ); popes (Pope Pius **XII** ); to number the introductory pages to a book ( **i–xxii** ); designate chapters and verses (Chapter **II** Act **IV** Scene **iii** ); christen our newborn baby son Lou Rawls **II** , or our new yacht Nina **I** , it's over between us two— _capiche?_ " "You mean 'us **II** ' don't you, dear," Lou Noomer Rawls started to say, but thought better of it.
**  
**

**When a number can be expressed in not more than two words, write it in words; when a number can be expressed in no less than three words, use figures**

****

** **

****

**_Jayne Mansfield_** _, a pretty full-figured number,_ vs. _Gypsy Rose Lee, a pretty swell figure._

"It's just not _fair_ , Gypsy Rose Lee. Because I'm a very buxom, **two** thsome number who can be expressed in **two** words, I have to write both of them— **Jayne Mansfield** —out in _words_. But you, a not-so- **two** thsome-as-me number expressed in **three** words, Gypsy Rose Lee, get to spell yours out in _figures_ : **37–23–36**." "Well now, honey, if you hadn't gone and changed your name, and you were still bulging, **three** -word Vera Jayne Palmer, you'd be able to write yours out in figures, too, though they'd be fulsomer: **40D–24–37**."
**  
**

186. Poor Jane! She Only Had a Two-word Figure

Jayne Mansfield, fuller-figured, toothsome—whoa!—

Was **one** swell number; all knew she was so

Divinely blest by her Creator, bigger

Where it fully counted—in her figure.

At the same time there was Gypsy Rose

Lee who, too, figured pretty swell in those.

But whereas Jayne had **two** of them, Rose Lee,

By God, was so __ endowed that she had **_three_**

Words in her name to show off—and she showed

Them, Gypsy Rose Lee, she so **three** -bestowed.

"God, why does she," sobbed **two** thsome Jayne to God,

"Get **_three_** _,_ a number that is (sob!) so awed?

Already a swell number, even though

Less swell than me—how come she gets to show

Her _stripper-showoff!_ figure to the men,

In figures?" God spake: _Yea, it's simple: **When**_

**_A numbe r_** _(swell)_ ** _can be expressed_** _(no thirds)_

**_In not more than two words, write it in words;_**

**_But when a number_** _(swell) **can be expressed**_

**_In no less than three words, use figures_** _(blest)._

"It's just not _fair_ , Gypsy Rose Lee," Jayne pouted. "Because I'm a very swell, **two** thsome number who can be expressed in **two** words, I have to write both of them out (sob!)—in _words_ : **Jayne Mansfield**. But you, a not-so- **two** thsome-as-me number expressed in **three** words, Gypsy Rose Lee, get to spell yours out in _figures_ : **37–23–36**." "Well now, honey, if you hadn't gone and changed your name, and you were still bulging, **three** -word Vera Jayne Palmer, you'd be able to write yours out in figures, too, though they'd be fulsomer: **40D–24–37**. **** But since it only has **_two_** , you'll just have to go on writing out your fulsome figure in words: **forty-D–twenty-four–thirty-seven** , a case where bigger isn't better, nor is being _chunkier_ than me." "Ooh, if I live to be **thirty-six** , **** I just know that no less-swell number will take a cheaper shot at me than that!" "Yes, but, honey, if you live to be **101** , figuratively speaking, though the way you're going it doesn't appear like you're going to make it to **thirty-five** , one just may. You never know. Where there's life there's hope, some **5,500,000,000** figure-watchers say." "Well it's June **twenty-eight** , **1967**. If I live—wait! Now that doesn't seem right, does it, Gypsy Rose?" "No it doesn't, you ditzy, somewhat swell, and getting _sweller_ by the day, bleach blonde. You don't ever swell out **twenty-eight** like that in a date." "How can that be, Gypsy Rose? **Twenty-eight** is less than **three** words, I think. Yes, I'm sure it is. Ipso— _fatso_ yourself—it should be written out in words, not figures." "Honey, the rule's only a generality. It's an exception to th—" "I dated **three** or **four** generals when I was entertaining the troops in Vietnam in **1961** —" "Honeychild, let me do a little **four** -word 'Let Me Entertain You' number on you: _I_ am the entertainer around here." "Well you just wait till tomorrow, June **twenty-nine** , **1967**."
**  
**

**For numbers zero to one hundred use words; for numbers over one hundred use figures**

****

** **

****

**_Anna Nickel Smith_** _smiles wide in fond remembrance of J. Howard Marshall and the numbers: **eighty-nine, twenty-six, $1,600,000,000**._

"Anna! is it true that you, a **twenty-six** -year-young single mom with a **nine** -year-old son from your first marriage at **seventeen** in **1985** , only married J. Howard to get into the **ten** figures, **$1,600,000,000**?" "Figures don't lie, but **one** figure has to lie _once_ in a while, or there'd never be any rich old man/gorgeous young gold digger hitches—and **zero** new bare-bottom figures." "J. Howard, what about tonight—your blood pressure of **195** / **125**? Aren't you afraid of a fatal heart attack?" "Wel-l-l-l, she has got a drop-dead figure . . ." 
**  
**

187. She Figured, _Mine Will Do His Number In_

She loved her numbers, Anna Nickel Smith.

In dreaming, scheming all she could do with

Them, she met someone who had **eighty-nine**

Of them, in years; that suited her just fine.

J. Howard Marshall was an oil tycoon,

And, in him, Anna saw a numbers boon:

While Anna looked, to Howard, like a **million** ,

Anna looked to Howard for **one _billion-_**

**_Six_**. Since he was **eighty-nine** , she knew

Enough to use **two** words with him: "I do."

She thought, "At **eighty-nine** he's not long for

This world—I'll get **1.6 billion** more

( _Less_ **eighty-nine** , of course). But then if he

Were past **one hundred** my _'Rich!'_ strategy

Would be: Use _figures_ , since I know (the **one**

I have will soon enough see that he's done)

**From _zero_ to _one hundred_** **** (by design)

**Use words** (watch **two** up the old bottom line);

**For numbers past _one hundred_** (we gold diggers,

Numbers hip, all know, each **one** ) **use figures**."

"Anna!" "Mrs. Marshall!" the tabloid press clamored as the newlyweds left the Houston chapel united in wholly matter-of-money and separated by **sixty-three** years. "Is it true that you, a **twenty-six** -year-young single mom with a **nine** -year-old son from your first marriage at **seventeen** in **1985** , only married J. Howard to get into the **ten** figures, that is, **$1,600,000,000**?" "Figures don't lie," Anna Nickel replied voluptuously, "but **one** figure, well, **one** has to lie _once_ in a while, or else there'd never be any rich old man/gorgeous young gold digger hitches—and **zero** new (tee hee!) bare-bottom figures." "J. Howard!" "Daddy Warbucks!" the press clamored anew, swarming around the near-nonagenarian as the grand-paparazzi snapped away." "An **eighty-nine** -year-old wheelchair-bound man with a blood pressure of **195** over **125** , resting pulse of **148** , high-cholesterol level of **290** , basal body temperature of **101.1** , coupled with a **five** foot, **eleven** inch ( **180** centimeter), **sixty-two** kilo **(140** lb) **twenty-six** -year-old woman on a **3,000** -calories-a-day chocolate-covered-oysters diet—" "Yes, coupled with a young, exceptional figure on your wedding night—and _what_ an exception to the rule _Use words for numbers up to **one hundred** , and figures for numbers over **one hundred**_ **** that **38–26–38** figure is—well, don't numbers like that worry you?" "Aren't you afraid of a fatal heart attack?" "Or a stroke?" "Yeah, what about that, pops?" J. Howard stopped his wheelchair and gazed up at all the faces peering down at him concernedly. "Wel-l-l-l-l," he said in a quavering **eighty-nine** -year-young voice, "she _is_ a number, all right; and she _has_ got a drop-dead figure. But, now, I popped a strong ooh-la-la! depressant, turned my pacemaker down to 'Easy, Boy' (wheeze), and I plan to proceed just as slo-o-o-wly as I possibly can. But, we-l-l-l-l, if she dies, she dies."
**  
**

**Never start a sentence with a numeral**

****

** **

****

**_Two_** _views of Numbers racketeer_ ** _Charles "Lucky" Luciano_** _as he was given his latest Lucky number. " **1** was not looking his best," he claimed, at the time (life)._

"Lucky, at what hour were you born?" " **12:00** o'clock at night." " _Twelve_. Well, all very auspicious, wasn't it? How many hands do you have?" " **2** —but I don't know why you was auspicious of me, judge. I hadn't done nothin' at that early age." " _Two._ Can you use my last name in a sentence?" "Numirahl is da judge." " _Right._ And how many times have I told you, _Never start a sentence with a numeral_?" " **1** is da firs—" _One._ Yes, and because you didn't listen, here's _one_ more life sentence in solitary for you . . . Lucky . . ."
**  
**

188. He Started Sentence with a Numeral

" **1** thing I know good," Lucky Luciano

Sang, "although, Judge, I ain't no soprano

Singer, is my numbers, big and small.

Just ask me, Judge, you'll see—I know 'em all.

To run a numbers racket like I did

For all those years, and kept da money hid,

I had to know my numerals from numbers

To know **1** sore loser when **1** lumbers

My way, to say, when **1** came my way,

'I guess it's just my Lucky number day.' "

"Well, 'Lucky,' since this is your _Dies Irae_

(Judgment Day), I _will_ ask, by inquiry

(You invited it): that number one,

With which, canary-like, you've just begun

Your singing (for a lighter sentence), just

How were you spelling that?" "Your judgeship, trust

Me, like I've always done, I never vary:

**1** —" "I thought so. _Life—_ in solitary!

One must teach you: **Never start a sentence**

**With a numeral**." [one lifer sent hence]

" **10** years would've been a stiff sentence—but _life_! **1** was thinkin' you'd be more lenient with me, Judge." "I thought I leaned on you pretty hard with _life_ ," Judge I. M. Numirahl said. "And it's a good thing I don't know that you were spelling 'ten' and 'one' **'10'** and **'1**. **'** Otherwise, wiseguy, I'd be all over you like ugly on a Sicilian mobster. But tell me, Lucky (like everyone, I'm fascinated by Mafia mobsters), in what year were you born?" " **1897** was da year." " _Eighteen-ninety-seven._ " "And how old were you at the time?" " **0** , I think, but—" " _Zero._ Yes, of course. Now where, exactly, were you born?" " **16** miles east of Corleone, Sicily, in Lercara Fridd—" " _Sixteen_ miles—Sicilian—and all of them east of Corleone. And just what hour would that have been?" " **12:00** o'clock at nig—" " _Twelve_. Well, well, well. That was all very auspicious, wasn't it? The _one_ dark time of the day when both the big hand of the mobster and the little hand of the mobster are on **12:00**. So, how many hands do you now have?" [Luciano counts] " **2** —but I don't know why you was auspicious of me—I hadn't done nothin' at that early age." " _Two_ , of course. How old were you when you arrived at Ellis Island?" " **10** , I thin—" " _Ten._ And just how many low I. Q.'s do you currently own?" [Lucky counts] " **1** 's da number I—" " _One._ And just how low _is_ that? the court should like to know." [it's a lucky thing Lucky knows his numbers; he's just able to count that low] **"69—"** " _Sixty-nine._ And can you use my last name in a sentence?" "Numirahl is da judge." " _Right_ , Numirahl. And how many times have I told you _Never start a sentence with a numeral_?" " **1** is da firs—" _One._ Yes, and because you didn't listen, here's _one_ more life sentence in solitary for you . . . Lucky. And if you _ever_ start **1** like that again, with the one exception of a year, I'ma _really_ gonna lean ona you."

38. Spelling

_They spell it "vinci" and pronounce it "vinchy." Foreigners always spell better than they pronounce._

—Mark Twain

_My spelling is wobbly. It's good spelling but it wobbles, and the letters get in the wrong places._

—Winnie the Pooh

**Remember Me, If Only for a Spell**

"It's true: I have so _many_ speller rules

That plague you even in the sweller schools.

But, tell me, who is prettier on sight

When someone takes the care to spell me _right_?

Who doesn't say I'm pretty, well, contrary

When (at last!) in some thick dictionary

I am found ('Oh, _pretty_ orthogogic!')

Pretty much defying spelling logic,

Pretty much defying Hooked on Phonics.

(Do remember me to your mnemonics,

"Won't you?) Who's more pretty than a word,

And always better looking _spelled_ than heard?

But does Pronunciation give me due

Of 'better looking'? Never! He's loath to

Admit I am—but, oh! now look—you see?

You've gotten in a pretty pass with me

For not remembering my pretty face,

It's every pretty orthographic trace.

So rearranged—a pretty spelling pass— _oh!_

I look like a painting—by Picasso!"

Oh, she's a charmer, is Spelling, isn't she, darlings? She _has_ to be. She knows she has to cast a spell over little noodles in their formative years, or they'll _never_ spell her correctly. Why, just the other day she said to me, 'Oh my! I _dasn't_ let the little darlings once get into the hinterland of the Hindernet before I've had a chance to cast my spell over them—else all should be hopelessly lost!' 'Well now that's something I've been meaning to ask you,' I said, thinking to call into question her contrarian orthographic ways. 'Isn't **dasn't** an old-fashioned way of spelling **dare not** , from which you edit out the **o** , then contract with an apostrophe to take its space, editing out the space between **dare** and **not** , to make the smooshed-together **daren't** , which you then, to go on living up to your reputation of being contrary, spell **dasn't**?' 'Well, yes, it is,' she confessed, 'but then _some_ of us care enough about spelling to want to have archaic and edit too—don't we now?' 'What about **darlings** ,' I groaned, 'isn't that just the diminutive **little** **dears**? Why don't you spell it **dearlings**? Why do you make us drop the **e** __ there?' 'Oh, come now,' she said snippily, as if she were losing her patience, 'I drop the **e** for **economy** , don't I?' 'Well what about **Hindernet** ,' I said. 'Didn't you mean to spell it **Internet**?' And she said, 'If I'd _meant_ to spell it **Internet** I would have _spelled_ it **Internet** , wouldn't I?' and she gave me one of those looks. Now there was no call for her to tack on that gratuitous "wouldn't I?" She could simply have ended with __**Internet** and conveyed all the impatience and haughty superiority inherent in that universally beloved construction. So it struck me, none too subtly, that the only reason she appended that interrogatory fillip was purely to be catty. Well, never mind, I thought, and was prepared to let the matter drop, but she'd got herself all worked up and was determined to go on. 'I spell it **Hindernet** ,' she said, 'because the net result of the horrendous spelling you find on it, such as **u** (you), **kewl** (cool), **ether** (either), **pottery** (poetry), **cya** (see you), ** &** (and), **crobbirate** (corroborate), **and ect.** (etc.), __ so fatally hinders my pretty _correct_ spelling that . . . that . . .' and she broke out in the most piteous crying spell you ever heard—I mean _saw_.

But there you little dearlings—I mean darlings—go again, tricking me into going off on a pungent in a feudal attempt to keep me from teachin—eh? what's that Spelding? _Didn't I mean to say **tangent** and **futile**?_ Well now if I'd _meant_ to say **tangent** and **futile** __ I'd have _said_ **tangent** __ and __**futile** —wouldn't I? There there, dearest, you needn't have your own crying spell. Come, take this tissue, dry your letter-perfect tears. I said **pungent** because I meant to convey, in no uncertain terms, how much I thought Spelling's attitude **stank** —I mean **stunk** —no, I mean **stank**. **Stunk** is the past participle and I'm in no kind of party mood for the way she treated me in the past. And I said **feudal** because the **feudal** period was in the past, too, wasn't it? Yes, that terrible time when the **serfs** , rather than gladly toiling in the fields for the kindly **feudal** lord, and _learning_ good husbandry, which some young-at-hearts would most dearly _love_ to learn, were wasting their fledgling lives away **serfing** the **Hindernet** to such disastrous consequence—the total collapse of the beloved **feudal system**. I might have thought you'd have learned from the ill-fated Hindenburg, which, as you'll remember—eh? _What was the Himdemburg?_ Well, it was a huge gasbag, wasn't it? The precursor of the Hindernet. Still, you have to admit: it was a "flaming" disaster too. The ungodly number of lives lost made it the most catastrophic of its **error** , or was it **era**? Howsoever it all came down, no one disputes that it was the worst spell of disasters in German history. Or was it the worst disaster of spells? Oh, it was all so long ago that it makes my head hurt to keep them straight.

But now where is Spellvira when we need her? I specifically remember sending her to the National Spelling Be so she'd be here when we need her. What? Oh, there you are, dear. And thank goodness you've been here all along; you didn't get here a moment too soon. Spelling's gotten over her most recent crying spell and is back to her old pretty charming self. I can't wait to see the spell she's worked on everyone, especially _Charlie's Angels_ charmer Aaron Spelling, whose Novel Rule is the third of **thirdeen** , as Aussies say. **** Oh, but darlings, you dasn't think that _we_ could be in for such a terribly bad __ spell as that—do you?—come to

**The Novel Rules of Spelling**

**Charlotte and Emily Brontë**

It's _i_ before _e_ , but not after _c_

**Frank Lloyd Write**

It's _e_ before _i_ as in _reindeer_ that fly

**Aaron Spelling**

Words ending in _ie_ pronounced long _i_

**Sheila E.**

Words ending in silent _e_

**John Wayne**

The silent _e_ is retained in the _ing_ forms of _dye, singe, swinge,_ and _tinge_

**Francis Cardinal Spellman**

Words ending in _y_ preceded by a vowel

**Opie, Andy, Aunt Bee**

Words ending in _y_ preceded by a consonant

**David Letter-man, Paul Shaffer**

Three identical consonants or vowels are never written solidly together

**Ferdinand the Bull**

One-syllable words and words of more than one syllable accented on the last syllable, when ending in a single consonant (except _x_ ) preceded by a single vowel, double the consonant before adding an ending that begins with a vowel

**Poseidon**

Words ending in _ce_ or _ge_

**Hester Prynne**

When the prefix of a word ends in the same letter with which the main part of the word begins, or when the main part of the word ends in the same letter with which the suffix begins, write both letters

**Dick Cave-it**

Do not carelessly misspell words

**King Arthur, Merlin**

For every rule there's an exception

**It's _i_ before _e_ , but not after _c_**

**__**

** **

**__**

_T he literary spirits of _**_Charlotte and Emily Brontë_** _haunt Haworth Parsonage, the family home where both died young of consumption: consuming too many exceptions to the rule._

__

"Oh, Em, what kind of science is it when Dame, I want to say _Damn_ Science, breaks 'er own 'ard and fast **c-e-i** rule? She 'er **ancient** __ self informs me about a **financier** in 'igh **society** 'o's colder than a **glacier** —just so she can play fast and loose with the lawr. And Em, the worst is she 'asn't even got a guilty **conscience**! Too, she 'as me believin' it's **_i_** _before **e** after all other consonants_—and oh! the **weight** she heaps on my **being** in Queen Vickie's **reign**. Oh, Em, as sure as I'm Jane Err these is all **counterfeit** __ rules! . . .
**_  
_**

189. It's _i_ before _e_ —but Not _after c_

Young Charlotte Brontë, author of _Jane Eyre_ ,

Took sister Emily up on her dare:

"Char, write, dear, _blindly_ , like you've gone love-mad,

To some unseen—'ope 'andsome!—Cockney lad;

Char, carry on a pen-pal correspondence

—'O knows but it might not spark a fondence

For 'e 'om you choose from some list, blind;

And 'o knows, fall in _true_ love, Char, in kind;

Be writin' billets-doux; if all goes well,

Fall totally beneath 'is writin' spell!"

"Oh, Em, it's fell out just as you foreseen,"

Young Charlotte wept. "Love letters is between

Us, 'e and me—for two weeks now—'e's just

The lad for me, and so I thought I must,

Em, meet 'im, face to face, look in 'is eye.

And so 'e met me. Em, I 'ad to cry!

'E looked me in the I right then and there,

And, oh, I wept—I sore I was Jane _Err_!

'E broke 'is own spell, Em. I learned, ah me!

**It's _I_ be for _'e_ —but not after _see_**!"

Err but for the grace of God went Jane. Yet, in spite of mixing up her subject ( _'e_ ) with the love object ( _'im_ ) of her affections, and making a scramble of her verbs, Charlotte had the rule **_i_** _before **e** —but not after_ **_c_** down to a fine **science**. "Oh, but, Em, what kind of science is it," she wept, "when even she, Dame, I want to say _Damn_ , Science, breaks 'er own 'ard and fast **c-e-i** rule? She 'er **ancient** __ self informs me about a **financier** in 'igh **society** 'o's colder than a **glacier** —just so she can play fast and loose with the lawr. And oh, Em, the worst is she 'asn't even got a guilty **conscience**! Too, she 'as me believin' it's **_i_** _before **e** after all other consonants_—and oh! the **weight** she heaps on my **being** when, in Queen Vickie's **reign** , she tells me that Santa is 'oldin' the **reins** to **eight** __**reindeer** pullin' 'is **sleigh** filled with the **freight** o' **their** presents, the children's (small for lack of **protein** and **height** ), to be opened at **leisure** —before Mum's 'ad 'er first bi' o' **caffeine**. Oh, Em, as sure as I'm Jane Err these is all **counterfeit** __ rules! And then, too, as if already she were not the most incredible Dame, she tells me 'er third spellin' rule is _When two vowels go walkin', the first does the talkin'_ , like **team** , ** __ coat**, __ and **wait**. Then turns round and tells me that two **friends** 'as 'ad a **brief** , **fierce** fight in a **field** **chiefly** over a **belief** , and that **neither** (NI-thur) would **yield** , causin' the one to **heinously** give the other a **grievous** wound for which there was no **relief**. And then, Em, she says, for all I'm dreamin' the most romantical dreams about my unseen pen pal and predictin' a rosy future of peaches 'n' cream, that I'm engagin' in **oneiromancies** —the _only_ word in the English language, what's breakin' ALL THREE of 'er rules at once! Just like it was breakin' my 'eart, Em, to learn, when 'im and I was finally meetin' eye to eye, that it's **_Eeee!_** _before eye after see._ "

**It's _e_ before _i_ as in reindeer that fly**

****

** **

****

_Construction of_ ** _Frank Lloyd Write_** _'s_ Fallingwater _was plagued by such a long spell of conflicts, design changes, construction failures, and massive cost overruns that it prematurely aged the word-renowned architect._

" **Mnemonic** , yes, that was my most innovative design, for which I won the coveted Silent-M Award. I'd boldly separated its **e** from its **i** with _three_ intervening letters, whereas my architectural forte, for which I am justly word renowned, is for designing words with **e** followed immediately by **i** and sounded long **a**. The first word I designed was a next-door **neighbor** who, in a biographical **vein** , began to **weigh** on me with the **freight** of her life story: how she'd gone to Japan to be a **geisha** in a sheer **peignoir**. . ."
**  
**

190. Write Wrote _e-i_ , all right, to Sound Long _a_

Famed architect Frank Lloyd Write had designs

On _homes_? with free("organic")-flowing lines?

_Museums_? No, Write differed from the herds

Of architects: Write had designs on words

—And such designs! So mindless of the laws

Of architecture they won _Ooh!_ s and awes?

Well, hardly; his designs with **e** 's and **i** 's,

Contrary to all laws, won tears and sighs

From writers who could only look on, spellbound,

Realizing Write had them _Spell Hell_ bound.

For tears that fell like r _ei_ n from these word jotters,

Write saw he'd designed them "Falling Waters."

Consequently, as a spelling tonic,

Frank Lloyd Write designed them this mnemonic:

**Write _i_ right before you write your _e_ ,**

**But write _e_ right before _i_ after _c_ ;**

**Write _e_ before _i_ , right, to sound long _a_ ,**

**As _reindeer eight deigned_ right for St. Nick's _sleigh_ ,**

**With five _ei_ xceptions: _either_ , _neither_ , _seize_ ,**

**_Weird_! _Leisure_ suits—but spell his fur-trim _frieze_**.

" **Mnemonic** , yes, thank you for noticing. That was arguably my most innovative design, for which I won the highly coveted Silent-M Award. I'd boldly separated its **e** from its **i** with _three_ intervening letters, whereas my architectural forte, for which I am justly word renowned, is for designing words with **e** followed immediately by **i** and sounded long **a**. The first word I designed for myself after my experimental Silent-M period was a next-door **neighbor** who, in a biographical **vein** , soon began to **weigh** on me with the **freight** of her life story: how she'd gone to Japan to be a **geisha** , bowing, in her sheer **peignoir** , **** in demure **obeisance** to those she entertained; then slyly **inveigled** her way onto a **seiner** bound for old **Peiping** (but, being a slow boat to China, it was new **Beijing** when she got there). Right off the boat she came under the **surveillance** of a **reigning** Arab **sheik** who, **feigning** interest in her mind, invited her to old **Taipei** for **chow mein** , but, having other designs, spirited her off to his harem wherein he made her wear a **veil** and a **lei** , kept her under tight **rein** for **eight** long- **a** years, **deigning** to treat her **heinously** , blah, blah, _blah!_ Her **ei** go was so off-putting, **ei** , that I didn't notice I'd designed my word-famous _home_ **Tal iesin**—which she so _Aiiyee!_ ly pronounced **tally-ESS-in** —and so built there was no changing it. She so rattled me that I entered my Break the Long- **ei** Pronunciation Period, and **** began designing **ei** words pronounced long **e: caffeine** , **protein** , **seizure** , **codeine** , **pharmacopoeia** ; short **e** : **heir** , **foreign** , **sovereign** , **their** , **reveille** ; **** long **i** : **feisty** , **heist** , **eiderdown** , **height** , **seismic** , **zeitgeist** , **Guggenheim** ; and short **i** : **counterfeit** , **surfeit** , **forfeit**. Needless to say, thereafter I was careful to a _fault_ in designing vain, **ei** gotistical **niegh _bores_** for all of my many word-famous Frank Lloyd Wreit–designed flophouses."

**Words ending in _ie_ pronounced long _i_**

**__**

** **

**__**

**_Aaron Spelling_** _had a pronounced longing eye for Charlie's Angels, clearly audible in his loud **"Aiy-EE!"** whenever Mrs. Spelling showed up on the Angels' set unannounced._

Mrs. Spelling, however, had an eye for one angel only, and her pronounced longing eye longed to see him: "It's been that way ever since we saw to **tie** the knot, a loving knot we're **tying** still. Yes, that's a fine enough rule for spelling: that an **i** change to **y** before another **i** in order to prevent two **i** 's coming together, as in _liing_. But we Spellings obey a contrary rule: our eyes simply _must_ meet—and the sooner the better—yet not **lie** together, for neither of us having **lying** eyes. We simply lionize one another. _There_ he is now! _. . ._ "
**  
**

191. Beneath Their Spell, He Had One Longing Eye

Old Aaron Spelling had a longing eye

For Charlie's Angels, heaved a longing sigh

Each time he set his eyes on one: "Ah-h-h, _Kate!_

For ages, __ now, it's she I've longed to date;

And when I set my longing eyes on _Jaclyn_

—Spell! she sets the fire in my eyes craclyn;

But when they _light_ on! the toothy _Farrah_ ,

Ditsy one with all the tinted hair— _ah!_

Vision of an _Angel_ then I see,

And I can only blurt out, _'Ai-aiy-EE!'_

__

"But when, _aiyee_ , __ my small-a angel's eyes,

My wife's, touch on the Angels' set ('Sur _pri-i-ise!_ ')

_—Ai!_ catching me, once more, in mid- _'Ai-aiy—'_

I quickly turn it into _'Ai-aiy—I-I-I-I_

See but _you_ , __ sweetheart [lionizing purr]!'

I see (and so turn lyin' eyes on her):

**Some words that end – _aiy-EE!_ (pronounced long _eye_ )**

**In which, likewise, the _e_ is also sigh**

**Leant, change _–aiy-EE!_ to _—I-I-I-I . . ._ before an eyein'**

**—Gee** (two eyes must not touch on the lyin')."

Yes, they were perfectly matched, the Spellings: Mr. Spelling had an eye for Angels, a very pronounced _longing_ eye; Mrs. Spelling had an eye for one angel only: darling, eyes-for-her-only Mr. Spelling. And her pronounced longing eye longed to see him: "It's been that way ever since we saw to **tie** the knot, a loving knot we're **tying** still. Yes, and that's a fine enough rule for spelling: that an **i** change to **y** before another **i** in order to prevent two such **i** 's coming together, as in _liing_. But we Spellings obey a very contrary rule: our eyes simply _must_ meet—and the sooner the better. __ He's such an angel, my Aaron, and I'll just **die** if I don't see him soon. I'm **dying** right now. There's but one thing to do: I must take the red- **hie** special to the Angels' set that, for all of my **hying** , our eyes might come together—yet not **lie** together, for neither of us having **lying** eyes. We simply lionize one another. When I get there, I won't have to **vie** for his eye's attention, nor will his eye be **vying** for mine. Our eyes will come together in the most idolatrous manner and, oh! my sweetie **pie** and I will soon be sweetie **py** _—_ no, wait! Surely I must say sweetie **pieing** —an exceptional denial of the **i** -to- **y** spelling rule. But there's no denying the Spelling rule. Nothing keeps _our_ eyes from coming together. He may be 'Charlie' to the Angels, but my angel's no _goodtime_ Charlie. He would _never_ eye another. Oh, look, there he is now, making his usual up close and personal 'aye' contact with the Angels (sweetie pie, he just can't say 'nay' to them). Oh, won't he be surprised to see me suddenly walk onto the set of Charlie's Angels, and my eye catches the angel of my—" **_"Ai!"_** "Oh dear! isn't that the most eye-ronic thing," cried Mrs. Bawling. "Only a moment ago I made an error in spelling—and now I see (the eyes have it: tears, idol tears) I've come to err in _Spelling_!"

**Words ending in silent e**

**__**

** **

**__**

**_Sheila E._** _plays volubl-E upon her snar-E drum in 4/4 time chronolog-E._

"I _never_ drop my silent **e**. The closest I ever came got to dropping a silent **e** was that time occasion when I thought of silently dropping a 'Sheila E.' hank-E to get the eye orb of a male dude hunk. Let silent **e** -ers believe go on believing in dropping their silent **e** before ahead of a suffix beginning with a vowel ( **ice/icy** ; **live/livable** ), and keep it before in front of a suffix beginning with a consonant ( **safe/safely** ; **life/lifetime** ). I'd _type, write_ an email to the silent- **e** ditor and _whine, gripe, bellyache_ , __ but I'm not the silent- **e** type variety. . . ." 
**  
**

192. She Never _Ever_ Played a Silent _e_

"La Sheila E., I play so _beautifull-E_ ,

So rhythmicall-E, the drums, it's my decree

And solitary tenet, I, La She,

To never _ever_ play a silent **e**.

No matter if on bongos, wild and free,

Or congas, playing with belle-E esprit,

On tom-toms, Snar-E drum, or Tympan-E

With syncopated bassic rhapsod-E;

With all my Paist-E virtuosit-E

I am, La Sheila, La Sex Cymbal-E.

"So _end_ a word with silent **e**?—not me!

La E.—I learned (a prodigy at three):

**Words ending in a silent _e_ drop the**

**End _e_ before a suffix seen to be**

**Beginning with a vowel, but keep _e_**

**Before a suffix consonant __ (like _t_ )**

**—Except when final silent _e_ 's** (debris)

**Preceded by a vowel that's not _e_ ,**

**The final _e_ 's not kept** (yes, tru[ **e** ]ly—see?)

**Before a suffix consonant (like -ly)**.

"No, whether I am La E., La She, or La Sheila E., I, never drop my silent **e**. How can I? I never use employ them. The closest I ever came got to dropping a silent **e** was that time occasion when I thought of silently dropping a 'Sheila E.' hank-E to get the eye orb of a male dude hunk. Let silent **e** -ers believe go on believing in dropping their silent **e** before ahead of a suffix beginning with a vowel ( **ice/icy** ; **live/livable** ), and keep it before in front of a suffix beginning with a consonant ( **safe/safely** ; **life/lifetime** ). I play volubl-E upon my Snar-E—yet they drop my high-sounding E and say, 'She's _snaring_ at high volume.' (Grrr!) So I pound it out pulsatingl-E, syncopatingl-E, percussionaril-E in order to get the patented E sound I'm famous for—and they knife stab me in the back by giving me their silent **-e** treatment, saying ( _they_ say) that I _syncopate, pulsate_ , and I'm greatly unparallel at being _percussive_ —for which I percuss them out in 4/4 time chronology. They do that just so they can turn around and drop their silent **e** before pre–a consonant when the **e** is preceded by a vowel that isn't **e** ( **due/duly** ). Well they can argue bang out an argument as to its 'merits,' and go on beating their silent **-e** drum till they convince satisfy me that it's true truly _un_ sound—but I march to the sound of a different drum, a drum I play with such esprit it is pure sweet poetr-E. So I double duplicate repeat my aspirated **e** by going on a drum-playing spree _,_ playing wild and free. And what do they do? They make fashion me into an exasperated E by tacking on a _tacky_ , non- **e** -ending suffix: 'La Sheila E. plays with wanton _freedom_ , on a drum-banging _spreedom_ ,' that last dom word being drum bogus! I'd _type, write, compose_ an e-mail to the silent- **e** ditor and _whine, gripe, bellyache_ —I would—but I'm just not the silent- **e** type variety. I'm me, La E., La She, La Nonsilent-E: Sheila E."

**The silent e is retained in the 'ing' forms of _dye_ , _singe_ , _swinge_ , and _tinge_**

**__**

** **

**__**

**_John Wayne_** _and alter drop- **e** go John Wayn face off, and may the best keep- **e** /drop- **e** win. _

Wayne was manlily adjusting the six shooter on his hip when Wayn, his alter drop **e** -go, swaggered up. "Pilgrim, I see you're the strong, silent- **e** type." "That's right, pilgrim, and I see by your **e** -less handle you're anything but." "You saw right. So I guess you and I are just going to have to shoot it out in a drop- **e** ing/keep- **e** ing contest to see who's top gun." "I guess we _are_ , pilgrim." "I'm mighty relieved to hear that, pilgrim. May the best keep _-_ **e** , **** drop **-e** win. Ten paces okay?" "Shoots me fine, only try not to shoot me in the foot . . ." 
**_  
_**

193. John Wayne, the Manly Keep- _e_ -Silent Type

Born Marion Mike Morrison, John Wayne

Soon changed all that. "What gave me image pain

Was 'Marion'—a _woman's_ name! My gripe

Was 'It's just not the strong [sigh leant] **e** -type

I wanted to project up on the screen;

Just wasn't how I wanted to be seen.

I cried out, 'What a _cruel_ thing to do.

I s'pose you're going to name your next boy _Sue_.'

I left off speaking, left them silently,

My parents, left home, and went silent **e**.

"I've been, since Marion made my life hell,

John Wayne now for a silent **-e** long spell;

But now I find my popularity

Is Wayneing **—dyeing** _—_ no, it's __**dying** , __ see,

**The silent _e_ 's retained in the 'ing' forms**

**Of _dye_ , _singe_ , _swinge_ , and _tinge_** to get no norms

Of spelling: **_dyeing_** , **_singeing_** , **_swingeing_** , **_tingeing_**

(Some have called this 'silent **e** -keep _bingeing_ ')

**To distinguish these words**—not gun _slinging_

Words— **from _dying_ , _singing_ , _swinging_ , _tinging_**."

Wayne was manlily adjusting the six shooter on his hip when Wayn, his alter drop **e** -go, swaggered up. "Pilgrim, I see you're the strong, silent- **e** type." "That's right, pilgrim, and I see by your **e** -less handle you're anything but." "You saw right. So I guess you and I are just going to have to shoot it out in a joint drop- **e** ing/keep- **e** ing contest to see who's top gun." "I guess we _are_ , pilgrim." "Well I'm mighty relieved to hear that, pilgrim—and may the best keep _-_ **e** or drop **-e** win. Ten paces okay for you?" "Shoots me fine, only try not to shoot me in the foot and shoot my strong silent **-e** image down." "As you did in _The Shootist_ when your six shooter went **Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!**?" "Look, it went **Blam! Blam! Blam! Blam!** Then I was shot in the back, badly **singeing** my flesh, and killed. Then Gillam picked it up and went **Blam! Blam! Blam!** " "Making _seven_ **Blam!** s in all—from a _six_ shooter." "Are you **blameing** _me_ for the goof of that extra **Blam!ing?** " "It was your six shooter." "How can you **blame** me? I was _dead_ , __ for pity's sake, having been fatally **Blam!able.** " "I know. I watched as you lay **dying,** the fake blood **dyeing** your shirt red. Anyway, It was your six shooter. You're **blameable**." " _You_ should talk. In _McClintock_ , you, not being the strong, silent **-e** type, went around **swinging** your drop **-e** fists, instead of **swingeing** everyone y—" "What in thunderation is **swingeing**?" "Thrashing. You know, you've see—" "You just love **springing** that on me to be **springeing** me—" "What in blazes is **springeing**?" " **Snaring**. Note how I dropped the **e** since there's no word **'snar'ing** to confuse it with." "Well you just ended a sentence with a blamed _preposition._ But look, fast-Wayning pilgrim, let's just say there's enough **blameing** to go around." "Yes, and we can't ever forget **Blam!ing** , can we . . . _Marion_?"

**Words ending in _y_ preceded by a vowel**

****

** **

****

**_Francis Cardinal Spellman_** _cries words preceded by avowal and ending in **"Why?"**_

"Spelle Helle! Who the devil am I going to **pray** to—I'm **praying** —now? At least here, as in living hell, I see it's a cardinal rule that _Words ending in **y** preceded by a vowel do not change **y** to **i** before suffixes or other endings_. If they did that would _really_ be—hello! That lost soul there looks **gay**. Hell! the damned place is _filled_ with __**gays**! What's more, there's a pronounced **gaiety** in the air. Hello! A **y** preceded by a vowel just changed **y** to **i** before a suffix! God vowed to **slay** these sinners' souls, and here they are— **slain**! . . ." 
**  
**

194. Avowal, Then His Damned Words Ended _Why?_

The go-spell preached by Cardinal Rule Spellman,

Under God's spell, was, "Don't go to _Hell_ , __ man!

Satan, Old Beelzebub the Fell,

Will keep you—for one _damned_ eternal spell!

Spell Hell (dear God!), _antipodes_ , as low

As Hell can get—by God, it scares me so

To think, _eternity_ , a damned long time.

By God, what I need is a spell-swell rhyme

To suffer not Nick's spell-demonic clutch

(Some fix I'd be in!), a mnemonic crutch."

He made one up. "God, it does so suffice

To be a Hell-free memory device

I've vowed to be good (for a spell). God, why

Should _I_ so suffer fix of Spell Hell, I,

The Spellman? _Why?_ " His word spell over, God

Proved Spellman's Hell-free spell de _vice_ Hell-flawed:

_Hark _

**_Avowal do not change their 'why' to 'I'_**

**_Before_** _—hark!— **'suff'-fixes and other endings,**_

**_Save exceptions to the rule's bendings_** _._

Passing through the fiery gates, Cardinal Spellman forlornly cast his eyes heavenward, only to become all the more downcast to read _Spelle Helle:_ _Abandone Hoep Alle Yee Hoo Entur Heare Fore Ah! Dammed Eturnal Spelle._ "Th-Th-Thank God it is Judgment **Day** , not **Days** ," he stammered, "I couldn't take more than one such hellish day. And thank God it's only _one_ **archway** I'm passing through, and not, shudder, **archways** —which could easily lead one to believe this to be a Crock of—hello! Why in God's name am I thanking God? I merely asked _Why?_ albeit with avowal before it, and he gives me the whole damned Hellphabet—and casts me into this Spelle Hellehole! And who the devil am I going to **pray** to (I'm **praying** now) I should like to know? Well at least here, as in living hell, I see it's a cardinal rule that _Words ending in **y** preceded by a vowel do not change **y** to **i** before suffixes or other endings_. I mean if they did, that would _really_ be—hello! That lost soul over there looks for all the netherworld to be **gay**. Hell! the damned place is _filled_ with __**gays**! What's more, there's a pronounced **gaiety** in the air. Hello! A **y** preceded by a vowel just changed **y** to **i** before a suffix! Worse, God vowed to **slay** the souls of these sinners, and here they are— **slain**! Hello! How many _Wherefore I **say** unto you_'s have I read in the Bible where God has **said** that the souls of such sinners will burn in eternal damnation, not for a **day** but **daily**? That they'll **pay** dearly for their sins, and though they continue to do so—for eternity—they will never, _never_ be **paid**! Yet here am _I_ who never did so **lay** __ me down (choosing, instead, to lie to the **laity** ) **laid** to rest among them—with naught to **allay** my misery—fearing it shall _never_ be **allayed**. Hello! That time the **y** didn't change to **i**. O God, make that Spellzebub, I really _am_ in Spelle Helle!"

**Words ending in _y_ preceded by a consonant**

****

** **

****

**_Opie_** _suffers Aunt Bee's inundating busses, occasioning his words ending "Why?"_

"As fast as I wipe away each cheeky **humidity** , Aunt Bee plants another. It's all I can do to keep my head above the **humiditizin'** flood. _Why_ do I have to suffer such humiliatin' **humidities**?" "Don't you recall, Ope, how Ms. Spellster taught us _Words that end in y preceded by a consonant usu'lly change **y** to **i** before any suffix—except one beginnin' with **i**_?" "I'm going to ask Dad if we can move. One juicy buss upon my cheek will never **satisfy** Aunt Bee. There's just no **satisfyin'** her. Bussybodies are never **satisfied**. . . .
**  
**

195. Her Busses Made Him Want to Catch Another

Young Opie, Sheriff Andy Taylor's son

Upon the _Andy Griffith Show_ , had one

Of those adoring aunts who well kiss nieces,

But _smack!_ nephews to embarrassed pieces.

Living with Aunt Bee he had to suffer

Her wet blandishments; could not rebuff her.

"Ope" wished he and Dad (Bee's own dear brother)

Could move, live with some less-smooching other;

_Prayed_ that they might move and fix the fix

That he was in for all her ( _mush!_ ) wet licks.

"Come, let me con you with each bussing oozement,

Opie, _use_ _you_ for my lips' amusement!"

Each smack seemed to say. Bee: "Andy, I

So _love_ that son of yours—now tell me why?

**—Ai!** Opie _suffers_ me and wants to fix

It," Bee cried, hurt, "by _moving_? My wet licks

Prove **Words that end in 'why?' preceded by**

**A con-son Aunt** Bee] **_['use-you' ly change 'why?'_**

**To _'Ai!'_ before a _suff_ -fix, all save one**

**That starts with 'I'** —I could just _smack_ your son!"

Oh **agony** of **agonies**! No sooner did Opie think Aunt Bee couldn't possibly get any more **kissy** and **smoochy** , than darned if she didn't get all the **kissier** and **smoochier**. It was plum enough to **mortify** a boy (who thought himself most a young man) to the point of **mortification**. Oh **misery** of **miseries**! It seemed as if his inundated cheeks, for all they were constantly awash in Aunt Bee's __ kisses, were never **dry** but always in a perpetual state of **drying**. Despite the constant "son"shine, he couldn't remember their ever being **dried**. Still a boy, and **shy** , he was naturally **shying** away from such mushy displays of **sentimentality**. " **Sentimentalities** are for kids." Too, a boy never gets any **sympathy** for his **osculatory** predicament (all very **osculatorially** embarrassing) at home so he has to get it from the only known source: a boy just like him who can **sympathize** with the fix he's in: "As fast as I wipe away each cheeky **humidity** , she plants another—and it's all I can do to keep my head above the **humiditizin'** flood. __ Oh, _why_ do I have to suffer such humiliatin' **humidities**? Tell me, _why_?" And the latest boy to have his ear inundated with all the _why_?ning says, "Don't you recall, Ope, how the schoolmarm Ms. Spellster said in teachin' us spellin': _Words that end in y preceded by a consonant usu'lly change **y** to **i** before any suffix—except one beginnin' with **i**_?" "Opie saw it all clearly then: One juicy buss upon his cheek would never ever **satisfy** Aunt Bee. There was just no **satisfying** her. Such bussybodies are never **satisfied**. **** Oh **anxiety** of **anxieties**! He sought a **remedy** but found no **remedying** panacea. The situation was not **remediable**. So he made up a rule: _Don't NEVER be part of a **family** where a kissy-face **familial** relation is in a too **familiar** WE **T** way with your cheeks_. The _i_ is bound to change to "Why, God— _why_?" before long.

**Three identical consonants or vowels are never written solidly together**

****

** **

****

_Paul Shaffer reflexively laughs at_ ** _David Letter-man_** _'s last late-night joke with three laughters in a row._

"Paul, CBS tells me I've got OHD—three fateful letters in a row. Old Host Disease. They tell me I've got one _Late Night_ to live. Some words, like **agreeer** , **beeeater** , **belllike** , **illlooking** , also have three letters in a row, which are no less fatal; and the only cure is to put a hyphen in between, **bee-eater** , **bell-like** , **ill-looking** , **** or drop one letter, **agreer.** Paul, how many letters in a nasty row are there between ME an' CBS in the tabloids?" "Two, if you don't count the apostrophe, Dave." "Right— _C-U_!" One Letter dropped.
**  
**

196. Three Letters in a Row, One Letter Dropped

Poor David Letter-man broke down in tears:

"I'm told I've _letters_ —coming out my years,

Paul: WAGO Radio,

And WTHR TV—woe!

Too, oozing out my years, year docs all see,

Paul, NBC— _and_ CBS TV!

They say I haven't many more _Late Night_ s,

That I should make my will out—now—by rights;

They say there is no cure for OHD,

_Old_ Host Disease, Paul—what a fate those three

__

Dread letters are—they say I'm going to _die_

—I interrupt this monologue to cry!

I can't be saved by ABC or FOX show

('OHD? Nope, can't give _you_ a talk show!')

I'd write ' _AI! AI!_ _AI!_ ' to cry my woe,

But that rite would be three _'AI!'_ s in a row,

And, Paul, **_Three_ letters, all the same, are never**

**_Ever written solidly together._**

**No, a hyphen parts one from the two**

**—Or else one _Letter_ -'s dropped**—as networks _do_!"

A star, if fallen, David Letter-man got letters, millions of them, and they were always the same lately: "You have terminal OHD!" It was for CBS, however, another three fateful letters, to give the stricken host the dire prognosis: "You've got just one _Late Night_ to live." What else could Letter-man do but make light of it? "God, Old Host Disease. _How_ old am I, Paul [Shaffer]? I'm so old I can vaguely remember having Hester Prynne on the show _before_ she had that shameful scarlet letter 'A' emblazoned on her breast. Now that was Prynne-time TV, Paul." "Ah, ha-ha-ha." "And speaking of letters, do you know how many same letters in a Debbie Rowe there are, Paul?" "Ah, ha-ha-ha. How many, Dave?" "Paul, I'm so old I can remember when she met Michael Jackson and it was 'Oh oh _ohh!_ ' long before she lawyered up and it became 'Owe, owe, owe!' and then, having given up visiting rights, is now 'Woe, woe woe!' So tell me, Paul, how many same letters in a row are there in **agreeer** , **beeeater** , **belllike** , **classskipper** , **eggglass** , **cliffface** , **crosssection** , **dumbbelllifting** , **chafffinch** , **expressship** , **illlooking** , **missspeak** , **offflavor** , **overseeer** , **pufffish** , **frillless** , **shelllike** , **and stilllife**?" "Uh, three, Dave?" "Right, Paul—and that's dead _wrong_! There should either be a hyphen separating them: **bee-eater** , **bell-like** , **class-skipper** , **egg-glass** , **cliff-face** , **cross-section** , **dumbbell-lifting** , **express-ship** , **off-flavor** , **ill-looking** , **puff-fish** , **frill-less** , **shell-like** , **still-life** ; or one of the three letters should be dropped: __**agreer** , **chaffinch** , **misspeak** , **overseer**. Finally, Paul, as to my having Old Host Disease—and just one _Late Night_ to live—how many letters in a very nasty row are there between ME an' CBS in the tabloids?" "Two, if you don't count the apostrophe, Dave." "Right again, Paul— _C-U!_ " And David Letter-man was drop-hosted right on outta there.

**One-syllable words and words of more than one syllable accented on the last syllable, when ending in a single consonant (except x) preceded by a single vowel, double the consonant before adding an ending that begins with a vowel**

****

** **

****

_Though clearly three syllables,_ ** _Ferdinand_** _is one silly bull, preferring sniffing to tiffing._

Ferdinand, absorbed in sniffing flowers, the lone comprehensi-bull explained: " **Man** is one _silly_ bull. **Man** ends with a consonant ( **n** ) preceded by a single vowel ( **a** ). So **man** doubles his final consonant **n** before a suffix beginning with a vowel, like **-ish,** to be **man nish**. So it is with words of more than one syllable accented on the last: **com mit/ committing**. **** If the accent shifts to a preceding syllable, then the final consonant is _not_ doubled: **re fer/referred/reference. **Likewise, if the final consonant is **x: tax/ taxing** . . ."
**  
**

197. He's Fully Consonant with Smelling Flowers

Bull Ferdinand ( _"Ah-h!"_ ) vowed to be, sun, showers,

Fully consonant with smelling flowers.

Nose-in-air bulls sniffed, "How flower _silly_ ,

Spending life so flower-smelling illy,

And not honing your bullfighting skills,

Like us, to one day win bullfighting kills."

But dreamy Ferdinand just sniffed and sighed,

"— _Ah-h!_ " drawing one more fragrance deep inside.

"If I smell one ac- _scented_ -by-the-sun

Sweet flower, fight bulls— _ah-h!_ —I've _more_ than won.

"So I've— _ah-h!_ —vowed to sit, smell life's each rose

— _Ah-h!—_ to the last, fight-bulls, for this bull knows:

**One-silly-bull words, words of 'more than won'**

_—Ah-h!_ — **silly bull, ac- _scented_ on**—come, sun!—

**The last** _—ah-h!_ — **silly bull, when ending in**

**A single consonant** — _ah-h!_ sniff-and-win—

**Preceded by a single vowal, double**

_—Ah-h!_ — **the consonant pre–adding** [trouble

For the fight-bulls—smelling _death._ "Oh, _foul!_ "]

**An ending that begins** _—ah-h!_ — **with _Ah-h!_ vowal** _._ "

"What a pile of incomprehensi-bull!" the head nose-in-air bull contemptuously snorted. "Ferdinand is clearly an inscruta-bul—" "Unless, excuse my butting in," an excusa-bull countered, "Ferdinand's from a far-distant province of Spain, and is an unintelligi-bull." "Plausi-bull," a purebred affa-bull offered good naturedly. "WELL, ONE THING WE DO KNOW," a VOLU-BULL bellowed at high decibulls, "IS THAT FERDINAND IS ANYTHING BUT AN UNDERSTANDA-BULL." "Perhaps, my fellow disagreea-bulls, I can clear up this heated controversy regarding the infathoma-bull in question," the lone comprehenda-bull amongst them offered. "I believe what Ferdinand was _ah-h!_ serting, in so many words, and I heard him clearly, for he's nothing if not an audi-bull, is this: _One-syllable words and words of more than one syllable accented on the last syllable, when ending in a single consonant (except **x** ) preceded by a single vowel, double the consonant before adding an ending that begins with a vowel._ Ah, but I see you are still insensi-bulls. Perhaps a few legi-bull and pronouncea-bull examples will make you apprehenda-bulls: **Man** is one _silly_ bull, upon which the accent can never fall too strongly. Moreover, **man** ends with a consonant ( **n** ) preceded by a single vowel ( **a** ). Consequently, **man** doubles his final consonant **n** before a suffix beginning with a vowel, like **-ish,** to be more **man nish**. It is just so with words of more than one syllable accented on the last: **com mit/ committing, defer/deferring, regret/regrettable.** But if the accent shifts to a preceding syllable on appending the suffix, then the final consonant is _not_ doubled: **re fer/referred/reference. **Likewise, if the final consonant is **x: tax/ taxing, fix/fixable.** Have I got that silly bull business right, Ferdinand?" _"Ah-h-h-h!"_ the irrepressi-bull incura-bull sniffed.

**Words ending in _ce_ or _ge_**

**__**

** **

**__**

_Ironically,_ ** _Poseidon_** _finds wrestling Neptune (the "softer" gender) under the **ce** hard._

"Goddesses are called 'the softer gender' because whenever they tack **able** onto a word ending in **ce** or **ge** , they retain the **e** in order to give the **c** or **g** a soft sound, as so comports with their **mar-i- _ja_ -ble **lot. But we gods are a hard bunch, and we drop the **e** in order to get the hard sound that so comports with our **marr-i- _ga_ -ble** lot. But these softies we go **gaga** over won't hear it: ' **Merry Gobble!** is what they who are not gods and goddesses but godless _people_ say to one another prior to tearing into their Christmas turkey. . . .' "
**  
**

198. God, Why Do We Gods— _Gee!_ —End Up the Soft 'e's?

"They say I'm wrathful— _me_ —the Greek god of

The sea, Poseidon, yet, come down to love,

I'm no _mean_ god—I truly love the way

That Plato loves: platonic love holds sway

With me beneath the sea, so it's a revel

Of platonic love below sea level.

Yes, below, I know—it's love-ironic:

I'm so pepped _up_ by this love-play tonic,

That I lure, beat at their own game, Sirens

Into my playtonic-love environs.

"Now they cry, 'Poseidon's whole love life

Is one playtonic— _damn_ him, God!—love-rife

Sea _orgy_!' When I hear those words I thus

Keep added Sirens, two, named Able, Ous,

Near, singing softly _Eeee!_ —yes, _Eeee!_ 's the key—

For I learned long ago, below high sea:

**Words ending in 'Sea _orgy_!** **'** (that _g_ 's soft)

**Keep _Eeee!_ when _Able_ , _Ous_ are added** (oft),

**In order not to give a hard sound to**

**The ,** quote, **'Sea _orgy!_ '**—as they hardly do."

Poseidon sighed: "It's hard transcending physical desire to embrace the purely spiritual or ideal to be a platonic-loving god when there are goddesses around. They're all the same: all they ever think of is **marriage** — _simply_ because they're so **marriageable**. Oh, they're **-able** bodied enough, and it's not hard to fathom why they're called 'the softer gender': whenever they tack **able** onto a word ending in **ce** or **ge** , they take pains to retain the **e** in order to give the **c** or **g** a soft sound, as so comports with their **mar-i- _ja_ -ble **lot. We gods, though, are a hard bunch, and we'd as soon do away with the **e** as look at it in order to get the hard sound that so comports with our platonic-loving gender, and be a **marr-i- _ga_ -ble** lot. But they whom we go platonically **gaga** over won't hear it. **'Merry Gobble!'** softies say, 'is what they who are not gods and goddesses but godless _people_ say to one another prior to tearing into their Christmas turkey—and we'd not be like such gobbling _savages_ who ritually make a **sacrifice** of another mortal creature, just because it is **sacrificeable** , for the world.' And so we gods, to keep them happy, must go about soft- **ce** ing, soft- **ge** ing everything we add **able** and **ous** to, such as those we **judge** to be **judgeable** of wrong-doing, so that we, unlike hardhearted savages, now have the mortifying reputation of _'big softies!'_ —an **outrage** that is, God, **outrageous**. Even had we the **courage** to stand up to goddesses, which we never do, the best we could hope to be is softly **courageous**. We'd **change** this were it **changeable**. We worry that you, God of gods, will **notice** how soft we've become because it is so gallingly **noticeable**. We'd **induce** our goddesses to adopt a harder line, but they are not **induceable**. Instead, they **entice** us into marriage because we're so soft in the head we're **enticeable**. God . . . oh never mind **** [pause] (sigh) _done_."

**When the prefix of a word ends in the same letter with which the main part of the word begins, or when the main part of the word ends in the same letter with which the suffix begins, write both letters** ****

****

** **

****

_Condemned adulteress_ ** _Hester Prynne_** _has a few choice words for Puritan society: "I'll be damned if I'll wear any scarlet letter A—and damned if I'm not!"_

"Morally outraged Puritan society will not suffer me to make right my fix—either my prefix or my suffix. But, as much as I have been wholly **disolute** , **imodest** , **imoral** in my **brazeness** , **wantoness** , **** they can't stop me from fixing my _writes_. When my prefixes end with the same letters as the words I'm attaching them to begin, I fix/write them both: **dissolute** , **immodest** , **immoral**. When my suffixes begin with the same letters as the words I attach them to end, I 'make good' and fix/write: **brazenness** , **wantonness** . . ." ****
**  
**

199. She Righted All Her Wrongs by Writing Both

_"Adulteress!_ _Shame!"_ Hester Prynne, reviled

For having borne an out-of-wedlock child

— _"SHAME!"—_ wore the Boston, Mass.ively impressed

Big scarlet letter-A upon her breast.

She held, to save from moral-outraged harms,

The bastard infant Pearl in her arms,

Reviled by all in her immoral pre-fix:

"For her sin _before_ —and no relief-fix

After—till her end! For her duress,

_A_ -letter says it all: _Adulteress!_ "

Both letter and the word it stood for said,

_Vile! Hester Prynne_ [say "Prinn"] _, until you're dead_

_We'll be your mark of shame, for sins as wife;_

_The pre-fix—and the suffix—of your life._

_Adulteress!_ _in your beginning then_

_Shall be your end._ Thus Hester Prynne learned **When**

**The pre-fix of a word ends in the same**

**One letter that the word begins with** __ [ _Shame!_ ],

**Or when the word ends with the selfsame letter**

**Suffix starts with— _right_ them both**? Can't let her.

__

Hester saw all too clearly the "fix" she was in: **Adulteress** ended, and **shame** began, with the letter **s** ; and **shame** ended, and the suffix **-ess** , began, with the letter **e**. And the law, such as it came down hard in Puritan Boston, Mass. in 1642, demanded she _right_ both. "But that is precisely my fix," she moaned. "Morally outraged Puritan society will not suffer me to make right my fix—either my prefix or my suffix. ('She must _suffer_ for her sins.') But, as much as I have been wholly **disolute** , **disipating** , **iliberal** , **ilicit** , **imature** , **imoderate** , **imodest** , **imoral** , **iresponsible** , **iredeemable** , **ireligious** , **adicted** , **atracted** , and less than **inocent** , they can't stop me from fixing my _writes._ I now make certain that, when my prefixes end with the selfsame letters as the words I'm attaching them to begin, I fix/write them both: **dissolute** , **dissipating** , **illiberal** , **illicit** , **immature** , **immoderate** , **immodest** , **immoral** , **irresponsible** , **irredeemable** , **irreligious** , **addicted** , **attracted** , **innocent**. Neither can they stop me, for my **brazeness** , **wantoness** , **** and **rotteness** (their words) that left me in a state of **veiless** , but not **conjugaless** , lack of **barreness** —at the ripe young age of **eighteen** —from fixing these writes either. And so, when my suffixes begin with the same letters as the words I'm attaching them to end, I 'make good' and sure I fix/write them both: **brazenness** , **wantonness** , **rottenness** , **veilless** , **conjugalless** , **barrenness** —after all, I _am_ **eightteen** —" _"HESTER PRYNNE!"_ "Dear God—it's _they_ again." "We are scandalized by your 'righting' **eighteen** , an exception to the Puritan rule, by _wrongly_ writing **eightteen**. You shall now wear, along with your scarlet letter- _A_ , this scarlet letter- _T_ so all who look on your most _shame!_ ful spell will see red as to where in Puritan society you are _'AT'_ in terms of 'pure, unadulterated'— _ri-i-i-ght!_ —immorality."

**Do not carelessly misspell words**

****

** **

****

**_Dick Cave-it_** _casts a miss-spell on an alluring cave tomahto._

"Hi! My name's Dick, and I'm under the miss-spell of estrojen," "You sure as spell are— _Dick!_ There's no hyphen—and only two **s** 's—in **misspell**. And **estrogen** is spelled with a **g** — _Dick!_ " "I know, 'Gee!' is what I say each time I see a son-ripened tomahto." "Look— _Dick!_ —there's no **ah** in **tomAYto**. And I'm not **son** -ripened." "I'm not surprised, living down here in this dark cave. But that's what I'm here for: to bring a little son into your lif—" "HELL will freeze over before such a care-less miss speller as you . . ." 
**  
**

200. That Dick Was One to Carelessly Misspell

"Because I'm such a 'name' mispelling hunker,

I'm, Dick Cave-it, _some_ dame mispelunker!

So I go amongst the darkened caverns,

Grope my way amongst my fellow have-earns,

All disposable." Rubbed-elbows saw

"This Dick could care less!" _Man_ , this rubbed them raw.

From one cave to another, all the same,

Dick Cave-it played the mispelunking game;

Got blotto (all the better!) in each grotto

So to ply his mispelunking motto:

"Blottoed, it's my spell _Hi!_ pothesis

That I, Dick, cannot fail to spell a miss."

A Dick he proved to be: each cave tomahto

Saw—no dream Miss-spell inamorato,

He: since he could care less in his heart,

Dick Cave-it (sigh) miss-spelled them from the start

( _"Spelunkhead!"_ ). Dashed, all Mr. _Right_ -spell hopes

By Cave-it's could-care-less miss-spelling gropes.

**" _Dick!_ "** echoed each, to see her life go hellwards,

Caving in, " **Don't _care-less_ ly miss-spell words**!"

"Hi! My name's Dick, and I'm under the miss-spell of estrojen," Cave-it said by way of chatting up one darkly alluring cave dweller. "You sure as spell are— _Dick!_ There's no hyphen—and only two **s** 's—in **misspell**. And **estrogen** is spelled with a **g** — _Dick!_ " "I know, you delectable thing. 'Gee!' is what I say every time I see a tomahto." "Look— _Dick!_ —there's no **ah** in **tomAYto**." "Sure there is. I say 'Ah!' every time I see one with more than her fair share of—" "Oh go to h—" "I do. I go right to all those raging female hormoans" "You really are a _Dick!_ There is no **moans** in **hormones**." "Sure there are; there're gobs of them in a tomahto. I hear _them_ as soon as I say 'Hi!' which is why you should've said 'there _are_ no **moans** ' coarsing through your vains—" "They're **coursing** through my **veins** _—Dick!_ " "I know. Especially the ones in your face, which are making it just as gorjeously red as a son-ripened tomah—" "It's **gorgeously** —with a **g—** " "I know, I said 'Gee!' allreddy." " **Already**! And I'm not a **son** -ripened **tom—** " "I'm not surprised, living down here in this dark cave. But that's what I'm here for: to bring a little son into your lif—" "HELL will freeze over before such a care-less miss speller as you—don't you ever proofread what comes out your mouth?—ever brings a little son into my life!" "I see you can't I-rate me high enough on a scale of 1-2-10 the way you're always underscoring m—" "I'm **irate**. And it's 1 **to** 10. There's no number **2** in 1 to 10." "I know. That's what I misspelunked in here to talk to you about, Miss Tomahto. Whaddaya say we 2 split this 'pitch'-dark cave and go get us a little son before you—she your gurl friend?—with-her on the vine?" " _Oooooh_ , you . . . you . . . y—oh, what the hell! Who the hell else is going to miss-spell me the way you do?— _Dick!_" "Grate! I knew you'd cave 'son'ner or latter."

**For every rule there's an exception**

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** **

****

_"Merlin, holding me, a **childe** , in your arms, while at the same time treating me, _**_King Arthur_** _, like a **child** , you are casting a bad spell upon me." "No, Art, you are casting it upon yourself: **child** (infant), drop the **e;** **childe** (young man of noble birth), keep the **e**."_

"Kings, Merlin, are allways wise." **"Always."** "Damned right. Olde Solomon, showed good judgement in calling for that baby to be cut in halfs." " **Judgment** , no **e**. And it's **halves**. The **f** changes to **v** and you add **es** , **** as in **loaves**." "The kind that are eaten by oaves?" "No, **oafs**." "Well, you certainly won't catch chieves eating bread." "No, only **chiefs**." "Who only blow thier noses with handkerchiefs, I suppose." "No, they can blow **their** noses with **hankerchiefs** or **hankerchieves** , as can **dwarfs** or **dwarves** . . ." 
**  
**

201. He Took Exception to Each Rule's Exception

In days of olde, in kingdom Spellinghelle,

King Arthur came to rule for one long spell;

And so he summoned Merlin the Magician:

"I must learn to spelle." "That's some ambition,"

Merlin said. "So _teech_ me, Spelling One,

That I may cast a spelle on everyone

As well as you—oh wave your magic wande,

That I may spelle the Ladie of the Ponde."

"Methinks milady's got you spellbound, Art,

Which spelling art will make you _hellbound_ start.

"But look, Art, I can teach you all the rules

Of spelling taught in all the spelling schools

With one wave of my wand, all the mnemonics,

All the phoniness of all the phonics.

You'll have all it takes to be in her

Eyes some right royal spelling sorcerer.

All you will have to do then is remember,

This (each rule will be a burning ember

I'll instill in you to _pique_ perfection),

Art: **For every rule there's an exception**."

" _My_ all-time favorite rule is soveriegn rule." " **Sovereign** rule." "There's an echo in here. I can't wait till I've been doing it dayly for eightteen years." " **Daily** for **eighteen** years." "I just _sayed_ that. Weren't you listening?" "You just **said** that." "I _know_ I did. Must you make a repeatition of everything I say?" **"Repetition."** "You know, Merlin, you're truely beginning to annoy me." **"Truly."** "You're damned right. I'm glad we're finally in agrement." " **Agreement**. You don't drop the second **e** there." "You're trying to start an arguement with me, aren't you?" " **Argument**. You drop the **e** there." "I know something I've just developed a preferrence for dropping—from the sufficeint hieght of the Royal Gallows!" "You mean you have a **preference** for dropping it from a **sufficient height**." "Yes, and be well hung at that!" **"Hanged."** "Hang it, Merlin, there is wisedom in what you say, alright." "There is **wisdom** in what you say, **all right**." "Of course there is. Kings are allways wise." **"Always."** "Take olde Solomon, the shrewd anceint king of a foriegn land." "The **ancient** king of a **foreign** land." "He showed good judgement in calling for that baby to be cut in halfs." " **Judgment** , no **e**. And it's **halves**. The **f** changes to **v** and you add **es** , **** as in **loaves**." "The kind that are eaten by oaves?" "No, **oafs**." "Well, you certainly won't catch chieves eating bread." "No, only **chiefs**." "Who only blow thier noses with handkerchiefs, I suppose." "No, they can blow **their** noses with **hankerchiefs** or **hankerchieves** , as can **dwarfs** or **dwarves**." "Confound it, Merlin, there are too many exceptions spelt too many different ways!" "Unless someone **spelled** them that way. And that's before considering the biggest spelling rule exception of all." "Whut's _that_?" "The strong exception that subjects everywhere take to being spelled, i.e. ruled, by a monarch."

**39. Style**

****

_In matters of style, swim with the current; in matters of principle, stand like a rock._

—Thomas Jefferson

_If at first you don't succeed, failure may be your style._

—Quentin Crisp

****

**At Bottom, It's the _S_ -ence of My Style**

"Just look at me! I ask you, have you ever

Seen such a swank **_S_** on 'someone'? _Never!_

Check the curves out! Who but me would dress

Up in such chic high fashion? And _success_!

The glitz, the glamour, elegance, the dash,

The dazzle, splash—the very cheek—panache.

Me _out_ of style—no way! I always freshen

Up myself, the **_S_** -ence of expression,

So comport myself in high-class manner

I make of each an admiring scanner.

"One look on my voguish usage, __ one

Sees all their self-complacency undone

By my arrangement—weeps to see how trendy

I am from my swell **_S_** to my end-e,

_The_ most stylish of my dressing gowns

—Look! who but me is so dressed to the nouns?

But, darlings, it is time for me to slip

Now, into my _best_ close, so swankly hip.

Yes, my address is pure style—but no _clothes_ horse

I. As you can see I'm quite the closehorse."

_Oh!_ my little fashion plates, now there's Style for you! Who but Style would have the fashionable insouciance to call a close-verse a closehorse? Yes, it's not hard to see why Style is the last word in style. Now, if we only knew what kind of sty—what? _How do we know he's not the first?_ Well a child would know that—you would _think_. __ If he were the first word in style he would be 'sty,' a place _pigs_ live in, wouldn't he? And I hardly think any of you, except for one or two _who don't_ _wash behind their ears_ , would call living in a pigsty living in style. Yes, our Style is the epitome of style, but the question still remains: what _kind_ of style? What? _Is he a hair Style?_ NO, he's not a hair Style. Do you see Vidal Sassoon mincing and flitting about him, razor-cutting and layering and blow-drying his latest cutting-edge manner? No, he's long out of style, and no one on the scene has that kind of sass these da—eh? _Is he a life Style?_ What, after all the times he's been _murdered_ by little scribblers over the ears—I mean years? Well then, that leaves us to ask just what kind of style could Style possibly be if—oh, _of course_. How Sassilly of me! I don't know why it didn't come to me Sassooner. If Style is not a cutting-edge hair Style, and at the same rakish time he's not a hiply ostentatious life Style, why, then he must certainly be—yes, it's just as plain as a lackluster absence of fashion: Style is a _writing_ Style.

Well then, now that that's settled, perhaps, with what _little_ time we have left, we can look at the different ways Style sets about making you stylish; and for that we need only call upon our own Styla, fresh from daydreaming of starring on the Great Write Way opposite Marlon Brando (sigh) in _A Streetcar Named DeStyle_ , who is going to tell us, aren't you, dear? _He gives us a whole bunch of words to choose from called **Diction** , some things to put them in called **Sentences** , and some more things to put those in called **Paragraphs**._ Yes! you've hit Style right on his voguish, up-to-the-minute head. And then what does he do? Yes, take a bow! He gives us a noodleful of, here, let me say **_Sprachgefühl_** right for you: SHPROCK-ge-FYOOL, a 'feeling for language,' by which we can employ **Usage** , **Manner** , and **Arrangement** , which he further gives us that allow us to order and so use these words, sentences, and paragraphs to suit ourselves, and in just such a way that we can't help exhibiting our own unique style.

Oh, but, darlings, _shhh!_ Don't say a word about **Spelling** and **_Typography_** who ran off some time back and wedded themselves to **Punctuation**. Style has never gotten over losing his beloved **Orthography** , **Capitals** , **Italics** , **Numbers** , **** and **Abbreviations** that once figured so prominently, stylishly in his makeup. 'And after all I did for them!' he often remarks bitterly. 'Well, let them go then if that's how little they care. Who needs them anyway? They always were a superficial lot—and besides, I've got style coming out my ears without them. I'd spell out their infidelity in no uncertain terms, only . . ." and he trails off in characteristic style.

So, _quick,_ before the trail grows unfashionably cold, come, let us all put our noses to the ground and follow the heady bouquet of Style. Now now, stop your whining—the dirt will easily wash off once some of your long faces are made familiar with that time-honored process; and, besides, we simply _have_ to if we want to keep up with the latest Style. After all, he leaves us no choice, does he? No, not so much as a smidgen, except it be a number precisely equal to the number of words in the 20-volume Oxford English Dictionary, multiplied by the limitless ways they can be combined. Oh, darlings —only think of it! If you put any twenty-five words together in whatsoever order your little hearts choose, to suit your uniquely stylistic self, it's a virtual certainty that that exact string of words, in all history of human speech, will never before have been uttered. As a random, 25-word example, let me say _Yes, you're as gobsmacked as I am (or as am I), and all owing to the choice, the illimitable choices, so magnanimously given us by_

40. Diction

_Sir, what is a dictionary if not a compendium of diction gone much ary?_

—Samuel Johnson to James Boswell (attributed)

****

**To Light Upon the Right Word—Now _That's_ Choice**

"The difference twixt the almost-right word and

The right word is a LARGE one, understand:

The difference—I could give Mark Twain a hug

For saying it!—between the lightning bug

And lightning. Speakers, writers—hear my voice!

What I'm supremely all about is choice

Of words according to the time, the place,

Occasion, and the circumstances—face

It: I'm the basis of all speaking, writing.

Speaking of the basics, I'm the lighting

"For that light bulb in your head—see? _Think_

About it; let the deep profoundness sink

In. Well, you've thought about it; now, tell me:

What did you think _in_ if not words—you see?

So tell me now you've choice words in your voice,

Who gave them to you? who gave you the choice,

Too, to express, control pronunciation

_Plus_ enunciation? [Cogitation]

Your light bulb's enlightening— _you see_?

Admit it: you'd be tongue-tied without me."

Yes, and you can thank Thomas Alva Edison, my choicest of little diction-narys, for his choice invention of the light bulb. He might have chosen to invent thousands of other things, and did, but it was his invention of the little refrigerator-size light bulb inside your noodle that, whenever you open your mouth, allows you to clearly see that not a word passes your lips but that you don't _choose_ to say it. Yes, profound, isn't it? And here's another thing one soon profinds: _diction_ comes from Latin _dictio_ , "word"—what? You _knew that_? Well of course _you_ knew that, Dixion—but the others didn't know that, did they? No, just like they don't know that not all words are the same; that some are localisms, some provincialisms, some jingoistic card-carrying nationalisms, while still others more properly belong to technical expressions, jargon, cant, gobbledygook, or the like; and words can be standard, nonstandard, formal, or informal, just as they can be sincere or disingenuous, kind or inconsiderate, praising or vilifying, loving or hateful—and all, as Diction himself said in so many words, according to time, occasion, circumstances, and place. But, confind it—I mean con _found_ it—why am _I_ telling you all this when I've paid Samuel Johnson, "Dr. Dictionary" himself, the man who literally wrote the book on words ( _A Dictionary of the English Language,_ 1755) to do that for me. "I am not so lost in lexicography," the great man said, "as to forget that words are the daughters of earth, and that things are the sons of heaven." He then went on to render some choice down-to-earth definitions, some few of which may serve to demonstrate just how discerning the good Dr. was in his choice of words:

**Cough.** _n.s._ A convulsion of the lungs vellicated by some sharp serosity.

**Pastern.** _n.s._ The knee of a horse. [It is, in fact, the part of a horse's foot between the fetlock and the top of the hoof. Asked how he could have made such a boneheaded mistake he replied, "Ignorance, Madam, pure ignorance."]

Note, class, the good Dr.'s discriminating choice of the word "ignorance." He might have chosen to say "carelessness," "stupidity," or, as virtually every author but himself and one other, "a typographical error." But, no, not he. Manfully (sigh), he chose to confess (rather than _admit, admit to,_ or _confess to,_ all inferior choices) his embarrassing lack of knowledge—twice, in case she didn't hear him the first time. Yes, he humbled himself before her and bore the stinging humiliation with meek and retiring grace; and _then_ —oh! didn't he have a few choice words to say in

**The Novel Rules of Diction**

**Samuel Johnson, James Boswell**

Make your dictionary your best friend

**Aim-eh Semple McPherson**

Aim for simplicity in diction

**Miss Manners**

Do not misuse one word for another

**Daisy Mae, Li'l Abner**

Favor concrete over abstract words

**Uncle Sam**

Choose an appropriate level of usage

**Fatty Arbuckle**

Do not use obsolete or archaic words

**Leonardo da Vinci, Pope Leo X**

Avoid provincialisms

**Ogden Nash**

Avoid inappropriate nationalisms

**Geoffrey Chaucer**

Avoid mixed and inappropriate figures of speech

**Nadia Comaneci**

Do not add words to an idea otherwise expressed

**Bernie Ebbers**

Avoid overuse of the same word or phrase in close succession

**Richard Pryor**

Avoid improprieties in grammatical function

**Vlad the Imp(paler)**

Avoid improprieties in meaning

**Joseph Stalin**

Do not use two or more words where one will serve

**Frit Slang**

Avoid slang in formal and informal writing

**Zorba the Greek**

Use sanctioned idiomatic expressions

**the Divine Ms. M**

Avoid euphemisms in all writing

**Captain Queeg**

Avoid using illiterate words and phrases

**Errol Flynn**

Avoid overuse of foreign words

**Edgar Allan Poe**

Avoid the use of poetic words in prose

**Neolo Donnell**

Use neologisms sparingly and only where appropriate

**Pablo Picasso**

Use words or phrases that paint a picture

**John Cleese**

Avoid clichés like the plague

**Alexander Graham Bell, Watson, Abe**

Use colloquialisms appropriately and effectively

**Adam Clayton Vowel**

Vary the position of _she said_ phrases

**Bloody Mary**

Cultivate variety in words

**Romeo and Juliet**

Do not engage in phony dialogue

**Dean Martin**

Use only denotative words when they are appropriate

**Harry Potter, Pol Pot**

Weed out the jargon

**Verb-be Hancock, Baba Ram Dass, Allen Ginsberg, Timothy Leary**

Avoid the use of be in place of say, as well as in circumlocutory be phrases

**Attila the Hon**

Use vulgar language only with discretion

**Ebeneezer Scrooge, Tiny Tim**

Don't rely on crutch words to support lame writing

**Dicktion Tracy**

Avoid pretentious diction
**  
**

**Make your dictionary your best friend**

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** **

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_Biographer_ ** _James Boswell, Dr. Samuel Johnson_** _'s second-best friend, adroitly mines pearls of diction from the great man for **The Life of Samuel Johnson**. _

"And what is diction, Boswell, but 'the words one chooses to say a thing.' Only consider how I chose to define **patron** : _A wretch who supports with insolence, and is repaid with flattery_. And **pension** : _An allowance made to anyone without an equivalent. In England it is generally understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country_." "But, Dr., you yourself receive a generous pensio—" "Sir, dictionaries are like watches: the worst is better than none, and the best cannot be expected to go quite true. . . ." 
**  
**

202. His Second-best Friend Got His Pearls of Diction

In Jolly Olde, without a word of fiction,

Englishmen had nary any diction

They could speak of, and they didn't vary

Their excuse: "We 'ave no dickshunary

We can 'unt wurds up in, could we spelle

Them out in letturs." Up rose Samuel

(Called later "Dr.") Johnson. "I shall end

This lack of diction once for all; I'll spend

My best years writing my—I'll _do_ it; _hang_ wage!—

_Dictionary of the English Language._

"Boswell, James, biographer and friend,

I do despair of seeing any end

To _all these words_ betimes—and yet I _must_

Go drudging on; the English have their trust

In me to teach, through bookish, sir, conviction,

They whom I would make 'my friends' good diction.

Altruism, sir, I'll say it plain,

Is all my motive; I've no thought of gain.

Who'd be enriched with words (Lord, how they'll _spend_!)

Knows: **Make your diction-nary your best friend**.

"And what is diction, Sir," the lexicographer rambled on as he and Boswell walked the Hebrides, "but 'the words one chooses to say a thing.' Only ponder how I chose to define **oats**. I might have said, _Any of various grasses of the genus Avena widely cultivated for their edible grains_. Yet, I chose to state: _A grain, which in England is generally given to horses, but in Scotland appears to support the people_. Likewise, I might have chosen to define **patriotism** : _**1.**_ _Love for and devotion to one's country. **2.** A virulent form of autism marked by incurable jingoism, the deathly result of contact with a contagious patriaut. _Instead, I chose to be brief and to the point: _The last refuge of a scoundrel._ But, Sir, I would have you indulge me further. Who could have faulted me for defining **patron** : _A sponsor or benefactor_? And yet, of this welshing bit of rarebit, I took the liberty, Sir, to write (no man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money): _A wretch who supports with insolence, and is repaid with flattery_. I might have satisfied the most caviling soul with **pension** : _A sum of money paid regularly as a retirement benefit_. Yet, Sir, I took the high road, exercising my legs as well as my God-given right of choice, and defined it _An allowance made to anyone without an equivalent. In England it is generally understood to mean pay given to a state hireling for treason to his country._ " "But you yourself receive a generous pensio—" "Sir, dictionaries are like watches: the worst is better than none, and the best cannot be expected to go quite true. As to the pension, that is easily explained, in a word: King George _chose_ to give it to me, and I _chose_ to accept it—and there's an end on't. Just so, Sir, have I given each diction-nary total freedom of choice in his diction, thus depriving him of all excuse. How shall I be loved!" "How indeed, Dr.? _How_ indeed?''

**Aim for simplicity in diction**

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** **

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_Foursquare evangelist_ ** _Aim-eh Semple Mcpherson_** _keeping it Semple, along with her lookalike disciple, at Angelus Temple, the world's first megachurch, 1942._

"Instead of keeping my choice of words simple, eh, I had to go and weave this web of lies, saying I was kidnapped. Instead of, in answer to the simple question 'Where, in God's name, have you _been_ for the past month, Aim-eh?' keeping my diction simple, 'I was shacked up with my lover, eh,' I had to try covering it up. O God, I've learned my lesson. Whenever I stupidly, simple-mindedly keep a lover in a love nest, I'm no longer going to KISS (Keep It _Semple_ , Stupid); I'm going to KISS (Keep It _Simple_ , Stupid). . . ."
**  
**

203. Her Aim to Keep Her Diction Simple Missed

Canuck-born Aim-eh Semple, eh, McPherson

Got God's calling: _Go forth!_ _preach in person_

_Your own Foursquare Gospel._ Aim-eh Semple,

Preached throughout America; her temple,

Eh, a threadbare tent; saved each donation

(Millions) she got all throughout the nation.

Pitching camp in L. A., Aim-eh thus

Built "Semple City" ( _Temple Angelus_ )

Wherein she fire-preached her Foursquare Gospel

" _Died_ —for _your_ salvation—on the cross!"spell;

Held them spellbound—"Died by _crucifixion_!"—

All her Foursquare mass with Semple diction.

Aim-eh, though, for love (the weaker sex)

—Woe! got her diction Semp _lie_ , eh, complex:

She: "I was kidnapped; held a month—for ransom!"

("Held" her, all right, this "kidnapper" handsome—

_Close_ , eh, in a love nest in Carmel).

Her Foursquare Gospel—poof!—went all to hell.

Thus Aim-eh Semple learned, for all the friction:

**Aim** , eh, **for simplicity in diction**.

"Oh _what_ a tangled diction we've / When we spout fiction to deceive!" Aim-eh confessed when it all came out. "Instead of keeping my choice of words, and the way I pronounced them, simple, eh, I had to go and weave this fantastical web of lies, pronouncing myself kidnapped. When asked the simple question 'Where, in God's name, have you _been_ for the past month, Aim-eh?' instead of keeping my diction simple by choosing short words over long, and simply enunciating, 'I was shacked up with my lover, eh' (which would have conveyed an endless _longing_ , one beyond all words), I had to try covering it up—the most cardinal of sins, eh—by spinning this complex web of deceit, for which, God, I can only pronounce myself the most simple-minded of sinners. Oh, Lordy, it was _stupid_ of me to have yielded to that Semple weakness—and stupider yet to have cooked up that complex, cockamamie story of being kidnapped, eh. I should have known better. How many times have we seen in politics (you know, that competing belief system in which one's asked to unquestioningly place one's faith in the All Might-he, never stopping to think he might _not_ do all the things he promised) that it's not the crime, it's the cover-up, eh? How often have we heard the big words and convoluted locutions by even bigger egos using complex, self-justifying diction to paint themselves the victims of a 'partisan witch hunt' or 'vast right/left-wing conspiracy'? O God, I've learned my lesson. From now on, whenever I stupidly, simple-mindedly keep a lover in a love nest in Carmel, I swear by all that is holy to resist the sinful, complex temptations of the flash. Yes, from here on out I am no longer going to KISS (Keep It _Semple_ , Stupid). No, I am going to KISS (Keep It _Simple_ , Stupid). At least, Lord (you have my choicest words on this), that's my aim, eh."

**Do not misuse one word for another**

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** **

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**_Miss Manners_** ** __**_on a bad- **hair** (not **hare** ) day._

"Miss Manners, if I might **counsel** (not **council** ) you: recently, you put a young woman on the **bridle** (instead of **bridal** ) path, though she _was_ a nag, and suggested she **precede** ( **proceed** ) with **_martial_** ( **marital** ) relations you were **confidant** ( **confident** ) would lead to a **climatic** ( **climactic** ) **naval** ( **navel** ) engagement. You advised her to show her feminine **metal** ( **mettle** ), and be a **heroin** ( **heroine** ) to her sex. You said you **suspected** ( **expected** ) this would be **healthy** ( **healthful** ); that wedding bells were **eminent** ( **imminent** ) . . ."
**  
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204. She Badly Miss-used One Word for Another

Miss Manners, in the business to dispense

Advice to those who lack the common sense

Of etiquette she's got in one small pinky

("Ladies, raise them when you're eaty/drinky"),

Read: "Miss Manners, How can I say 'Mother,

Meet my special opposite-se— _other_ '?

Etiquette dictates: 'One's "meet" expression

Mustn't mention _that_ word—meet discretion!

That one word will fall on Mother's ears

And fill them full of one-word Mother-fears.'

"Help!" "Dear Miss P. C., That is a conundrum

I'll now solve for you: in mother's one drum

Or its mate, bespeak a foreign word

For _other_ , one that she has never heard,

Say, _otro_ or else _autre_ , for example.

She'll not guess your _other_ 's the sex sample.' "

Incensed reader writes: "Miss Manners, _nice!_

Your giving Miss P. C. such bad advice.

You, Miss of _misses_ , should know, re one's mother:

**DO NOT, Miss, use one-word foreign _other_**.

"Also, if I might strongly **counsel** (not **council** ) you further, _Do not misuse one word for another_ ," this indignant reader went on setting Miss Manners straight. "There (not **their** or **they're** ) are a large **number** (not **amount** ) of such words that look alike and/or are somewhat related, but have vastly different meanings. For instance, I am writing you on **stationery** (not **stationary** ) to **advise** (not **inform** ) you to be more careful in making **moral** (not **morale** ) pronouncements since words **affect** (not **effect** ) people profoundly. Nothing **personal** (not **personnel** ), but I find you **altogether** (not **all together** ) **too** (not **to** ) **loose** (not **lose** ) in your word choices. The **principle** (not **principal** ) you espouse may be sound, but the misuse of one word for another can **elicit** (not **illicit** ) the **opposite** (not **apposite** ) response. You blithely use a word you think **complements** (not **compliments** ) your principle when **it's** (not **its** ) perfectly **adverse** (not **averse** ) to your good intention. Recently, you put a young woman on the **bridle** (instead of **bridal** ) path, though she _was_ a nag, and suggested she **precede** (instead of **proceed** ) with **_martial_** (instead of **marital** ) relations you were **confidant** (instead of **confident** ) would lead to a **climatic** (instead of **climactic** ) **naval** (rather than **navel** ) engagement. You advised her to show her feminine **metal** (instead of **mettle** ), and be a **heroin** (instead of **heroine** ) to her sex. You said you **suspected** (you meant **expected** ) this would be **healthy** ( **healthful** ) for her; that wedding bells were **eminent** ( **imminent** ) and would **insure** ( **ensure** ) her **continual** ( **continuous** ) **** happiness. While I **censure** (not **censor** ) you for this **bizarre** (not **bazaar** ) behavior, I sincerely hope you'll **accept** (not **except** ) it graciously from one who is **respectfully** (not **respectively** ), Your Mother (not **parental unit** —and most _definitely not_ **OLD LADY** )."

**Favor concrete over abstract words**

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** **

****

**_Daisy Mae_** _has been fishing, in vain, for a concrete expression out of Li'l Abner to ce-ment their relationship._

"Tell me, Ab, what's your himpression of me?" "Well . . . uh . . . you look very, er, um . . . _nice_. You're a . . . _good_ gal, Daisy Mae. Shucks, you're . . . _okay_." "You Abs-tract _lunk!_ Couldn't you just ONCE put some _gravel_ in your voice, mix it up with enough fine-agreein' _amper sand_ to amp up the andulatin's, and _ce_ -ment our relationship, with a few _concrete_ expressin's, like 'you're built like a _brick bunkhouse_ ,' 'your figure's as solid as a _petreefied hick'ry log_ ,' and 'your _kisser_ is prettier'n a _Dogpatch sunset_ '? . . ."
**  
**

205. Cement Makes Concrete; Concrete Makes Ce-ment

Poor Daisy Mae, the day that she was born

A babe, was fated to be (sigh) lovelorn:

The dream-hunk bumpkin that she loved, Li'l Abner,

Was no sweetheart come down to sweetgabb'n' 'er:

"Ab's so abstract in his colloquy,

His words are plain flat-out _un_ flattery!

He never lets an Ab-struck sweet word slip

His lip to ce-ment our relationship.

One concrete word from Ab of Abmiration

Could lay down a lifelong love foundation

"Built like a brick outhouse; that fulfilled,

How might a tow'ring love upon it build;

And if he said it _truly_ , like he meant it,

That love-favor done me'd plum ce-ment it!"

But all Daisy Mae got out of Ab

Was flat-out aggravating abstract gab

From out Ab's Adam's-appled vocal tract

—No favored concrete. Daisy Mae, tear-racked,

Wept, "Gravel, sand, ce-ment—in equal thirds;

Ab, **Favor _concrete_ over Ab's-tract words**!"

But Ab had a total absence of _sense_ when it came to the five senses. He used words that referred to intangible _ideas_ or _concepts_ that a frustrated Daisy Mae could not _smell_ , _taste_ , _hear_ , _touch_ , or _see_. And always he used vague rather than colorful, vigorous words. Still she persisted: "Tell me, Ab, what's your himpression of me? "Well . . . uh . . . um . . . ," he faltered in answer to her latest fishing expedition, as he rummaged about his vocal tract for words he thought would make her happy. "You, uh, look very, er, um . . . _nice_ ," he blurted out at last with an air of triumph. But Daisy Mae just glared with looks that could kill. Sensing his very life hung on an encouraging word, Ab frantically plumbed the deepest recesses of his vocal tract. After some protracted rummaging his eyes lit up and he blurted out in his bassest voice, "You're a . . . _good_ gal, Daisy Mae." Then, after being stabbed murderously by the most piercing eye daggers she'd ever shot his way, "Shucks, you're . . . _okay_." That did it. Daisy Mae burst out in a tearful rage: " _You-u_ abstract _lunk!_ You couldn't bring your sorry-asked self to swear I'm built like a _brick bunkhouse_? That I've got a _drop-dead hourglass_ _figure_ that's as solid as a _petreefied hick'ry log_? A _kisser_ prettier'n a _Dogpatch sunset_? __ That I'm sweeter'n _more lasses_ that's fallen into a _bare-all of beat 'Sugar's_? Couldn't you just ONCE put some _gravel_ in your voice, mix it up with enough fine-agreein' _amper sand_ to amp up the andulations, and _see-meant_ the whole lot together with enough Ab-struck compliments meant to see I'm as flattered as a _June bug_ 'neath a _Mormon fam'ly's wagon wheel_ —and come up with a few _concrete_ expressin's?" Ab finally got it. "Daisy Mae," he gushed, paving the way to laying an Ab-solute heavy on her that could not be any flatter, "darned if you ain't _cute as swell_ in the aggrevate."

**Choose an appropriate level of usage**

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** **

****

**_Uncle Sam_** _is a shining example of using appropriate language._

" **I want YOU** to use language appropriate to the neighborhood/ **ghetto** : 'What's up, brother?'/ **'Wassup, bro?'** ; 'He's very good.'/ **'He be bad'** ; 'You're crazy!'/ **'You crazy!'** ; 'Where'd you get those pointed-toed shoes?'/ **'Where you been gettin' dem roach-in-da-corner killers?'** 'He's a real loser: a sap, a luckless one, a jerk, a drag, a slob, a boob, a cheapskate, a complainer.' **'Such a nebech he is. A real shlemiel, a shlimazl, a shmuck, a shlump, a shlepper, a shmo, a shnorrer, and a kvetcher** ' . . . " ****
**  
**

206. His Usage Level Was Appropriate

As is his Constitution-granted right,

Strong Uncle Sam, to exercise his might

(His _mighty_ might) of eminent domain,

Just loves to flex his muscle, what, to gain

An inch upon his biceps? No, not he:

A _yard_ —some feat!—of _private property_

From someone he deems private realty"wise"

In just the _no_ -right property-own guise

Of 98-lb weakling to the weight

Of Sam whose muscle's "right" appropriate.

So they go at it. Sam kicks off the pace

By kicking sand—lots—in the weakling's face.

He knocks the sandlot owner down (the pain!

_No_ body can lick eminent domain).

"I'm wise now: I see I'm weak as a lamb,

While you've got all the MUSCLE, Uncle Sam!

So level with me Uncle, tell me, who

Do you choose to appropriate, fell— _who_?"

"Some wise guy! I **Choose an appropriate**

POW!] [**level of _you_ , sage** _—_ square in the gut."

The 98-lb weakling, seeing he has no rights—and no property—sees that the key word in the no-contest is _appropriate_ (take without permission) _._ That is, what's appropriate for _someone else_ is in no wise appropriate for the native NIMBY. Rubbing the sand from his sighs, he sees that NIMBY is an acrimony for **N** ot **I** n **_M_** _y_ **B** ack **Y** ard! "Oh, I see," he cries, wising up fast, "the _appropriate_ level of usage is for Uncle Sam (US) to appropriate (take) _someone else's_ back yard for a halfway house, homeless shelter, landfill, prison, sewage plant, etc.—and look how nimbly US goes about it, above all if someone else's back yard is not so much a neighborhood as it is a ghetto/'hood where one hears lingo appropriate to the region. Take the apt expressions heard in one's own neighborhood compared to the _appropriate_ vulgarisms one hears in the **'hood:** 'What's up, brother?'/ **'Wassup, bro?'** ; 'He's very good.'/ **'He be bad'** ; 'You're crazy!'/ **'You crazy!'** ; 'She's acting like a snob' / **'She signifyin' all hankty'** ; 'I'm working steady. I've had this job for ten years.'/ **'I be steady workin'. I been had dis job fo' ten year'** ; 'Where'd you get those pointed-toed shoes?/ **'Where you been gettin' dem roach-in-da-corner killers?'** Or one's **** neighborhood compared to the **ghetto** : 'He's a real loser: a sap, a luckless one, a jerk, a drag, a slob, a boob, a cheapskate, a complainer—no stand-up guy. Am I supposed to like him?/ **'Such a nebech he is. A real shlemiel, a shlimazl, a shmuck, a shlump, a shlepper, a shmo, a shnorrer, and a kvetcher. A mensh he's not. I should like him already?'** Since such usage in the **'hood/ghetto** is appropriate, how appropriate it is for US to nimbly take their denizens for 98-lb weaklings/saps, all on the most appropriate level of usage: it's appropriate for US to flat-out level those who be standin' in our way."
**  
**

**Do not use obsolete or archaic words**

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** **

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_Exonerated of the rap of having strangled to death silent actress Virginia Rappe,_ ** _Roscoe "Fatty" Arbuckle_** _, seated on rocky legal ground, gets another bum wrap._

The judge read silent-film-star Fatty's affidavit: " **Hark!** __ (listen). __**Forsooth** (in truth), my **teen** (not my juvenile delinquent, my grief) is profound. **Lackaday! Wellaway!** (regret, woe). **Methinks** it an injustice and most **unmeet** (improper) that I, an innocent **wight** (person) **whilom** (formerly) a star, am now charged with **murther** (murder). **Egad!** __ Surely you **jape** (jest)." "Fathead! How old—not **olde** —do you think I _am_? And even if I were, how do you think I would understand their modern equivalent in parentheses? . . ."
**  
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207. Archaic, Obsolete? 'Twas No Bum Rap

" _Gross!_ Roscoe 'Fatty' Arbuck— _all_ his body's

HUGE (the zillion moviegoers)—God, he's

Just the BIGGEST silent star—a ton!

No wonder he out-grosses everyone.

Like Fatty, we are of that body who

Just _love_ to have 'our cake'—and Edith too—

So eat her up in silents, Edith Shearer,

We and Fatty; we hold nothing dearer:

Eating our cake, while our fave stars play

Act." [As the modern body does today]

That body just ate Fatty up till—" _Gross!_

Our Fatty's charged with killing— _adipose_

_Fiend!_ —silent actress—poor Virginia Rappe!"

That body, oh, made one not-silent flap.

Poor Fatty never got another role

(Sob!)—ate his broken heart out, ate his soul,

His silent words "our cake" (oh, how it hurt

His body'd never _hear_ of it: dessert).

A body knows: In silents (the unheards)

**Do not use sob-soul-eater "our cake" words**.

**Lackaday! Wellaway!** (regret, woe). Poor Fatty Arbuckle had paid a terrible price to be a silent film star: he had no voice with which to utter his expressions of lamentation and **infortune** (misfortune). That tremendous body _would not hear_ of his obsolete and archaic words, much less his lack of **taynt** (guilt)—of **murther** (murder)—so Fatty had to **thole** (suffer) in silence in **gaol** (jail). Having eaten all his heart out and his soul, and followed those up by silently eating his "our cake" words, **verily** (truly), he felt he had had quite **enow** (enough) to eat, and wished that **anon** (soon) he might taste sweet freedom. But **alack! alas!** (woe). What to do? Being a silent film star, he could not speak up in his own defense. He pondered **amain** __ and __**inly** (exceedingly and inwardly). " **Certes!** (certainly)," he thought **erelong** (soon after). "I must **needs** (of necessity) **scribe** (write) out my mute defense." He did, and the judge read: " **Hark!** __ (listen). __**Forsooth** (in truth), my **teen** (no, not my juvenile delinquent, my grief) is profound. **Fie! Methinks** it an injustice and most **unmeet** (improper) that I, an innocent **wight** (person) **whilom** (formerly) a star, am now charged with **murther**. **Egad!** __ Surely you **jape** (jest). I would as **lief** (willingly) be **fain** (happy) to have you release me **betimes** __ (soon) and wish me good **speed** (prosperity), for which I would say, had I voice, **gramercy!** (thank you). "You fathead!" the judge fumed. "How old—not **olde** —do you think I _am_? These obsolete and archaic words you boldly proffer in your defense are ancient _Greek_ to me. And even if I were, as you fatheadedly assumed, that **olde** , how did you think I was going to be able to understand their modern equivalent in _parentheses_? **Zounds!** I find **thee** guilty of woeful misjudgment, for which I sentence **thee** to have **thy** damned archaic—and obsolete it too—for **yon** _life._ **Avaunt!** "
**  
**

**Avoid provincialisms**

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** **

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_In a pro-Vincial mood,_ ** _Leonardo da Vinci_** _can't wait to show Pope Leo X his latest invention._

Enter Leonardo: "Y'all must be the head Latin mumbler. I'll lay odds you've sprinkled more holy water than a leaky Holy Roller on All-Spirits Day. Honey, these digs've got more God in them than 'Goddamn!" in the mouth of a wet cat. But, your head cracker, I'd like to argufy you into feastin' your choir-boy oglers on a different Holy Roller I've conjured up. I call it the Popemobile, and it's more bull--it-proof (though I've gotta add a couple parts to it yet) than the wife of an adulterous fisher—" "W-W-Why [splutter] . . ."
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208. Avoid Provincialisms? Not da Vinci

Designer, painter, sculptor, engineer,

Math polymath, anatomist, and peer-

less Everyman, philosopher, inventor,

Music master, archetypal mentor,

Scientist like none before or since, he,

Genius, Leonardo, yes, da Vinci,

Artful/intellectual quintessence,

Renaissance man, more its very essence,

Paragon! If any'd right to be

Right high upon himself, then it was he.

For all the genius, though, he did, da Vinci,

Manifest and otherwise evince, he

Spared of pointing out her smile and crowing,

" _Masterly_ my Mona Lisa!" knowing

"Too pro-Vinci, as is 'What _invention_

Was my bicycle, and did I mention,

Blah-blah-blah-blah. . . .' No, such self-promotion

Won't earn me one lesser man's devotion

[There his genius lay]. Such egotisms

Paint one _'Vain!'_ **Avoid pro-Vincialisms**."

Growing up in the province of Tuscany, Leonardo learned many small-p provincialisms; and not merely those of Tuscany and the surrounding provinces of Italy, but many if not all the provincialisms in every region of the Old World. And when, in 1492, Christopher Columbus discovered the New World, it wasn't long before Leonardo was conversant with those as well. He'd lined the walls of his prodigious mind with unique and colorful expressions from every province of the Old World, but, region after artful region, he was discovering that the New World had elevated dialect to the level of high art: America was one coast-to-coast _gallery_. One wing in particular, called simply "the South," was chock full of local colloquial masterpieces, and he began acquiring them with all the zeal of a collector. At this time a pro-Vinci (based on Leonardo's "The Adoration of the Magi") Pope Leo X summoned the master to the Vatican to offer him a fat commission to paint Jesus Christ's final breaking of bread with his disciples. [enter Leonardo] "Y'all must be the head Latin mumbler. I'll lay odds you've sprinkled more holy water than a leaky holy roller on All-Spirits Day. [looking around] Honey, these digs've got more God in them than 'Goddamn!" in the mouth of a wet cat. But, your head cracker, I'd like to argufy you into feastin' your choir-boy oglers on a different holy roller I've conjured up. I call it the Popemobile, and it's more bull--it-proof (though there's a couple of parts I've gotta add to it yet) than the wife of an adulterous fisherma—" "W-W-Why [splutter] of—of all the impudent— _go!_ —and you can DAMNED well paint our Lord's final meal _without_ my patronage! But I can assure you," Pope Leo, disabused of pro-Vincialism, shouted after Leonardo, retiring with a Mona Lisa smile, "—it'll be 'The _Last_ Supper' you ever paint!"

**Avoid inappropriate nationalisms**

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** **

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_Popular light versifier_ ** _Ogden Nash_** _is not a little green himself at being grossed out ($220,000 before taxes) by_ _VOMIT members voiding inappropriate nationalisms._

"In America, members of Versifiers Of Meterless Ill-humored Taste (VOMIT), in a desperate attempt to make up for a lack of 'mete' in their diatribes, assault and pepper their verse (still as tasteless as ever) with Britishisms: _petrol_ , _all-to-smash_ , _lorry_ , _bugger off_ , _agony aunt_ , _up the duff_. __ Brits chow down on Australianisms: _barbie_ , _billabong_ , _tucker bag_ , _sheila_ , _fair dinkum_. __ Aussies put _buffalo wings_ on the _barbecue_ and help themselves to more Americanisms: _grits_ , _soda_ , _cotton candy_ , _tenderloin_ , _busboy_ . . ." __
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209. Fed Up, His Nationalisms Filled a Void

Famed light-verse poet Ogden Nash arose

To fortune, world renown, _respect_. The "pros,"

Proverbially sore light-verse protestors

Who proclaim themselves, as each sore festers,

_The_ sole pro-creative [read profound]

Pro bono (free-verse) __ "poets" who, like Pound,

_Profane_ his light verse, nursing their pro peeve

They've programmed their each proton to believe:

_They_ _should be rich and famous_ ; yet they moan

And gnash their teeth, dirt poor, unloved, unknown.

Pop go the Prozacs, easier to swallow

Than Nash light verse eating their guts hollow,

_Selling_ , giving him a heavy purse,

Theirs weightless, having sold no HEAVY verse,

Hoist on their own petard: their verse is _free_.

And look! they're _turning_ green. Oh, could it be

With envy? Oh, and how their stomachs heave.

And see! they're _vomiting_ —I do believe

They're learning, **Ah! _VOID_ in-a-pro pre-ate**

**Nash— _shun all!_ —isms**. Such a HEAVY weight!

"Yes, and maybe when they've voided their upset stomachs of every last Nashtige of me (having had a bellyful), they'll invoke their purgative powers to also _avoid inappropriate nationalisms_ : words and phrases not readily understood outside their country. And what a bellyful! Not only have they had to eat their words ('Nash will never make it outside of Nashville'), but, in their misguided notion of having to consume a well-balanced diatribe, they have appropriated, and inappropriately eaten, _their_ words as well: those belonging to foreign nationals. Only take a look how, in America, members of Versifiers Of Meterless Ill-humored Taste (VOMIT), in a desperate attempt to make up for a lack of 'mete' in their diatribes, freely assault and pepper their _sorry us!_ verse (yet it's still as tasteless as ever) with Britishisms: _petrol_ , _all-to-smash_ , _lorry_ , _banger_ , _over-egging the pudding_ , _bugger off_ , _agony aunt_ , _up the duff_ , _lovely jubbly_ , _brolly_ , _bubble and squeak_ , _gobsmacked_ , _zebra crossing_ , _toad-in-the-hole_ , _higgledy-piggledy_. __ At the same time, members of the British chapter, fearing losing the nationalism pig-out, franticly chow down on Australianisms: _barbie_ , _billabong_ , _tucker bag_ , _sheila_ , _bloke_ , _fair dinkum_ , _ankle biter_ , _arvo, billy_ , _digger_ , _dilly bag_ , _bush telegraph_ , _good on ya_ , _grog_ , _rellies_ , _tucker_ , _woop woop_ , _yobbo_ , _prezzies_ , _swag_. Meanwhile, Aussies, hungering for Yankeeisms, put a mess of _buffalo wings_ on the _barbecue_ as they help themselves to _, grits_ , _soda_ , _cotton candy_ , _tenderloin_ , _busboy_ , _fanny pack_ , _hickey_ , _gangbanger_ , _booger_ , _crapshoot_ , _pantyhose_ , _sneakers_ , _dumpster_ , _wetback_ , _station wagon_ , _hobo_ , _rain check_ , then wipe their _yaps_ with _Kleenex_. But always a light eater myself, and seeing everyone's had it up to here with nationalisms, I have composed averse for the occasion I think is most meet: Candy / Is dandy / But _knicker_ / Is sick err."

**Avoid mixed and inappropriate figures of speech**

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** **

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**_Geoffrey Chaucer_** _leads a mixed bag of inappropriate figures of speech on the road to Canterbury._

"Alas! For all my pilgrims are inn-appropriate figures of speech, they are proving most _inappropriate_. The knight began his tale wagging the dog always turns around three times before lying down and out in the mouth of the lion. I see the handwringing on the wall. Inappropriate mixed-up figures of speech are taking the wind out of my red sales in the sunset, but I've made my bed and I'll just have to lie across that bridge when I come to the fork in the road less travelled by than meets the eyeteeth of the beholder . . ."
**  
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210. _Avoid_ Mixed Figures of Speech? He'd Be Nuts

To tell the world his _Canterbury Tales_

(And put some blowhard wind into its sales),

Sly Geoffrey Chaucer thought to call on, he,

Such goodly mixed bag of humanity

As one might find appropriate that date

At inn, in cheer, in thirteen hundreds late,

To wax in verse, enliven (they the jury)

Pious pilgrimage to Canterbury;

And, all told (two going, coming back

Each), judge themselves of their tale-telling knack.

A knight, a miller, cook, a man of law,

A nun, a priest, a squire each worked their jaw;

A parson, prioress, a wife of Bath,

A clerk, a monk much livelied up their path,

And more; and for the blue tales and the red

[Blush] faces for off-colored things so said

In their mixed company, yes, he could see

_Gold_ ("No. 1 Best Teller")! _Nuts_ he'd be

Then to **Avoid the use of** __ [bless them each!]

**Mixed figures (inn-appropriate) of speech**.

But the pilgrims were not far along the old road to Canterbury before Chaucer discovered that using a mixed bag of _inappropriate_ figures of speech was quite a different kettle of fish to fry without a bicycle. With fire in the belly of music soothes the savage beast, the knight began his tale wagging the dog always turns around three times before lying down and out in the mouth of the lion: "A knight can lead his horse to water but / One mustn't count the chickens in his gut." Seeing that a mix is as good as a meal, the miller threw his hat into the ringing in the new year: "Who takes a bird's tail with a grain assault / Into an open wound—is much at fault." The cook, whose specialty was the mixed grill, wasted no thyme throwing all his eggs into one pot calling the kettle blackest before the dawn: "Man jumps from frying pan into—don't fire / Until you see the egg whites of desire!" The man of law had mixed feelings about right and the customer is always in the wrong place at the wrong time: "A wink is just as good as an odd mind / To horse of different justice, collar blind." "O cloisters," wept the prioress, "you've had a _none_ -mixed run / You've mixed it up with _no_ man— _good_?" But mixture came there: nun: "God, virtue is it's own reward for in- / formation leading to conviction: sin," spurring the priest into confession is good for what ails the traveled soul: "To heir is human, to forgive Divine / The truth? forgive that I've begot, God, mine." And so, one by one for the books that got away, Chaucer saw the handwringing on the wall: "Alas!" he cried wolf is at the door, "I see how inappropriate mixed-up figures of speech are at taking the wind out of my red sales in the sunset, but I've made my bed and I'll just have to lie across that bridge when I come to the fork in the road less traveled by than meets the eye teeth of the beholder."

**Do not add words to an idea otherwise expressed**

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_In 1976 in the past, Romanian gymnast _**_Nadia Comaneci_** _ herself was the first gymnast to get a faultless perfect ten (10), and now today, as is transparently clear, she still does. _

"I dreamed that I _,_ Nadia Comaneci, was a top __ world-class gymnast. Realizing it could be a false __ delusion, and the end __ result failure, still I made future __ plans, hoping for good __ success. I performed before many live __ audiences, winning every judge's favorable __ approval, getting seven ( _7!_ ) 10s, seven most __ perfect scores. It is my personal __ opinion, a unanimous __ consensus, that I am over and __ above perfect, unique, __ one-of-a-kind, the gold-medal champion winner at adding, tacking on words to an idea otherwise expressed . . ."
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211. She Doubled Down Expressing Her Ideas

[Roar] "Nadia Comaneci— _a perfect 10!_

_Again!—again!—again!—again!—again!_

— ** _Again!_** She's done what's not been done before,

Times _seven_ : perfect 10, the perfect score!"

Scene: Montreal. Year: 1976.

Olympics (Summer). Women's Gymnas—" _sticks_

The landing! Only fourteen, she astounds,

Just eighty-six Romanian _perfect_ pounds.

The darling of the press, a perfect peach,

Is fifty-nine inch / **Nahd** -ee-ya **ko** -ma- **NEECH** /."

Oh, right up till the blest Olympic flame

Was snuffed each one spoke _"10!"_ derly her name;

The press could not put darling Nadia down,

The toast, the talk of that Olympic town.

Oh, how they beat the Comaneci-mad drum,

Expressed: **"A NADIA WHOSE TIME HAS COME."**

But, torch extinguished, not a peep was heard

From all the press of Nadia—no word.

How well they knew the rule **Do not add** [rest!]

**Words to a Nadia otherwise ex-pressed**.

At this point __ in time it is essential and necessary that the hard and fast __ rule expressed in the final __ closing lines of the poetic __ verse above be repeated __ again that it might __ possibly be impressed upon each __ and every one for ever __ and always: DO NOT ADD WORDS TO AN IDEA OTHERWISE EXPRESSED. If one __ single word expresses the mental __ thought, and is sufficient __ enough, as well as more __ easier, why use other __ additional words? Since Nadia is now __ at this time a big famous __ celebrity, and never got a chance __ opportunity to speak __ out or write __ down a single __ solitary word in her own rhyme __ verse, leave us let Nadia __ herself write her autobiography __ of her life in her own handwritten __ handwriting: "Ahem. First __ of all, let me say in speaking that I remember __ back, and this is the honest __ truth, that it was fre-e-ezing __ cold in Romania, especially when I was bare __ naked. Yet even though I was a young __ child with no income __ coming in, not a _leu_ of cash __ money, barely the basic __ fundamentals, I had hopes __ and aspirations. I wanted to advance __ forward _,_ ascend __ up in life. __ Fortunately _,_ __ I __ was very lucky __ to be given the once-in-a-lifetime won't-come-again opportunity to enter __ into gymnastics. I dreamed that I _,_ Nadia Comaneci, was a top __ world-class gymnast. Realizing it could be a false __ delusion, and the end __ result failure, still I made future __ plans, hoping for good __ success. I performed before many live __ audiences, ultimately winning every judge's favorable __ approval, getting seven ( _7!_ ) 10s, seven most __ perfect scores. (It is my personal __ opinion, a unanimous __ consensus, that I am in the near __ vicinity of being over and __ above perfect, unique, __ one-of-a-kind.) Having my own __ personal hot __ water heater, and lots __ and lots of boiling hot hot water, I shall cease __ and desist, and bid you a final __ farewell, trusting I am leaving each __ and every small __ tot not over-taut over these over-taught tautologies."

**Avoid overuse of the same word or phrase in close succession**

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_Sentenced to 25 years for fraud and conspiracy, former WorldCom CEO_ ** _Bernie Ebbers_** _, in pen-striped suit, keeps repeating the same words over and over in clothes succession._

"This pen-striped suit, the result of a class-action suit brought about by suitors in pursuit of justice, and packed in a suit-case, doesn't suit me. I'm used to living in a penthouse suite with a kitchen suite, living room suite, and luxurious bedroom suites where I put on longhaired suites for longhaired sweets (the original suite of software), and waited on by a suite of servants. How suite it _was_! In contrast, how solitarily _sour_ is my existence here in solitary playing solitaire with fingers that used to sport diamond solitaires. . . ." 
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212. He Used the Same Words Time and Time Again

Smug, Bernie Ebbers, WorldCom CEO,

Smiled wide to see his tide of fortunes flow:

A flood of swindled _billions_ , his success

Reflected by his million-dolors dress:

The finest threads—with bankrupted employees'

Bucks. Their common thread was, " _Pinstripes._ Boy he's

Some sharp dresser, Ebbers, just the type

For [sobs] _class_ -action suit against his __ stripe!"

Bern wondered, "As I go on to misdeed it,

What more fitting pinstripes will succeed it?"

Bernie's tide soon turned: a flood of tears

Flowed out of him for— _"Twenty-five long years!"_

The prison warder had to crying-tissue

Him for his succeeding prison issue

Pen-striped suit. " _Here_ , Ebbers—your life's clothes."

Sobbed Bernie, " _Over! Over!_ " over those

That flowed, " _Here_ , Ebbers—your life's _close._ " The warder

Had to slap him, issue this stern order:

" **Shun the _'Over!'_ use of** __ [ _his_ express shun]

**The same warder phrase in clothes succession**."

"This pen-striped suit, the result of a class-action suit brought about by suitors in pursuit of justice, and consequently packed in a suit-case, just doesn't suit me," Ebbers wept over and over and over. "I'm used to living in a penthouse suite furnished with a kitchen suite, a living room suite, and numerous bedroom suites where I put on longhaired suites for longhaired sweets (the original suite of software), and being waited on hand and foot by a suite of servants. How suite it _was_! In contrast, how solitarily _sour_ is my existence here in solitary playing solitaire with fingers that used to sport diamond solitaires. The Feds were right on the money in putting their focus right on the money, eventually proving that they were _right_ on the money: the money was going right into my pocket. _'Right on!'_ share-holders rejoiced when I was sentenced to twenty-five years. 'Money is the root of all evil. We must root out the evil moneygrubbers in business—which is why we were rooting for the prosecution. Perhaps this conviction will take root and justice will return to its roots and tear out the evil moneygrubbers—root and branch—leaving them not enough for a root beer let alone a root canal.' As CEO of WorldCom, a company I cooked up, I had the world at my feet, and did myself a world of good by cooking the books (a recipe I got in a Martha Stewart cooking class). World-renowned, I felt like a world-class Worldcom World Wide Web world-beater—until my cooking the books got me, my goose cooked, into a world of trouble. Now here I am in federal prison doing federal time—all because the federal prosecutor elected to make a federal case out of me. The people were fed up, and now I'm fed up (I get fed three times a day)—but I don't get FedEx. Browned off, in a brown study, I'm looking into what brown, in particular brownnosing, can do for me."

**Avoid improprieties in grammatical function**

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**_Richard Pryor_** _jokers hearings at the Improv._

"Foolish! How many timelys I have to reminder you to keep your Pryor-tease in orderly. You buildinged your reputation as a standup comical with improprieties in grammatical function, taking words acceptabled as one part of speech, but unacceptabled as another, then substitutioning one for the other, like verbs for nouns, adjectives for adverbs, et ceterably. You just have to saying, 'Whassup, niggardly?' 'Who you calling a foolish, foolish?' or 'Yo _gramama_ ly!'and everyone within hear laughters likely crazily . . ."
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213. He Teased His Dear Old Gramma to His Woe

Debuting at the Improv, Richard Pryor

Made club owners joyly for the hire:

With each n-word that they came to ear,

The yuk-yuklys all cracked up for the hear.

With tearings down their cheeks, amidst the drown,

They hootered every hecklering putdown;

Noisings were not one wit less dispensered

At each comedying nothing-censored.

Ownings gushered: "Rich, we have to thank

Him all the way to moneying the bank."

But then (" _Damned fooling!_ ") Pryor choiced to comic

On his _Gramma's_ old physiognomic.

Where, before, he had them pocketly,

The yuk-yuklys, for all he knock-itly

His dear old Gramma, as a body, outraged

At "the _disrespectinger!_ " about staged

And storm outed, swore to not return.

And so it was the Improv got its learn:

**Avoiding Improv Pryor teasing Gramma**

**(Tickle function)**. [Joke yo _mama's_ mama!]

"Foolish!" Pryor berated himself. "How many timelys I have to reminder you to keep your Pryor-tease in orderly. You buildinged your reputation as a standup comical with improprieties in grammatical function such as taking words acceptabled as one part of speech, but unacceptabled as another one, and then substitutioning one for the other, like verbs for nouns, adjectives for nouns, adjectives for adverbs, adverbs for adjectives, and vice versaly, et ceterably. 'Poorly Richard's All-man Knock,' as hearings call it, made you justifiable famous. You just have to saying for an openly, 'Who you calling a foolish, foolish?' or 'Yo _mama_ ly!' and everyone within hear laughters likely crazily; then go on saltying your routinely with number profanes, which everyone agreeables is indisputable numerous one for laughings. 'Whassup, niggardly?" you say, then answering yourself with "Who you calling cheaply, foolish?" and pretty sooner everyone's all in hystericals. Another way you're notabled for improprietying in order to joker hearings is to deliberate get your verbs wrongly: 'I says I doesn't like to look at you, you so but uglier.' 'Who'd you came to be callin' a _but_ uglier conjunkshun—which you hadn't ought to had done—foolish?' and hearings are cracking uply. If you're not setting them on fiery (like yourself freebasely cocaineing), you just have to lie some awful bad impropriety word combines on them like 'Beings how honkings and niggardlys . . . ,' and they're all hystericalling in the aisles. But you sorry asininely niggardly, you got to go bringly your _gramma_ tickles into the acting with 'Yo _gramma_ ly!' the causin' of the audiencers in their entirely getting up a stormily out. If you'd be sticking with poorly grammaticals instead of improprietary bringing your dearly old gramma into the act, you'd be knocking hearings deadly stiller."

**Avoid improprieties in meaning**

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_As cruel as he is,_ ** _Vlad the Imp(paler)_** _can't bear to look. Compared to sibling Vlad the Imp(darker), he can't help feeling himself the Imp of Arch- propriety_: _Impish Lite._

"Imp(darker) is _such_ a **mail roll** model. I want to adopt his **manor** of impaling his **pray** on **polls** or **steaks** [ ** _sick_** _!_ ]. I envy the way he **bald** out that **bawled** -headed **balled** man. No **cowered** , he fights his **duals** to the **Finnish**. **** The thought of **dyeing** doesn't **seam** to **phase** him in the **leased**. [enter Imp(darker)] "Salutations, Imp(paler), what's the good word?" "Greetings, **Au gust** (darker). **Excuse** [ **ek-skyoos** ] me for asking, but please **close** [ **clos** ] the door. A cold **wind** [ **whined** ] is coming in the **en trance**, and I **ob ject** to it. . . ."
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214. The Imp of Arch-propriety in Meaning

Romanian laughingstock Vlad the Imp(paler)

Always felt himself an Impish failure

Next to (in his shadow all the starker)

Impish sibling bro, Vlad the Imp(darker).

If Imp(pale) Imp-paled up paler region

Hundreds, Vlad Imp(dark), his darkness legion,

_Thousands_ skewered—pole-lightly? Hardly right,

To which Vlad(paler) paled as Impish Lite,

Which made him look, in inhumanity,

To be the Imp of Arch- _propriety_.

The Impish laughingstock of Transylvania,

Past the pale of wimpness in Romania,

Vlad (the pale), yes, all had long foreseen,

Was destined to go right on being mean,

Yes, average, or less, in skimpishness

Of meanness in his death-pale Impishness;

He, paler, in propriety so white,

Was, next to Vlad (the dark), impaler- _lite_ ;

Vlad (lite) could not, for all his wimpy leaning,

**Shun** sigh] [**Imp proprieties in meaning**.

Pity Vlad the Imp(paler). He was as mean as mean lite could be in his savage meanings, but— _my word_ —his different meanings! He got his _homophones_ , words pronounced the same but different in meaning, origin, and sometimes spelling ( **cite** , **sight** , **site** ), and his _heteronyms_ , words spelled the same but different in pronunciation and meaning ( **sewer** [stinker], **sewer** [stitcher]), mixed up as meanly as the mean barbarian. A whiter shade of pale, he **rote** in his journal: "Imp(darker) is _such_ a **mail roll** model. I so want to adopt his **manor** of impaling his **pray** on **polls** or **steaks** [ ** _sick_** _!_ ]. I so envy the way he **bald** out that **bawled** -headed **balled** man. No **cowered** , he fights his **duals** to the **Finnish**. **** The thought of **dyeing** doesn't **seam** to **phase** him in the **leased**. I **butt** dream of such a mean **feet** of **daring-dew** , and am **odd** by his **metal**. **Knot** once have I ever **mustard** the nerve to **lei waist** to my impaled **retches** the **weigh** he does." [enter Imp(darker)] "Salutations, Imp- (paler), what's the good word?" "Greetings, **Au gust** (darker). **Excuse** [ **ek-skyoos** ] me for asking, but please **close** [ **clos** ] the door. A cold **wind** [ **whined** ] is coming in the **en trance**, and I **ob ject** to it. I was hoping the opportunity to **con verse** with you would soon **pres ent** itself. That's an admirable **wound** [ **wownd** ] you've sustained. I wonder it hasn't made an **in valid**] of you or made you **lame** [ **la- may]**, and caused you to shed many a **tear** [ **tare** ]. This is the third day in a **row** [ **rou** ] you've suffered one. **Whir** [Were] it me, I fear my life should have **des erted** me, or I should have **re signed** [hard **s** ] from it inside a **minute** ( **my- nyoot**). I wish I could follow your Impish **lead** [led], but that is **per fect **dreaming." "Imp(paler), despite your misnomer, and as much as you admire me, I've yet to meet an impaler who comes **close** [hard **s** ] to being as improprietarily **dark** as you in _meaning_."

**Do not use two or more words where one will serve**

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_Two or more_ ** _Joseph Stalin_** _s strongly caution One in so many words._

One replies: "I would appreciate it if you ( _Please_ ) don't exile the One who serves you (me) there! In the event that (If) you do, I am of the opinion (believe) I shall soon perish owing to the fact of (from) perilously low body temperature due to prolonged exposure to cold (hypothermia)." "At this present point in time (Now) you've done it, One! You've got Iosif Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili, aka Stalin, the 'man of steel,' (me) multiloquently periphrasing (doing) it—using two or more words where One will serve: Siberia. . . ."
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215. He Used a _Lot_ of Words Where One Will Serve

March, 1924. With Lenin fallen,

Ruthless "man of steel," dread Joseph Stalin,

Starts his reign of terror in the U.S.

S.R., striking in the heart of Jewess,

Jew, in Russian non-Jew's heart, alike

Cold terror that they next may feel the strike

Of Stalin's hammer/sickle sickly leaving

Them for dead—or worse, bemoaning, grieving,

Hopeless for, in wild hysteria,

Their exiled living death: Siberia.

One (server to Joe in the Politburo),

His compassion for the exiled thorough,

Cautiously says (One serves to advise

Joe Stalin, wisely _not_ to criticize),

"Siberia, Joe. You should tour more often."

His one hope is touring will soften

Up the man of steel's heart. One is told

(Gulp): "Server One, _one_ word, should serve for cold:

SIBERIA [this serves to chill One's nerve].

**Do NOT use 'tour more' words where One will serve**."

"I would appreciate it if you ( _Please_ ) don't exile me there!" One pleaded. "In the event that (If) you do, especially in the first month of the year (January) I am of the opinion (believe) I shall soon perish owing to the fact of (from) perilously low body temperature due to prolonged exposure to cold (hypothermia)." Yes, that's the hard irony in persisting in an existential state of being (living) behind the Iron Curtain, One inwardly sighed: that one who answers to the name of One (One) continually uses a number greater than one but less than three (two) or more words where one does the trick (serves). "At this present point in time (Now) you've done it, One!" Stalin said, banging his fist down on (on) the table. "You've got Iosif Vissarionovich Dzhugashvili, aka Stalin, the 'man of steel,' (me) multiloquently periphrasing (doing) it. It definitely appears to me (I see), and, worse, it strikes my ear as odd (HEAR) that you're a spendthrift of One's tongue (blabbermouth) who's inclined to talk Oneself hoarse (chatter), talk until One's blue in the face (jabber), run on like a mill pond (blabber), and otherwise 'varnish nonsense with the charms of sound' (blather)—superfluously. In consequence of which (So), insofar as (since) you are such a curst hot-air artist (gasbag), in accordance with (by) the power vested in the said totalitarian dictator (me), I am sending you to Siberia for a certain length of time (life) as stated in my diktat under date of (of) December 25. I needn't remind you what this is in regard to (about). At the same time (Also), you will pay a fine in the amount of (of) one dozen dozen (gross) kopeks. You'll be kept alive, barely, on a stale, dry, moldy, rodent-nibbled (communist) baked foodstuff of flour, water, salt, and yeast (bread) on condition that (if) you keep your large-as-all-Russia (BIG) mouth buttoned up at the lip (SHUT)."

**Avoid slang in formal and informal writing**

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_One-eyed film director_ ** _Frit Slang_** _describing the film noir that got away._

" **Man** , what a **bummer**. Here I am in **Tinsel Town** , **aka** **La-La Land** , in a **dicey** **situation** for being **blackballed**. So **natch** I'm in a **blue funk**. I came here thinking to **cut a deal** with some **bigwig** studio **veep** __ in this **gonzo** **neck of the woods**. I **burned the midnight oil** , **knocked out** a screenplay, and **shlepped** it around to **head honcho** studio **moguls** , **xeroxes** , **cloneheads** , who gave me the **same old same old run-around** : " **Let's do lunch**. I'll have my **flakey desk jockey** call your **jive-talkin'** **coffee floozie** . . ." 
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216. The Heads Conspired: Avoid the Use of Slang

Frit Slang, mad Austrian **film noir** director,

Who, for Hitler's madness, turned defector,

_Ran_ , not walked, by way of gai Paree,

To sway America, land of the free,

By weigh of film, the sum of Hitler's madness:

Some? Show _all_ of Hitler's racist _badness_ ,

Cry his genocidal mad ambition

To the world, make this his **film noir** mission:

Show the **blackness** of it, throw film light

Upon it, get the **blackness** of it right

—Inform the world! Arrived in Hollywood,

Slang vowed to put in every neighborhood

Mall theater a documentary

That documented the dementary

Ambitions of the madman. But not one

Film studio (they **blackballed** Frit, each one)

Would back it: "No dice, Frit! Though Hitler's 'sect'sy,

Where's the violence for multiplex-see?

Sum? Film never." **Shun** [killed, **film noir** lighting]

**Slang in form-mall and inform-all righting**.

"Oh, **man** , what a **bummer** ," Slang **bellyached**. "Here I am in **Tinsel Town** , a suburb of **La-La Land** , in a **dicey** **situation** for being **blackballed**. So **natch** I'm in a **blue funk**. I came here thinking to **cut a deal** with some **bigwig** studio **veep** __ in this **gonzo** **neck of the woods** , make a few **flicks** , maybe not **blockbusters** but enough to make __ me **a ballpark figure quick buck** , be able to **spring for** some, if not **Nob Hill digs** , **hole-in-the-wall** on the **wrong side of the tracks** that doesn't cost me **an arm and a leg** ; a __**pad** __ to **crash** __ in between scenes, and at day's end, having viewed the **rushes** and gotten a few **in the can** , **catch me some z's** ; then get **dressed to kill** in my **hunkiest** **five o'clock shadow** , **make the scene** , **put the moves on** some **movie mo' gal** or **gnarly Valley girl** , or **shmooze** me some **beach blanket bimbo** I've __**got** __**eyes for** , **make a little music**. Who knows, I could even **fall head over heels** , **pop the question** (if I don't get **cold feet** ), **tie the knot** _,_ have me a **baby boomer** or two, and settle into being the head **couch potato** of a **nuke clan** living **high on the hog—24/7/365**. What a Slang film noir that would make! A **flaming** __**potboiler**. And after the **flick's** **played in Peoria** , and I've **had it up to here** with being a **flippin' doormat** (when not in __**the doghouse** ), I could re-release it as a **_''S enough!'_ film.** **Hot dog!** It's practically writing itself in my **noggin**." So **good old** Frit **burned the midnight oil** , **knocked out** a screenplay, and **shlepped** it around to **head honcho** studio **suits/moguls** who, **xeroxes** , **cloneheads** , gave him the **same old same old run-around** : " **Let's do lunch**. I'll have my **flakey desk jockey** call your **jive-talkin'** **coffee floozie** ," your **everyday garden variety** Hollywood **song and dance** for "Slang, it's been good to know ya! or, to **tell it like it is** , **straight scoop** it in **black and white** , __**'Film _nowhere_** _._ **'** __ "

**Use sanctioned idiomatic expressions**

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_Despite the smile among his face, _**_Zorba the Greek_** _is terribly blue._

"What, you're angry **at** me because my blue streak is adverse **against** , goes **across** the grain of sanctioned Greek idiom? Because I don't go **alongside** the flow it's a bone **about** contention with you, so you've got a bone to pick **at** me? Because I don't do things **like** the book, you (as if you'd gotten **off of** __ the wrong side **in** the bed) get **above** __ your soapbox and **into** your high horse and proceed to make a mountain **from** __ a molehill and fly **off of** the handle to blow **out** steam? All of which makes you fed **off** with me . . ."
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217. My God, That Greek's Expessions Were _So_ Blue

_Ai!_ Zorba— _curse_ that Greek! So symptomatic

Was his speech of Greek one heard pure Attic:

Each Hellenic idiom he'd speak,

Each hearer _heard_ that Zorba was all Greek,

And _colorful_ —oh, most, in his expression,

Largely blue for lack of all discretion.

Pure Greek, Zorba prided himself _very_

Much for his immense vocabulary

Of pure Attic idiom; no few

Were those he knew of solely Attic blue.

One day upon a Greek isle (Cyclades)

Surrounded by Aegean's bluest seas,

Old Zorba, in the midst of cussing, he,

A blue streak, was at loss for one of the

[Curse!] bluest idioms he knew'd be so,

For this occasion, bluely apropos.

He rummaged round up attic, found— _eureka!_ —

Bluest! Red-eared Greeks, ticked off, cried, "Speak a

_True_ -blue Greek; **Use** —no _blue_ indiscretions—

**_Sanctioned_ idiom-attic— _all_ —expressions**!"

Zorba was blue; and nowhere was he more blue than in his unidiom-Attic prepositions. Scandalized Greeks cried out, "You have the bluest ones in all Greece—and aren't we ticked! We _are_ —and sanction you for it in the strongest possible terms." But did Zorba care that they were ticked, their ears red? _Hellas no!_ He blue them off, pre-positioning himself to make them all _see_ red: "What, you're angry **at** me because my blue streak is adverse **against** , goes **across** the grain of sanctioned Greek idiom? I see. Because I don't go **alongside** the flow it's a bone **about** contention with you, so you've got a bone to pick **at** me? Because I don't do things **like** the book, you (as if you'd gotten **off of** __ the wrong side **in** the bed) get **above** __ your soapbox and **into** your high horse and proceed to make a mountain **from** __ a molehill and fly **off of** the handle to blow **out** steam? Instead of letting my off-color **below-** the-pale remarks go **inside** one ear and **through** the other, you take the bull **around** the horns and, muttering a few choice words **underneath** your breath **off** the tip **on** your tongue, you get **inside** my face, as much as to say I've violated local blue laws and am therefore **upon** the creek **excepting** a paddle, thus dead **upon** the water—all of which makes you fed **off** with me and blue as can be, so you hang me **off** to dry? Yes, I see. Well, as they're fond **about** saying **among** the blue Aegean, 'May the blueword of happiness fly **down** your nose.' " And there Zorba left **up** , leaving red-eared Greeks more scandalized than ever for seeing the writing **across** the wall (he'd written them an open graffito): " **At** whom it may concern: Gluttons **about** punishment, you can't say I didn't give you full Blue Book value **per** your money." Which only made the Atticked-off red-eared Greeks' ears all the redder for their having been made read-eared Greeks as well.

**Avoid euphemisms in all writing**

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_The_ ** _Divine Ms. M_** _is all emotion at Mr. Rite's proposal to share conjugal relations._

"What a _b-word_ she __ is," Mr. Rite _tinkled_ and moaned. "She told me to go to _h-e-double toothpicks_. __ I was feeling _amorous_ . . ." "Feh! what a _willie winky_ Mr. Wrong was to ask me to _get intimate_ with him. I divined his _partnering_ intentions from the start. He thought, by promising me a _3-sleep-chamber/2.5-powder-room_ home, to _lie down_ , share in _congress_ with me _out of wedlock._ What would he care if he got me in an _apron-high_ way and _the stork_ blessed us with a _love child_ —or more? And him _'between jobs'_ . . ."
**  
**

218. His Riting Couldn't Use One Euphemism

(Sigh) Mr. Rite saw the Divine Ms. M

As quite _the_ most divine unmarried fem

He'd ever seen. "The 'Ms.,' yes, says it all:

Ms. M is an _un_ married living doll!

And I am eager to be marriage-rited;

More, to have my eagerness requited

By Ms. M. _Divine_ unmarried u-fem,

Surely she'll be _Mrs._ Rite 'I do' fem!

He asked, "Will you," on his bended knee,

'I do' the rite thing by—and _marry_ —me?"

Said Bette, "Look, Mr. _Wrong_ , that's how you've got me:

Wrong!—you're way too late to tie-the-knot me.

I'm, for Better/worse, Divine Ms. _Married_ ;

_Can't_ be Bette R _._ , 'cross-your-threshold carried."

Cried he, "Ms. M, your Ms.leading sign,

Has _Mrs. Wrong_ ly duped me! 'the Divine

Ms. M' is—FRAUD!—a _euphemism_ yet

For—oh! a _married_ broad—one Midler, Bette!"

Thus "Mr. Wrong" was taught: **Avoid** [uniting]

**Using u-fem Ms. M's in your riteing**.

"What a _b-word_ she __ is," Mr. Rite _tinkled_ and moaned. "The Divine Ms. M. so much as told me to go to _h-e-double toothpicks_. __ I was feeling _amorous_ , but rather than patronize a _bunny ranch_ , engage the services of a _therapist_ at a _massage parlor_ , or offer a gratuity to _a lady of the evening_ for certain _favors_ , I sought a _companion_ , yet something more than a _significant other_ : __ a _permanent sleep partner_. So I offer to make an _honest woman_ of Ms. M. I'm prepared to _go all the way_ , to have _conjugal relations_ with her to _consummate_ the marriage—even though I suspect (she once worked in a _house of joy_ in Hawaii) she is not _unspoiled_ ; that she's _done it_ , _surrendered her maidenhood_ , and, having been _test-driven_ , like my _previously-owned vehicle_ , is _damaged goods_. But does she admit she _does it_ with a frank 'I _do_ '? _In the negative_. She _advises_ me to _'Flake off!'_ " "Feh! what a _willie winky_ that Mr. Wrong was to ask me to _get intimate_ with him," Ms. M kvetched indignantly. "I divined his _partnering_ intentions from the start. He thought, by promising me a _3-sleep-chamber/2.5-powder-room_ home, to _lie down_ , share in _congress_ with me _out of wedlock._ What would he care if he got me in an _apron-high way_ and _the stork_ blessed us with a _love child_ —or more? And all along he's, in his own words, _'between jobs.'_ I could just see it: a constant _negative surplus_ of _funds_ would result in our not being able to _meet our financial obligations._ The _accounts payables_ we'd be _growing_ would bring about _service interruptions._ Our children would be not merely _underprivileged_ but _disadvantaged,_ to say nothing of, for his being a real _rocket scientist,_ _mentally challenged_ , thus requiring _special education_ , leading to our having _marital issues_ , _extramarital affairs_ —and _social_ diseases—on into our _golden years_. Oooooh, I'm so _tinkled off_ I could just _expectorate_."

**Avoid using illiterate words and phrases**

****

** **

****

**_Captain Queeg_** _is having a rough day aboard the USS Caine: first, his strawberries go missing, then he loses his marbles._

"Youse gobs is all tetched in the head if'n you cain't hardly see that some varmint with a duplecate key snuck into the larder and stoled the quart of missin' strorberries, and brung 'em away, and plum et the whole works hisself, and I was like to have drownded the culprit, or strangulated the latters if'n I could've clenched my hands 'round his neck like I was a-clenchin' my worryin' marbles. . . ." The court soon reached a verdict: "We find the defendant not guilty by reason of insanity—but guilty as sin of _inurbanity_ . . ."
**  
**

219. His Berries Gone, the Captain Lost His Marbles

Aboard the USS Caine, Captain Queeg,

Sore, clenched, reclenched his hand for the intrigue:

The quart of missing _fraises_ (they were French

Strawberries)—gone!—that now would never quench.

His hand clenched on his worry-marbles. He:

"Yes, someone's got a _duplicate_ [clench] key

To [clench] the ward room icebox. The exist-

ence of it I have proved [hard-clenching fist]

With inferential logic [here he garbles],

"Yes, my _mouth_ —you think I've lost my marbles

[Crew relieves him of command]—but _see_ ,

They're _right here_ in my hand. This mutiny

Will not [clench] go unpunished. No, a court

[Clench] martial will—you'll see—I'll prove the quart

Of missing _fraises_ (French)—I iterate

Once more: 'a _duplicate_ key' [clench]—you wait!"

In court they saw: he'd lost them, totally;

That he was berry ill, sick mentally.

The moral Queeg saw not in his malaise is:

**Shun use of ill-iterate words, fraises**.

Just _how_ ill Captain Queeg was soon became obvious. As the court martial got underway it was clear the defendant was sinking further and further into madness, raving on and on about the quart of missing fraises and someone's having a duplicate key. If everyone was soon sick to death of hearing about the quart of missing strawberries, it was nothing at all compared to how sick they became for hearing _ad nauseam_ the illiterate vulgarisms and barbarisms Queeg maniacally resorted to in his ever madder defense: "Youse gobs is all tetched in the head," he raved on, "if'n you cain't hardly see that some varmint with a duplecate key snuck into the larder and stoled the quart of missin' strorberries, and brung 'em away, and plum et the whole works hisself. I'd done boughten 'em in the last porticle myself, which ain't a thing I'd easily disremember. And I know I ain't mistakened nohow about I was puttin' 'em in the icebox where t'other vittles was kepted, where they'd be excessible whenever I had a hanker on. But come to it, they weren't nowheres to be seen, irregardless of how many times I looked out for 'em in the same spot. Some lowdown filcherer'd done more'n borry my Frenchy-fied fraises—he'd felonerously disfurnished me of 'em, and I was purty near 'bout flustrated not to mention savagerous and was like to have drownded the culprit, or strangulated the latters if'n I could've clenched my hands 'round his neck like I was a-clenchin' my worryin' marbles." It didn't take the court long to reach a verdict: "No one with all his marbles would even _think_ of using such illiterate words and fraises. We find the defendant not guilty by reason of insanity—but guilty as sin by reason of _inurbanity_. __ But what's the use? What aptly inhumane sentence could we possibly mete out to match the least o' his'n for cruel and unusual punishment?"

**Avoid the overuse of foreign words**

** **

****

**_Errol Flynn_** _as Robin Hood is sure his arrow, rather than going amiss, will surely beget him a miss._

"Ah, _gut!_ Here comes a lovely _ingénue_. Some few foreign words shot her way will surely 'miss' their mark. " _Bonjour, ma chère amie._ I'm a _homo sapiens_ whose _raison d'être,_ something of an _idée fixe_ with me, is to _cherchez la femme. Ma belle petite amante,_ you are the _crême de la crême_ , _la belleza idéal,_ the _ne plus ultra,_ and the _sine qua non. Voulez-vous aimer avec moi?_ What do you say, my divine _rara avis_? I'm renowned for having a certain _savoir-faire_ —and _tempus fugit_! After all, _omnia vincit amor_. . . ."
**  
**

220. His Foreign "In Like Flynn" Words Did Him In

Swashbuckler, dashing ladies' man, Don Juan,

Heartbreaker, Casanova, girl turn-on,

Tasmanian-born devil, he was in

With each one as though he were Errol Flynn,

Which Robin Hooding beau he was, whose dart

(Just like an Errol) went straight to her heart.

A look, a smile, a word from out the quiver,

Shot from beau, would straightway send a shiver

Through the quarry, and beget a sigh,

And from both beau and Errol straight would fly,

"I'm in like Flynn! I'm in like Flynn! I'm _in_

Like Flynn! . . . ," and, with each, Beau and Errol Flynn

Would quiver soul deep, and go on repeating

Those four "in" words. _Oh!_ but heart of sweet teen,

Whose as-yet-a-child attention span

Was soon _beau_ red with this beau-and-Errol man,

Fast shot him down—end of seductive story:

Beau and Errol missed their amatory

Mark. The moral? With such _"Beaur-r-r-ring"_ birds,

**Avoid the overuse of four "in" words**.

"Missed!" Flynn sighed upon losing another. "My four 'in' words did me in—without doing me 'in.' Wait! That inspires in me a brilliant four 'in' idea: using foreign words. _Naturellement!_ Rather than going amiss, they'll surely beget me a miss! Ah, _gut!_ Here comes a lovely _ingénue_ now. Some few foreign words shot her way will surely 'miss' their mark. " _Bonjour, ma chère amie._ I'm a true _homo sapiens_ whose entire _raison d'être,_ something of an _idée fixe_ with me, is to _cherchez la femme._ You could say I am an _exalté_. Like my _eau de cologne_? _Ma belle petite amante,_ what do you say _tu et moi_ _carpe diem_ and have ourselves a little _liaison_ , an _affaire d'amour—_ if not _de coeur_? _Ma chèrie_ , you are the _crême de la crême_ , _la belleza idéal,_ the _ne plus ultra,_ and the _sine qua non._ Truly you have an _embarras de richesses_ and a certain _je ne sais quoi._ My _modus operandi_ is to ask, straight out, _Voulez-vous aimer avec moi?_ After all, it is _l'usage du monde_ , _n'est-ce pas?_ and quite _de rigeur_. What do you say my divine _rara avis_? I'm renowned for having a certain _savoir-faire_ —and _tempus fugit_! __ We'd meet _in camera_ , naturally, _vis-à-vis_ , _à la française_ , and our _amour_ _à discrétion_ would be strictly _inter nos_. Anything less would be a _faux pas_. Suspected, we'd both conspire to cover up the _nudas veritas_ with a great big _suppressio veri._ I would be _semper fidelis_ — _non!_ Oh, but caught _flagrante delicto ('Veni, vidi, vici')_ , I, _persona non grata_ , would, _ex post facto_ , utter my _'Mea culpa,'_ you your _'Peccavi,'_ and soon, these proving to be an effective _argumentum ad populum_ , all would be forgiven. After all, _omnia vincit amor_. So _dum vivamus, vivamus._ If not, _cui bono_?" " _Noli me tangere!_ Or in other foreign 'Don't touch me!' words, _Satis verborum alienus!_ Don't overuse ('miss'use) foreign words. So _au revoir, arrividerci, ciao—sighin' Errol!_ "

**Avoid the use of poetic words in prose**

****

** **

****

_Poor tragic_ ** _Edgar Allan Poe_** _:_

_He waxed poetic—to his woe._

"I've been working on a macabre tale in prose since sunup, and two or three wet ones down, and I want to get your opinion. Mind you, it's only a first draft. Harken: 'Aurora ariseth like unto the golden phoenix, before whose easterly effulgence the pale moon paleth yet more and retireth for shame. The ethereal philomel in yon craggéd yew singeth in the day, and all the sylvan wood awakeneth, wherein waxeth joyous the linnet in the dell, where of late the hoar frost was over all.' Well? What do you think? _Wait!_ . . ."
**  
**

221. She Entered, Heard Poetic Prose, and Vanished

It's not surprising Edgar Allan Poe's

First urge was writing poetry, not prose.

And so he wrote _To Helen_ , to _Lenore_ ,

To _Annabel Lee_ , _Al Aaraaf—_ oh, more:

_To Margaret_ , _Fannie_ , and to _Eulalie_ ,

_The Bells_ , _The Raven_ , and _Ulalume_ ,

To _Tamerlane_ , and to _A Valentine_ ,

_To One in Paradise_ , _Evangeline_ ,

And _To My Mother_ , _To Marie Louise_ ,

_Romance_. Romance __ poured out to all of these,

His words were so poetic. Yet Poe chose

To whet his horror-story muse, try prose,

Tick one more writing box. Ticked critics billed

_The Murders in the Rue Morgue,_ which he filled

With lush words, " _Drunken_ syrupy-word gusher!"

"Sweet!" was his _Fall of the House of Usher_

From fright grace. "The saccharine-sweet _pits_

Is _The Pit and the Pendulum_!" __ for its

Lush treatment. Horrors! Poe learned gushing those

**Avoid use of Poe-whet-tick words in prose**.

"Oh, Lenore, I'm so glad you're here!" Poe enthused on her passing through his chamber door. "I've been working on a tale in prose since sunup, and two or three wet ones down, and I want your opinion. Mind you, it's only a first draft (it came in at the open shutter with the raven), but I think _Forsooth, 'Tis Betimes Mine Own Masque of Ye Affrighting Red Death—Alas and Alack!—That Causeth Many a Churl and Vassal to Beweep and Bemoan Himself, Verily_ (working title) is going to be my most macabre tale yet. Harken: 'Ye dulcet "Red Death" had long devastated the country whither it dwelt, from whither now Aurora ariseth like unto the golden phoenix, before whose easterly effulgence the pale moon paleth yet more and retireth for shame. No pestilence had durst be so fatal, or, faith, so hideous. Blood was its Avatar; the redness and the horror of blood that floweth even as nectar unto the gods attended by the chaste cherubim of Heaven. Anon there were wondrous sharp pains— _ai_ _me! AI!_ —thence sudden dizziness and profuse bleeding from the pores, with wanton dissolution—and with nary, for dearth of apothecary's alchemy, a blissful balm to my bosom. But hark! The ethereal philomel in yon craggéd yew singeth in the day, and all the sylvan wood awakeneth, wherein waxeth joyous the linnet in the dell where of late the hoar frost was over all.' Well, what do you think?" But Lenore only turned on her airy heel, passing through the closed door as she came, a ghost, yet a lot more quickly. "I don't get it." Poe agonized, glancing up at the raven perched on Pallas's bust over the chamber door. "She liked poetry in Poe's." [the raven takes wing, hastening to leave as it came] "No, wait! At least tell me when Lenore, when _you_ will return to hear my horror story's most blood-curdling poetic ending?" Quoth the raven, "Nevermore!"

**Use neologisms sparingly and only where appropriate**

****

** **

****

_As usual,_ ** _Neolo Donnell_** _has to run the ball himself._

"In a huddle I'll say something like, ' **Forsev** [ **for** ty- **sev** en] the **wire** [ **wi** de **re** ceiver] is no **fumbum** [ **fum** ble **bum** pkin] so I'm going to **rolex** [ **ro** ll **le** ft e **x** pertly] and toss him the **lobo** [ **lo** ng **bo** mb] for a **todo** [ **to** uch **do** wn].' No one will have the **fogi** [ **fog** giest **i** dea] what I'm **tabo** [ **t** alking **abo** ut], but hey, if it **caday** s [ **ca** rries __ the **day** ]. . . . Or I'll totally dumbfound them with acronyms: 'get ready for a **DOOZIE** [ **d** eeply **o** ptimistic **o** pposition- **z** one **i** ntercepted **e** rror] of a **FOPAS** [ **f** orward **o** veroptimistic **p** ass **a** nd **s** nafu].' . . ." 
**  
**

222. He Coined New Words and Got "Neolo— _Jeez!_ "

He made _some_ coin throughout his 13-year-

long quarterbacking NFL career.

And how they grumbled, they, his huddling "heards,"

That he, Neolo Donnell, made up words

To suit himself: " _Hup_ one, _hut_ two, _huk_ three"

Were but the tip of his word coinery.

He never used the same word twice. It worked:

His team was just as in the dark—and irked—

As the opposing team, oh quite the same,

With this effect: they never won one game.

Of course the Pittsburgh Steelers let him go,

No player being in "the play"ing know;

The New York Jets got rid of him as quick,

Regretting of their quarterbacking pick;

The Cincinnati Bengals cut him loose

("And take your damned word-coinery abuse!");

The Titans (Tennessee) appropriated

Him as spare. They thought to (and were fated)

**Use Neologisms sparingly,**

**And only where appropriate**. Not he.

To his every team's huddling despair, Neolo (knee- **all** -oh) had any number of methods of coining new words. One of his favorites was portmanteau words. "Since a portmanteau packs two or more words into one, just as an NFL player packs two or more steroids into an identically named suitcase, allowing him to carry more muscle, so a portmanteau word will surely carry my message—thus the ball across the goal line—and ultimately the day. So I'll say something like, ' **Forsev** [ **for** ty- **sev** en] the **wire** [ **wi** de **re** ceiver] is no **fumbum** [ **fum** ble **bum** pkin] so I'm going to **rolex** [ **ro** ll **le** ft e **x** pertly] and toss him the **lobo** [ **lo** ng **bo** mb] for a **todo** [ **to** uch **do** wn].' Not one of my players will have the **fogi** [ **fog** giest **i** dea] what I'm **tabo** [ **t** alking **abo** ut], but hey, if it **caday** s [ **ca** rries __ the **day** ] . . . . Course I could just as easily trip them up with acronyms: 'Meet me at the **LOS** [ **l** ine **o** f **s** crimmage] and get ready for a **DOOZIE** [ **d** eeply **o** ptimistic **o** pposition- **z** one **i** ntercepted **e** rror] of a **FOPAS** [ **f** orward **o** veroptimistic **p** ass **a** nd **s** nafu].' Then again, I might make something up out of the clear blue such as ' **Ibbledyflagit** ' or ' **Fasculambulum.** ' But my very favorite method of generating me some bigtime coin is to set one or more plays in motion with the play on words. I'll never forget, and I'm sure my teammates won't either, the time there was just enough room to run the ball down the sideline if the offensive tackles blitzed and wiped out defensive end Sammy Kreeg. I called **'Ballroom blitzKreeg!'** —and what'd they do? They all just stood there with the sickest looks on their faces and groaned—and so did I, only I wasn't _standing_ when 340-lb defensive lineman Sadistik Frateano (who trains like a madman) roared through my defensive line like a **Fratetrain** and I yelled out (too late) **'Sad-sack!'** Interested managers can reach me at my flat in New-Word, New Jersey."

**Use words or phrases that paint a picture**

****

** **

****

_French film star Brigitte Bardot gives an appreciative_ ** _Pablo Picasso_** _a couple of pointers on how to effectively paint a picture with words._

"Chérie, my Blue Period lasted _three full years_. But after I painted your nose on the side of your face, and captured the cubistic loveliness of your glabrescent ivory bosom, putting it where your tearfully turquoise teaspoons of the Mediterranean should be, the blue streak you swore _(Indigo trés indigné)_ , and which you've been swearing ever since, paints much the bluest picture of me, making my Blue Period pale in comparison. Chérie, you've taught me to use _words or phrases_ to paint a picture! I'm through with oils . . ." 
**  
**

223. She Taught Him to Use Words to Paint a Picture

Picasso, who'd a reputation for

Nude _femmes_ upon the canvas (and much more),

Was, in his period of first cubism,

Given to a strange eroticism:

Painting _les femmes_ with such gross distortion,

Faces, figures in such "miss"proportion,

Whispers went round: "She looks like she's kissed

Some cubist—on the side." _"Misogynist!"_

"Imagine! painting every one so odd all

Over." Not surprising that each model

Got the more bent out of shape. One swore

A blue streak upon seeing (she was _sore_ )

"My eye—upon zee _side_ of my head—too,

My nose eez over _there_ —my mouth _askew_!"

Picasso saw, "What's my Blue Period

When she, _each minute_ , has a myriad?

I'm done with canvas, oils! Yes, this will be

My Bluer-Than-Blue Period—I see!

**Use word-sore phrases** —streaks of _bluest_ blue—

**That paint a picture**. Each as priceless too!"

When the blasphemous blue streak she was swearing had decolorized from _purple rage_ _aux livide_ to relatively subdued _indigo trés indigné_ ," Pablo Picasso felt it not entirely life-threatening to venture a few words or phrases of his own: " _I_ had a Blue Period once. It started the very moment I arrived, aged nineteen, in _belle époque_ blue Paree in 1901, and lasted through the last cerulean days of 1904 when I emerged from my gentian-blue funk in order to begin my petal-soft Rose Period. This lasted through the final fading roseate pastels of 1908. First thing 1909 I began my geometrically challenged Analytical Cubism Period, which brings us, chérie, to the present. But though I've been _arrondissement_ the cubist block a time or two, I'm no square; rather more along the lines of your _toujours_ _Gai Pareesien_ parallelogram, with angular undertones of Rhodesian rhomboid. Chérie, I owe you _la immortalité_ for showing me the colorful art of using words or phrases, which connotatively suggest far more than they denotatively say, to paint a picture, embarking me on my everyone's-green-with-envy Wealth and Fame Period. Oui, what oils, be they ever so oleaginously iridescent as a massive wildlife-choking oil spill on pristine glacial waters, could ever have captured the cubistic loveliness of your glabrescent ivory bosom, even if I did put it where your tearfully turquoise teaspoons of the Mediterranean should be. But, _naturellement_ , one mustn't overd—" "Non, one _mustn't_ , because peecture zees: a peach-faced _ingénue_ sits for _un_ _portrait_ by a 'promising' cubist. And what does zees master cubing heel do? He—he—he— _non_ , I'm _NOT_ laughing—he paints my eye—on ze _side_ of my face—ze 'better' zhat I might cast an eye _jaunisse_ upon my cockeyed peecture as I paint one of heem with colorful word-sore phrases: _Imbécile! Crétin! Blochead! . . ."_

**Avoid clichés like the plague**

****

** **

****

**_John Cleese_** _leaves Monty Python in a shay; but what kind of shay is it, exactly?_

"That really gets my goat and makes me do a slow burn, but the smart money says if I keep my ear to the ground, my nose to the grindstone, my shoulder to the squeaky wheel that gets the grease, and, last but not least, put my best foot forward and start from scratch as quick as a bunny, in a month of Sundays this will all be behind me and seem like a bad dream. But I'm not going to beat around the bush; it won't be a walk in the park (I never promised myself a rose garden). I'll have to work like a dog. But, no guts, no glory . . . " 
**  
**

224. Clichés? Don't Touch Them with a Ten-foot Pole

John Cleese left Monty Python in this way:

In something not unlike a one-hoss shay.

To put it bluntly, it was but a _hackney_.

Old? Try twice as old as adult acne.

Soon a loud debate broke out. Its cause?

Just _what_ kind of a bleedin' shay it was.

"Look, it's an _attaché_ —he's stuck on it."

"No, _ricochet_ —he's bounced round like a twit."

"Man, knit's a pearl—a bleedin' old _crochet_."

"He's thrust a blow for freedom—a _Touché!_ "

" _Recherché_ —Cleese is searching for his youth."

"No— _paper mache_ 's closer to the truth."

"Gor, papers 'e's got for it? That's _cachet._ "

"No, look, 'e struts and flounces—a _sashay_."

" _Sachet_ —the thing's so old it smells—a fright."

" _Couché_ —Haw! Cleese turned right in for the night."

"Turned left (one 'Haw!'s left)—it's a bloomin' _Ché_

_Guevera._ " "It's a _Ché_ d too left, I'd say."

In Haw!ing left, John learned: **Avoid Cleese shays**

[And that goes double for "one 'Haw!'s" Cleese shays].

"That really gets my goat," Cleese smouldered, doing a slow burn. "But there's no sense flogging a dead Haw!s that's got one foot in the grave. Leastways I'm not on the _wagon_ , much less the bandwagon, and the smart money says that if I'll just put the cart before the Haw!s, keep my ear to the ground, my nose to the grindstone, my shoulder to the squeaky wheel that gets the grease, and, last but not least, put my best foot forward and start from scratch as quick as a bunny, soon, though it may take a month of Sundays, this will all be behind me and seem like a bad dream. Yes, forgive and forget, that's the ticket. But I'm not going to beat around the bush; it won't be a walk in the park (I never promised myself a rose garden). I'll have to work like a dog. But, blimey, no guts, no glory. And the word on the street is you reap what you sow (if nothing goes against the grain). Then I'll lead my Haw!s of a different collar to water and make him drink (you are what you eat, they say), which, unless I miss my guess, will make him go like a race Haw!s; then I'll really clean up (cleanliness is next to godliness). But what the hay. A new broom sweeps clean, though it's safe to say (there's no getting around it) nowhere near as clean as a whistle—a very real concern I view with alarm. Even so, all will not be lost: I'll be older and wiser. If nothing else, it'll be a moving experience, and at the end of the day, when all is said and done and everything's in apple-pie order, hopefully, knock on wood, I'll then breathe a sigh of relief. I know, I could avoid clichés like the plague along life's highway, but, in the final analysis, I'd have bought into, cozied up to numero uno, the worst of the worst: _Avoid clichés like the plague._ Ah, but a _one-Haw!s_ _Cleese shay_ is something else again. I say, old chap, did I ever tell you about the time I 'bought it'? It was a dark and stormy night . . ."

**Use colloquialisms appropriately and effectively**

****

** **

****

_In a splash of inspiration, young_ ** _Alexander Graham Bell_** _spills battery acid on his pants and hastens to tell a surprised Thomas Watson, his assistant in the adjoining room, via his newly invented wall-a-phone, ingeniously inventing the tell-a-phone in the process._

"How do, Abe? Ma Cell comin' at ya with a collect colloquial call." "Holy ol' liftin' dyin' bald-headed Jaysus! Howard she goin', Ma?" "Hunky-dory. Say, Abe, how is yer callin' a spud up there to New Brunswick?" "Jeezum-crow, you are some honkin' ignernt, Ma. I'd no idear. Well, it's a Geehover _b'dayduh_ , __ ain't-she-wah? You must be purtineer rightoutaver. Say'd I ever tell yahs . . ." Ma Cell let Abe go right on colloquializing, happy as Cell to be collecting by the minute.
**  
**

225. He Sold Them on Colloquial Expressions

"Hell—" _"Mr. Watson,"_ Alexander Graham

Bell sang, _"come, I want you."_ It was mayhem

After that, for Bell had just invented

[Ring!] the telephone. Soon each one rented

One from him, began the endless chatter

Back and forth of things that do not matter.

"Whee! what fun!" two callers who'd not seen

Each other for a "long" short time between

Themselves would wag their tongues call-locally

And chew the fat in, what else? _call-loc_ quy.

Bell schemed to have them beat their gums long distance.

They called on call _"loss!"_ al spend resistance.

"Fine!" thought Alexander Graham Bell.

"I'll reinvent myself—as Graham _Cell_ ,

Sell callers on it, charging for each minute

—Local ones as well—whee! big bucks in it.

My line? _Whee! thank you_ _for using Cell_

_Tel®._ Feel 'free' anytime to ring the bell

To **Use call-loc- _whee!—all_ expressions**— _Whee!_

**Appropriately and effectively**."

Bell was hooked: his giving Watson the world's first jingle had turned him into a phone junkie. He knew he was wired when he couldn't wait to get him on the horn again. He furiously turned the crank (the handle, not himself) and listened as it rang on Watson's end. "Come on, come on, pick up, _pick up!_ " Bell muttered with the patience of an addict waiting on tenterhooks for his fix. Finally: "Hello?" " _Watson_ , Bell here." "Hey, Alex, what's shakin'?" "Me, but it's kicking in—here comes the rush. Anyway, I just thought I'd give you a buzz, get you on the line, touch base with you." "It's your nickel." "The _hell_ it is. I'm Ma Bell, remember? It ain't costin' me a red cent let alone a plug nickel. Well, that's the latest buzz, I guess I'll ring off." "Talk at ya later." It was tough coming down, especially doing it cold turkey, and Bell had the heebie-jeebies. He knew that he'd never kick the habit. "I've j-j-j-just _gotta_ reach out and touch someone," he said, his hand shaking, "on my new Ma Cell®." So he got out his little black book, let his fingers do the walking, and made a collect colloquial call. "How do, Abe?" he sang out when his friend up to New Brunswick answered the Ma Cell® Bell'd sent him, "Ma Cell comin' at ya." "Holy ol' liftin' dyin' bald-headed Jaysus! Howard she goin', Ma?" "Hunky-dory. Say, Abe, how is yer callin' a spud up there?" "Jeezum-crow, you are some honkin' ignernt, Ma. I'd no idear. Well, it's a Geehover _b'dayduh_ , __ ain't-she-wah? You must be purtineer rightoutaver. Say'd I ever tell yahs . . . ." And Ma Cell was only too happy to let Abe go right on colloquializing on his "free" Ma Cell®. Ma didn't cotton on to his colloquy, but _holy ol' liftin' dyin' sweet bald-headed Jaysus!_ Cell Tel® was collecting by the _minute_ —and in Ma Cell's books that was using colloquialisms most effectively and appropriately.

**Vary the position of _she said_ phrases**

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**_Adam Clayton Vowel_** _is at a loss for words without consonants._

" 'And don't forget,' she said, 'to pick up the fig leaves from the long-tongued aardvark.' O God, I wanted to say, 'At least the aardvark has _got_ a tongue!' " _What did you say?_ "I said, 'A . . . ,' but that's as far as I got. As you know, she was a Consonant who married a Vowel, becoming Eve Consonant-Vowel, so she's able to make _no end_ of words; but all I can say is 'I . . .' 'A . . .' 'O . . .' or rarely 'Oy—' _What did I tell you?_ "O God Almighty, it's a good thing I don't need consonants to talk to you, only blind avowal. . . ."
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226. He Never Varied in His "She Said" Phrases

"Just _a, e, i, o, u,_ and sometimes _y_ ,

God, thanks," was Adam Clayton Vowel's cry

When God was handing out the letters. "They

Are all I need for all I have to say

For Adam Clayton Vowel—naught more, God."

_All vowels—and no **consonants**? It's flawed:_

_But little can you, with none of the latter,_

_Say of consequence, and much less matter_

_—Yea, I see it all, it fits my plan:_

_You've no choice but to be a congressman._

_But, lo, you must take to your side at once_

_One whom you might well live in **consonance**_

_With; yea, and though there shall be constant friction,_

_You'll at least be able to have diction,_

_Theoretically, I mean, for she_

_Will do the diction—as you'll quickly see._

_And when you never get a word in edgewise,_

_You'll (to see to pledge love isn't pledge-wise)_

**_Very_** ** __**_much change **the position of**_

**_The 'she said' phrases_** _one avowal: love._

__

And it came to pass that Adam did as God suggested and took unto his side an help meet, one Eve (née Consonant), who cleaved unto him. The days went by, and by and by God spake unto Adam: _How goeth the battle of, Adam?_ not that he didn't know. Wherefore Adam raised him a great hue and cry unto Heaven: "O _Lordy,_ _God Almighty!_ Verily, she said, 'Haven't you left for bringing home the wild boar yet?' And then she said, 'Surely you're not going out in _that_?' And then she said, "You may as well take out the mastodon carcass and yesterday's _Garden of Eden Cast in Stone_ while you're at it.' And then she sai—" _NO, NO, NO!_ God thundered amain. _Hast thou so quickly forgotten my eleventh commandment—Thou shalt **vary** the position of the she said phrases? Try again._ Adam sighed and continued: " 'And don't forget,' she said [I wasn't even out the Garden gate], 'to pick up the fig leaves from the long-tongued aardvark—and don't let him pull off that tired old "I'll have them licked clean by Tuesday" routine,' she said." _Yea, and likewise you might vary the said verb such as she replied, responded, yelled, bi—but then, Adam, what did you say?_ "O God, I wanted so _so_ badly to say, 'At least the aardvark has _got_ a tongue!' " _What did you say?_ "I said, 'I . . . ,' but that's as far as I got. As you know, she was a Consonant who married a Vowel, becoming Eve Consonant-Vowel, thus was— _is_ —able to make _no end_ of words, whereas I didn't become Adam Clayton Vowel-Consonant, so I am at a loss to get beyond an occasional 'I . . . ,' 'A . . . ,' 'O . . . ,' or rarely 'Oy! . . . .' _What did I tell you?_ "O God Almighty, it's a good thing I don't need consonants to talk to you, only blind avowal." _Well, Adam, at least you can take consolation in being a congressman, in which case everybody expects you to be consonant with nothing to say._

**Cultivate variety in words**

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**_Bloody Mary_** _has some choice words (she chooses to repeat them) for the rabble._

"I know, I know, I _know._ " "Bloody hell you do, Mary! You use the same words over and over." "Bitch, bitch, bitch. That's what I say about _that_. And I know that you know that that _that_ is that _that_ that I used that time that I said _that_. And by that I mean that gold in that Treasury that I saved—and that's that." "But . . ." "But . . ." "But nothing. I'm _Queen_. Queen _Bloody Mary_ , and I can be just as bloody repetitious as I bloody well want, and what bloody Protestant or Catholic is going to tell me I'm bloody well wrong? . . ."
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227. Variety in Words Was Not Her Style

"So, Bloody Mary, Quite Contrary-o,

How does your bloody garden, Mary, grow?"

Her subjects taunted Mary in her time,

And she'd reply in add-verseary rhyme:

"With Protestants burned at the stake (you know),

And gravestones cold—all lined up in a row."

And they'd sing in liturgical response,

"Oh, Mary!" as it were in protest taunts,

"All _Protestants_ that lie so cold and low

Within their graves? No _Catholics_ below?

"But _Protestant_ —that _one_ word—lies within?

How many, Mary, of that one-word sin?"

"Three hundred by my latest count, or so

—Yet mounting with each Protestant death throe.

But _out_ side of the grave I kill, with kindness,

Catholics." "Oh, Mary, in your blindness,

Don't you see? You must put _friend_ and foe

( _Die_ versity) within the grave—inflow

Some Catholics (some new one-word interreds)

To **Cultivate variety _inwards_**."

"Yes, yes, yes," Queen Mary I, daughter of the late King Henry VIII, reiterated, "I know, I know, I _know._ " "Bloody hell you do, Mary!" her subjects cried in unison. "Just as you use Protestants over and over again in the grave—to the grave exclusion of all others—so you make the as-grave mistake of using the same _words_ over and over. Your late father, who had no less than _six_ royally loquacious wives, certainly cultivated variety in words. Some chip off the old chopping block you are!" "Well, well, well—such umbrage. But let me ask you, you—and _you_ : Have you not heard, many times over, that a Queen's word is as good as gold?" "Uh-uh." "Uh-uh." "Uh-uh." "Lies, lies, lies! Listen, if I were to use a new, a brand new, a spanking new word every time I said something, would I not soon deplete the Royal Word Treasury of its gold?" They had to concede she had logic on her side. "Think how much I've saved by only putting Protestants (whom nothing could save) in the grave, and only killing Catholics with kindness." "But if you never cultivate variety in words, just use the same words over and over and over again, your writing as well as your speaking will be dull, dull, dul—" "Bitch, bitch, bitch. That's what I say about _that_. And I know that you know that that _that_ is that _that_ that I used that time that I said _that_. And by that I mean that gold in that Treasury that I saved—and that's that. And that is _good_ , that is—" "But . . ." "But . . ." "But . . ." "But nothing. I'm _Queen_. Queen _Bloody Mary_ , and I can be just as bloody reiterative, reduplicative, and repetitious, as I bloody well want to be—and what bloody dead Protestant, or bloody Catholic killed with bloody kindness, is bloody well going to tell me that I'm bloody well wrong?" "Bloody bitch!" "Bloody bitch!" "Bloody bitch!" "Bloody bitchin'! I knew you bloody lot would see things my way in time."

**Do not engage in phony dialogue**

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_Star-crossed lovers_ ** _Romeo and Juliet_** _are fated to engage in phony dialogue._

[The foen on Juliet's balcony rings] "Yowzer." "Yo, Jules, it's me, Romeo." "Yo Romeo, Romeo—where in blazes _are_ you, Romeo?" "What, have you got stars in your Roy Orbisons? I'm right below your balcony, on the orchard pay foen." " _Jeepers creepers!_ You'll pay for it, Romeo—with your _life_ —if Capulet Home Security® catches you!" "Don't sweat it, my little chickadee." "Hey, listen up, Romeo, we're foes, but spare me the foeny dialogue." "Wo ho _HO!_ Look who's callin' the colloquy black . . ."
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228. Their Phony Dialoguing Was to Die For

The Capulets and Montagues are foes;

Hers (Juliet's) the former, Romeo's

The latter house—yet how they speak of love

Between them on the foen, the foemance of

It all—what passioned words they share between

Them (never mind that she is but a teen,

And so is he). Despite their callow age

They foement marriage, foenally engage:

"My foenee, Juliet!" "O Romeo,

My foener—tell me that you speak not _faux_!"

And on they "dial"logue: "Fair Juliet

—But soft! what light through yonder fenestrette

Breaks. 'Tis the east, and Juliet the—" "Son

Of foes—O Romeo, it _kills_ me, hon,

To hear thee butcher my romancing so

With such faux words as _fenestrette,_ my faux-

word _Fauxneo_ [he sighs, 'Aye, _poison_ 's best!']

—Each one is like a _dagger_ in my breast!"

Poor star-crossed lovers, they knew not, agog,

**Do not engage in foeny diealogue**.

[The foen on Juliet's balcony rings] "Yowzer." "Yo, Jules, it's me, Romeo." "Yo Romeo, Romeo—where in blazes _are_ you, Romeo? . . . Romeo? . . . hello? . . . . you there?" [he, aside] "She parley-voos! [end aside] What, have you got stars in your Roy Orbisons? I'm right below your low balcony, on the orchard pay foen." " _Jeepers creepers!_ You'll pay for it, Romeo—with your _life_ (the original credit card with the all-too-paltry credit limit) —if Capulet Home Security® catches you!" "Don't sweat it, my little chickadee; all is hunky-dory, a small, narrow, flat-bottomed skiff much favored by east-central-European laborers pejoratively called _bohunks_ (BO[HEMIAN] + modified HUNG[ARIAN]) to get them to the New World." "Hey, listen up, Romeo—you of the wide- _Romeing_ charges—we're natural-born foes, you and I (a plague on both our mortgaged-to-the-hilt spit-level ranch houses!)—but there's no need to be foelitically incorrect. The very _least_ you could do is express your ethnicity-bashing hatred by calling these FOES (fresh off the emigrant ship) 'boat people,' or DPs, in something other than foeny dialogue." "Wo ho _HO!_ Look who's callin' the colloquy black. Your dialogue's as believable as two star-crossed puppy-lovers yakkin' on the foen." "Hey, listen, _Foeneo_. If anybody needs to get real around here it's _you_." "Oh yeah?" " _Yeah!_ Remember, we're talkin' _early- **14th-century!**_ _Verona_ here—and you're up and givin' me a dingle on the _foen_ —a farshtinkener _pay_ foen at that—and askin' me if I've got Star Weekly®s or Twinkies® or whatevers in my Roy Orbisons. I mean, like, how real is _that_?" "About as real as 'credit card,' 'Capulet Home Security®,' and 'mortgaged-to-the-hilt spit-level ranch houses.' " "Well-l-l-l! If _that_ 's the foeny way you feel, goodnight, goodnight— _hanging up_ is such sweet sore row!" [click, die-all tone]

**Use only denotative words when they are appropriate**

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**_"Dino" Martin_** _'s fanos went to the wall for him when he sang denotative words (to them alone)—but went for the exit en masse when he sang a connotatively different tune._

"We've been _conned_ —when we gave our heart-earned money to be _Deaned_! When you crooned your signature denotative words (sigh), we knew that what we were hearing was literally what we were getting: pure, lovely, un _con_ notated Dino, each word explicit, meaning neither more nor less than what it stated, carrying no favorable or unfavorable associated meanings, and no emotional baggage, like _everybody, somebody, sometime_. But one night you began crooning _connotative_ words like _sun, moon, heart, love, **us**_. . ." __
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229. He Conned Them (Sob!) with Connotative Words

Young Dino Paul Crocetti was so keen

On singing that he changed his name to lean

Dean Martin. A romantic crooner, "Dino"

(Friends still called him that) was _Valentino_

To adoring women; how they sighed

And sighed and sighed, and went all goo-goo-eyed

To hear him croon "Volare," "That's Amore,"

Fantasying a romantic foray;

How they hung (each struck the right she-note)

On Dino's each heart-melting (sigh) Dinote.

While "Everybody Loves Somebody (Sometime),"

They loved Dino, as a body, humtime

—Till he sang __ them _connotative_ words

That _connotated_ love to his lovebirds

As, rapt, each hung on Dino's each note, spellbound.

Woe! Poor Dino soon found he was _hellbound_ :

All got up and left—to hear "Old Blue Eyes."

That's when ("They're __ all _gone_ —took their boo-hoo eyes!")

Dino learned: **Use only** (they're most apt

Sigh]) [**Dinotative words when they are rapt**.

"We've been _conned_ ," Dino was mortified to hear as teary-eyed "fanos" stormed out en masse, "—when we gave our heart-earned money to be _Deaned_!" He was at a nonplus, plus a loss, until the only fano still talking to him tearfully explained: "You—you see," she barely managed to choke out between sobs, "w-w-when you crooned your signature denotative words (sigh), we knew that what we were hearing was literally what we were getting: pure, lovely, un _con_ notated Dino. Each sweetly denotative word was crystal clear, explicit, and meant neither more nor less than what it stated, just as it did the day you got it out of _Singer's New World Denotative Dictionary_ ; all perfectly objective words that carry no favorable or unfavorable associated meanings, and come without a single piece of emotional baggage (get a grip!), like _everybody, somebody, sometime, somehow_. But, but then one night, for no accountable reason, you . . . you began crooning _connotative_ words such as _sun, moon, heart, love, us, belong, memories, pillow, dream, Roma,_ _eye—bigga pizza pie_ (sob!) _—_ all of which mean vastly different things—to **different** people— and come with no less than a sex-piece matching set of emotional baggage. (Not one of us ever got a handle on _amore_ , or _volare_ , let alone _nel blu dipinto di blu_.) In your (sigh) denotative period, you used to croon a dreamily explicit, unambiguous _you_ , __ which _you_ (Dino's most devoted fano) knew the clear, precise, literal meaning of. But in your (sob!) connotative period, literally every fano began to interpret _you_ as connoting _me_ , and _you_ , naturally the _one_ fano to whom you, Dino, were singing, felt betrayed. Oh-h-h-h, Dino! _Return to me / God te mia ti amo / Solo tu, solo tu / Solo tu, solo tu / Mi amour_ —even though I haven't the foggiest denotative notion _what_ you were singing—to _me_ —alone."

**Weed out the jargon**

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**_Harry Potter and Pol Pot_** ** __**_in "Upping Jargon."_

"Man, autocratically ruling despotician Pol Pot Cannabis, excavate this: the thespian duo whose demotic cognomen is Cheech and Chong is contractually engaged to histrionically portray our _Cannabis sativa_ -inhaling personas in the celluloid projection **Up in Smoke**." "Harry Potter Cannabis-Toker, how many horological periods must I orally apprise you not to vocally enunciate the idiomatic unisex articulation 'Man!' but, in its arcanely jargoneering stead, its Latinate taxonomic equivalent _Homo sapiens_?" _"Huh! . . ."_
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230. They Learned, up Doo Creek, to Weed Out the Jargon

Stoned Harry Potter, smoking cannabis,

Fell deep in Pot-Smoke Chasm, an abyss,

Man!—smack on Pol Pot. " _Curse!_ Are you stone blind?"

Pot cried, right out of his Pot-smoking mind.

" _Look_ , Potter, you're a growing lad, I know,

So let us speak in pure pot-smoke argot.

We lot must form a secret counter-culture,

Counter that pot-smoker-nabbing vulture,

Man, the Man, who'd love to— _caveat_

—Man, nab us, Potter, you can book on that!"

"You're right, man, we must speak pot-smoke potois,

Go all to pot to hide from him, the Law,

Man, words like _joint, toke, high, roach, bong, hit, hash,_

_Narc, pothead, stoned, trip, ganja, doobie,_ _stash_."

"Right! I hide my Pol pot joints in this jar;

The Man won't _ever_ guess that's where they are."

" _—Man,_ wrong! Your hand's as red as mine, Pol Pot,

So deep within your kookie jar—we're caught!"

Pol, Potter both learned, up the river, far gone:

When the Man's around, **Weed out, the jar gone**.

"In the negative, negatory, oh _nay,_ Harry Cannabis-Toker," Pol Cannabis expostulated in a schismatically dissenting manner, manifestly in a state of heightened calorification on the underside of his collar. (The two _Cannabis sativa_ inhalers had had a metaphorically related restraining device of the order _apprehendus_ clamped upon their joint infracting personages contemporaneous to their being caught with their manual appendages of an irrefutably rubicund spectral hue). "How many horological periods must I orally apprise you not to vocally enunciate 'Man!' but, in its arcanely jargoneering stead, its italicized Latinate taxonomic equivalent _Homo sapiens_?" "The second-person-singular entity more demotically expressed as 'you' are unimpeachably accurate, beloved once-and-erstwhile autocratically ruling despotician Pol 'Pot' Cannabis. That federally mandated narcotics-proscribing factotum aka 'the Man' has it within the narrow intellectual compass of his cognitive capacity to aurally process that monosyllabic unit of linguistic utterance, and thuswise _propter hoc_ decipher the lingual import of our uncabalistic colloquy." "That is infallibly inerrant, Harry Cannabis-Toker, and the causal sequence that effectuated the resultant eventuation of our being flotationally situated up the meandering hydrodynamic confluence in the minus of a wooden flat-bladed implement schematized for hydrokinetic propulsion." "Say what? Excuse the first person singular accusative case, Pol Cannabis. I had purposed to query, via the interrogatory expedient of inquisition, as to the denotative and connotative nature of your most latterly oral communiqué." "Huh?—that is, present juncture you have the intellectual concept, Harry Cannabis-Toker!" "10-4. If _we_ doubt, in not weeding out the jargon, what aspiration in Hades does the Man—" _"Homo sapiens!"_

**Avoid the use of _be_ in place of _say_ , as well as in circumlocutory _be_ phrases**

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**_Verb-be Hancock_** _is "like" disinvited to the Be-In during the Summer of Love by the likes, or rather the strong dislikes, of Baba Ram Dass, Allen Ginsberg, and Timothy Leary._

"And I'm like, 'Some Be-in! Some _Summer of Love_ when a being can't be in existence at a Be-in and be what he was born to be!' And they're like, 'And _that_ 's why we don't want you to be at our Be-in, Verb-be!" And I'm like, 'What do you mean?' And Ram Dass is like, 'It's the way you abuse the verb be, using be in place of say: _And I' m like_.' And I'm like, 'What's wrong with that?' And Ginsberg is like, 'And your other habit of using be in circumlocutions like _be in attendance, be in existence_ in place of _attend_ and _exist_. . . ."
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231. Like He Like Used Verb Be in Place of Say

In San Francisco, 1967,

Verb-be Hancock came to be-in heaven,

Hippie Heaven, where one could be free in

"Be," to "be there" at the Human Be-in.

Golden Gate Park, in that golden day,

Was just the place to be to have your say

— _If_ just by "happening"stance you should be

A. Ginsberg, Baba Ram Dass, Timothy

F. Leary. "I came to be there that day,

And I was," Verb-be fumed, "like _blown away_.

"And I'm like, 'What do you _mean_ I can't be

A counter-culture and beat poetry-

speak guru—man, I've made my roundabout

Way here from Chi-Town to make sound about

The scene, about the unbelievable,

God, _like_ ness, man, of being beautiful,

Be in attendance at the . . .' and they're like,

'Look, _beat it,_ Verb-be, we've learned—take a hike!—

**Avoid use of Verb-be in place of say,**

**And in a circumlocutory way**.' "

"And I'm like, 'Some Be-in! Some _Summer of Love_ when a being—especially a _human_ being—can't be in existence at a Be-in and be what he was born to be!' And they're like, 'And _that_ 's precisely why we don't want you to be at our Be-in, Verb-be!" And I'm like, 'What do you mean?' And Baba Ram Dass (you'd think a person who used to be Richard Alpert would be inclined to be more empathetic) is like, 'It's the way you abuse the verb be: First off, your annoying habit of using be in place of say: _And I' m like, And they're like, And she's like,_ and the like.' And I'm like, 'What's wrong with that?' And he's like, 'I give up. Maybe _you_ can beat some sense into him, Ginsberg.' And Allen is like, 'And your other drive-us-up-the-wall habit is your penchant for using be in circumlocutions like _be in attendance, be in existence_—as you did—when it would be so much easier and shorter and snappier to say _attend_ and _exist_. That is bad enough in prose, but in poetry, which demands concision, it's the kiss of death. And I won't even mention beat poetry in which, after all is said and dung, the whole idea is to say nothing at all.' And Leary, he's like, 'Such abuses of be are to be condemned, being enough to give our beloved Be-in a bad name. But some uses generally considered as not [being] so condemnatory would be acceptable. If judged by us [to be] totally be-free, then you could be one of us.' And I'm like, 'Like _your_ abuses?' And he's like, 'What do you mean?' And I'm like, 'You totally begrudged be the right to be twice, which I've been obliged to go back and give being to in brackets.' And Leary's like, 'I think we need to get our minds right on be, with a mind-altering hit of LSD.' And I'm like, 'Is LSD like a good head trip to be on? And they're like, 'Let's _say_ —besides _"Get lost!"_ —it's a LOT better than the bad trip you're on' "

**Use vulgar language only with discretion**

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**_Attila the Hon_** _finds himself in hot water for using bulgur language on Honey the Hon._

"You could have gone down in history as Attila the Hon, my sweet Hon and only. But _no-o-o_ , you had to go and use bulgur language on me. Here I thought you were the wholesome type who would woo me with romantic tales of _whole_ wheat. Now what do I find? That you're a foulmouthed lover of lewd, _potty-mouthed_ portrayals of cruelty, rapacity—and _cracked_ wheat. Well, your true nature comes out at last." "H-H-Honey, you've got me all wrong. You're confusing bulgur language with _vulgar_ language. . . ."
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232. His "Vulgar" Language Got Him in Hot Water

The Hon Attila got in trouble with

His Honey—bigtime—and soon came to myth

Her and himself: "I sacked the area

West of the Black Sea called Bulgaria,"

Said he on his return, "and, Hon, you'd not

_Believe_ how foul-mouthed is that Bulgar lot,

For eating such an _awful_ lot of cracked

Wheat they call _bulgur_ —so I'm glad I sacked

Them—Hon, you won't believe how they prepare

This yucky mess we Honeys wouldn't _dare_

"Put in our mouths: they get some fetid water,

Get it tepid, then they make it _hotter_ ,

Boiling it, then dump the cracked wheat in

And stir; this _mucilage_ , this slimy sin,

They then pour—steaming hot—in bulgur bowls,

Add honey, put this mess in Bulgar _holes—_ "

" _Enough!_ Don't 'Honey' me—I've heard enough,

Gross _Hun_ Attila, of this bulgur stuff.

_Hun!_ Don't you know to **Use** [start Hunpecked session]

**Bulgur language only with _discretion_**?

"Well I hope you're satisfied now," Attila's grossed-out Honey the Hon said in disgust. "You could have gone down in history as Attila the Hon, my sweet Hon and only; been the romantic lead in Hondreds and Hondreds of romance novels—any of which could have been a No. 1 Oprah Honfrey Book Club pick. But _no-o-o,_ you had to go and use bulgur language on me. Now you're going to go down in _Hun-dreads_ of history books. Here I thought, when I met you, that you were the wholesome type who would woo me with romantic tales of _whole_ wheat. Now what do I find? That you're the gross, smutty, foulmouthed, not-suitable-for-mixed-company, guttersniping type; a lover of lewd, lurid, fulsome, salacious, _potty-mouthed_ portrayals of cruelty, rapacity—and _cracked_ wheat. Well, your true nature comes out at last." "H-H-Honey, listen, you've got me all wrong. You're confusing bulgur language with _vulgar_ language. Sure, like any Hon, I'm out to rape, plunder, and pillage—and _thank God_ for this Pill Age—cruelly, unmercifully. But I would never stoop—" "Oh don't make things worse. You could have written about your heartless conquests in suitable-for-all-audiences _Attila the Hon_ , making me one historical, romantic figure. But, _no-o-o-o-o_ , __ you had to go and use bulgur language, leaving cream of Tartar censors no choice but to X-rate _Attila the Hun_ , assuring I'll be one pariah of a 'Bulgur heroine!' How embarrassing, _mortifying_! The least you could have done is made me unanimous." "Uh, Honey, I believe the word you were thinking of is 'anonymous.' " " _I_ wasn't thinking any such uncouth, coarse, bawdy, filthy, down-'n'-dirty, unrepeatable thing. _You're_ the Hun, I'm the _Honey—_ remember? Oh, boo-hoo! Now I'll _never_ get to meet Oprah Honfrey who only gets vulgar if you ask her if she's related to James Frey."

**Do not lean on crutch words for support**

****

** **

****

**_Ebeneezer Scrooge_** _, visited by the Ghost of Words to Come, can't wait to tell Tiny Tim._

" _Yuletide blessings,_ Tiny Tim. There, two new words for you. Throw your old crutch away. You're cured! put write! Come, let us run and sport." "God bless us—every one! I thought I was going to be crippled for life with just my few crutch words to lean, fall back on in every situation. Now there's no stopping me! Look out worl—oh, but surely, Uncle Ebeneezer, I should say, 'Look out _word_ —here I come!" " _That_ 's the Christmas spirit! Tiny Tim, whatever that is. _Christmas. Spirit._ What strange words. Bah . . ."
**  
**

233. He Ceased to Lean on Crutch Words for Support

Old Ebeneezer Scrooge, perhaps you've heard,

Was the arch-skinflint with his flinty word:

Whenever he was in a word-bind clutch,

The fallback word he'd lean on for a crutch

Was _Bah!_ and if this needed crutch support

_—Bah, humbug!_ served to "prop"erly escort.

"What, use a _new_ word—throw the old _away_

Each time I've some _Bah, humbug!_ thing to say?

Why, it would soon, not word pecuniary,

Bankrupt— _bah!_ —my pinched vocabulary."

Christmas Eve. The Ghost of Words to Come

So scared him _"Christmas!"_ popped out—new-word plum!

Far from impoverished, he fairly twitched

With joy to find his tongue plum-word _enriched_.

To Cratchit's house he flew with Christmas trim

Of turkey where he sang out, "Tiny Tim—

Hear! _Yuletide blessings!_ —there, two words for you,

Two _new_ ones—throw your prop away, it's through!

You're cured! put write! Come, let us run and sport

Who **Do not lean on crutch words for support**."

"God bless us—every one!" cried Tiny Tim. "I thought I was going to be crippled for life with just those few crutch words to lean, fall back on in every situation. Now there's no stopping me. Look out world—oh, but surely I should say _word_ , Uncle Ebenezer—here I come!" " _That_ 's the Christmas spirit, Tiny Tim! It hardly becomes us as . . . as . . . why, I don't believe I've ever known in all my life what _we_ are." " _People_ , Uncle Ebeneezer." " _People._ What a novel word. But then what's a _novel_?" "I think it's the sort of made-up tommyrot _novelists_ turn out, Uncle." " _Novelists._ Are they somehow related to _novels_?" "Novelists write novels." "Oh, _that_ 's who write them . . . whoever _who_ is." " 'Who' is _they_ , Uncle; they who write them." "Well I'll be! I met one of those, er, novel fellows once. What the dickens was his name again? Ch— Cha— Char—" "You mean Charles Dickens?" "The very one! Here, Bob Cratchit, what a clever little lamebrain you've _sired_ , whatever that means. Why, it was only this morning on my way here to have a change of _heart_ —though I've not the London-foggiest what that is, much less how I'd go about changing it. How this novel chap's eyes lit up at mention of my Christmas Eve encounter with the Ghost of Words to Come. He wanted to scribble it all down, put it in something he called a _novella_ , call it _A Christmas Care? Hell!_ 'How much will you pay?' I inquired. 'I expect,' said he, 'I'll get it _buckshee_.' ' _Will_ you? Well, I could use one, however much it is. But look here, must _she_ come along with it. She—bah, humbug!—will only want to spend—' " "Yes, but, Uncle, what did you bring me for a _present_?" "Eh, _present_? What's that?" "A _gift._ " " _Gift?_ " "Yes, a gift you _give_ me—for Christmas." "For _nothing_? Without your having child-labored for it? _Bah, humbug!_ Here, take your crutch back again. _Bah!_ "

**Avoid pretentious diction**

****

** **

****

_Arch-villain and nemesis Plain Talk is confronted by pretentious dick_ ** _Dicktion Tracy_** _._

"Well-l-l, if it isn't my old word-dick, Dicktion Tracy." "Visualize here, Plain Talk. I am apprehending your scofflaw personage _en plus_. Do you obtain, as I, a sensual perception of _déjà vu_ —" "Ha ha ha, you never change. Same old charge, I gather, plain speaking?" "That's _comme il faut, homo sapiens._ " "Are you saying 'That's true, man?' " "Affirmative. If I can custodialize Harry Truman for plain speaking, as I have effectuated multiplicitous times, I hazard a conjecture that I can apprehend you . . ." 
**  
**

234. Avoid Pretentious Diction? Neither Could

When lantern-jawed dick, comic Dicktion Tracy,

Got on someone's case, in someone's face, he

Always had a word or two to say

In his own trademark Dicktionary way:

He'd use such diction, in his dick affairs,

As well assured he'd put on pompous airs

With all those on the wrong side of the law

He busted for the criminal _faux pas_

Of using words so hardly pompous rated,

They were each, of all such airs, deflated;

Meaning, when pronounced out on the street,

They'd all be _understood_ —where's the conceit

In that? If he was diction-tense before,

This felony made Dicktion all the more

Tense. Armed with high-flown, swollen synonym,

He'd prowl, his lantern jaw preceding him,

Its fuel pure gas; and felons saw the light

And stopped their ears up pompous-language tight.

Once busted (ear drums? No such blest affliction),

All soon learned: **Avoid pre-tenseous Dick—shun**!

In hunting down these dangerous "dictionals," Dicktion knew he need only get the latest word on the street. As soon as he heard one he'd arrest his motion and auscultate. When he heard it again he knew he had a repeat offender on his _mano a manos_ , and he'd orally verbalize into his bilateral-way carpus wireless receiver: "Receiving loud auditory signals appertaining to a resaydivist. Manifestly, indubitably a career __ criminal, possessing all the earmarks of my arch-nemesis Plain Talk. Negative. Transmit no reinforcements. I've got my back up—" "Well-l-l, if it isn't my old word-dick, Dicktion Tracy." "I theorized I'd hearken to your nefarious vocalizations _au futur_ or _ex post facto_ , Plain Talk." "Still your same old self I see. How's the Mrs.?" "If I am to presume that your felonious personage is alluding to my uxorial spousal unit, the same has enjoined me to communicate that she is regretful to convey that she is more rueful every diurnal period." "I'm sorry to hear that—not the Mrs., of course, perfectly understandable—I meant—" "Visualize here, Plain Talk. I am apprehending your scofflaw personage _en plus_ —do you obtain, as I, a sensual perception of _déjà vu_ —" "Ha ha ha, you never change. Same old charge, I gather, plain speaking?" "That's _comme il faut, homo sapiens._ " "Are you saying 'That's true, man?' " "Affirmative. If I can custodialize Harry Truman for plain speaking, as I have effectuated multiplicitous times, I hazard a conjecture that I can apprehend y—" "You're such a card, Dicktion. You _know_ the judge is just going to throw the case, and you, out of court for the umpteenth time." "Should his esteemed jurisprudence elect to exercise his discretionary jurisdictional powers in the manner to which you allude, that is his bailiwick." "Speaking of wicks, Dicktion, I think the one in your lantern jaw is about to go out." " _Extinguish!_ "

41. Sentences

_Whenever the literary German dives into a sentence, that is the last you are going to see of him till he emerges on the other side of his Atlantic with his verb in his mouth._

—Mark Twain

_And anyone is free to condemn me to death—_

_If he leaves it to nature to carry out the sentence._

—Robert Frost

****

**Lock Doors, Hide: Sentence Loose—Eleven More**

"A sentence—I can paraphrase Thoreau

As well as Diction Twain—should read as though

Its author, holding plow instead of pen,

Had drawn a furrow deep—write to the end.

Oh, come now, was that not a sentence sweet,

Made up of _choicest_ words? Who can compete?

And oh! the sentences that I can be:

Yes, simple, easy—well, at least by _me_ ,

And **com** pound, **com** plex, **com** pound- **com** plex—oh,

Look how I handle stress! Pronounce me so

"Exclamatory and declarative,

And interrogative, imperative,

And, say it, yes, go on— _sweet!_ —periodic,

Cumulative/loose, but _not_ spasmodic

(Cleft I may be), nor am I asthmatic;

I can't— _yes, I can!_—be, too, **emphatic** :

I'm a group of words (that's me, the pith),

Grammatically complete, that starts out with

A capital, and ends with an end stop.

Run that, you'll find me one mean sentence cop."

Oh, class, wasn't that completely sweet of Sentences? Yes, while Diction was generous in the extreme in giving us limitless choice, Sentences went out of her way, right to the end, to give us completely limitless choi— _We interrupt this introduction to bring you this late-breaking bulletin: Sentences—all twelve of her—has been captured and charged with twelve counts of being in complete unawful possession of a subject and predicate. While she has yet to be tried, she has already long since been convicted that she is twelve completely sweet groups of words._ "So-o-o-o, _completely_ sweet, are we?" the sentencing judge begins ominously (a complete sweet addict, he lost all his teeth at an early age). "Well, we'll just see how sweet you are—with back-to-back sentences! one for each of your twelve different crimes of fashion. What? _No!_ The court has just been informed that she is of the added conviction that, without her, standing alone in all of her many aliases, there would be no Paragraphs much less Style. Upon my word, I've never had a more convicted defendant stand—on her own—before me! Well, Justice must be serve— _no!_ don't tell me! The court now learns that the defendant's _further_ conviction is that the sooner she starts serving those sentences up, with complete meaning, the sooner she'll be able to begin her twelve-step recovery program. You don't say. Stand the preconvicted defendant up before me. What? She's already standing?—on her own? Well, you're _some_ independent sweetheart, aren't you? And, as I swore, Justice must be served. Therefore, Convict S-12, it is the decision of this court that these be your back-to-back sentences:

**Simple** (one _independent clause_ , one act of predication): _She was convicted. / Up the river she went. / Society is once more free to speak in sentence fragments._

**Compound** (more than one _independent clause_ ): _Her body is locked up in the prison compound,_ but _her criminal mind is free to wander. / She cannot be rehabilitated; she must be segregated from society until a period of death brings her to a full stop._

**Complex** (one _independent clause_ , one or more _dependent clauses_ ): _Her stand-alone completeness, which is her most egregious criminal trait, is to blame. / When her sentence is complete, she will be summarily re-sentenced._

**Compound-complex** (more than one _independent clause,_ one or more _dependent clauses_ ): _After she was tossed in the whole , the prisoners all cheered,_ and _the warden heaved a sigh of relief._

**Periodic** (the full meaning is withheld till the final _independent clause_ ): **** Put on bread and water; given one paper-thin blanket, no mattress, no reading materials; deprived of contact with other prisoners, conjugal visits, the light of day, exercise; locked up 24/7, _she vowed, on getting out, to sentence them to death._

**Cumulative/Loose** (completes the main idea stated at the beginning of the sentence): ** __**_She was a proud sentence_ boasting an alluring capital, a pretty complete meaning, a no-nonsense the-buck-stops-here end stop; and an all-consuming desire for revenge.

**Cleft** (single _clause_ is cleaved/split into two parts using _It_ or a _Wh-_ word):

Single clause: _She recited flattering sentences to herself._

_It_ cleft: It was _to herself_ that _she recited flattering sentences._

_Wh-_ cleft: What _she recited to herself_ were _flattering sentences._

**Declarative** (makes an assertion, positive or negative, by stating a fact or expressing an opinion): _I am a convicted sentence. / Society believes I'm guilty. / It has locked me up for life. / I don't believe I'm a bad sentence._

**Interrogative** (asks a direct question): ****_Why have you locked me up? / What evidence do you have? Who are you to do this to me? / When am I getting out?_

**Imperative** (expresses a request, command, or plea): _Be nice. / Don't do this to me. Please let me go._

**Exclamatory** (expresses intense emotion): _What a fix I'm in! / My life is over!_

**Emphatic** (places emphasis on auxiliary verb): _I did have an alibi. / I have provided exculpatory evidence. / You must release me. / I do intend to be free and I shall prevail and I will live to fight again and I should punch you in the nose and I might just make it bleed and I can do it and I ought to do it and I need to do it—_what? _Have I become a **Run-on** sentence?_ Yes, well I was just running over— _wasn't I?_—to introduce

**The Novel Rules of Sentences**

**Irunon Andon . . . , I. Clausius**

Avoid the run-on sentence

**Too-loose Lautrec**

Eschew a string of loose sentences

**Buster Crabbe**

Don't ever bust long sentences in two

**Ken Lay**

Sentence elements coordinate in rank should be parallel in structure

**Dorothy Parker**

Avoid misleading parallelism

**Fess Parker**

Steer clear of faulty parallel construction

**Jimmy Hoffa**

Avoid setting off a phrase as a sentence

**Sacco and Vanzetti, Governor Dukakis**

Avoid correcting a fused sentence by placing a comma between its parts

**Elle McPherson**

Avoid dangling elliptical clauses

**Rhett Butler, Scarlett O'Hara**

Watch out for misplaced appositive

**Lee Marvin, Michelle Triola**

Properly position words such as _even_ , _hardly_ , _not only_ , _scarcely_

**Mr. Magoo, Waldo**

Avoid a squinting modifier

**Ramblin' Jack Elliott**

Avoid rambling sentences containing too many unnecessary details

**Pierre and Madame Curie**

Avoid inaccurate coordination

**the Dung Beetles**

Avoid a mixed or double comparison

**George Foreman**

Vary the form and length of sentences

**the London Bombers**

Make sentence transitions clear by using transitional words and phrases

**Timothy McVeigh**

Avoid putting a coordinate idea in a subordinate form

**Omar, Omit Khayyám**

Do not omit words necessary in a comparison

**Stephen King**

Avoid writing a series of short, choppy sentences

**Strother Martin, Cool hand Luke**

Be consistent in the use of subject and voice in a sentence

**Jonah, the Lord**

Use words out of their natural order once in a while as a method of emphasis

**Donkey Hoaty, Sancho Panza**

Get after dangling verbal phrases

**Judge Learned Hand**

Don't place the subject at the start of every sentence

**Judge Judy**

Save the muscle words of a sentence for the end

**Glen Campbell, Larry Weiss**

Arrange ideas in clear, orderly sequence

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Pronouns**

**U. S. Supreme Court, Itt Iterson, Mark Geragos**

Do not use impersonal _it_ and the pronoun _it_ in the same sentence

**Johnny Mantis**

Use a reflexive pronoun to refer to the subject of a sentence

**Phrases**

**Grammar Moses**

Participial phrases that begin a sentence must refer to the grammatic subject

**Commas**

**the Barker Gang**

Use a comma to separate contrasted elements in a sentence

**Colons**

**Kato Kolon, Marcia Clark**

Use a colon when a sentence contains a "question/answer" that's implied

**Periods**

**Clara Bow**

Use a period at the end of a declarative sentence

**Question Marks**

**Whynonah Ryder, Mark Geragos**

Use question marks to indicate a series of queries in the same sentence

**Capitals**

**Dennis Miller**

Begin a sentence with a capital letter

**Numbers**

**Lucky Luciano**

Never start a sentence with a numeral

**Paragraphs**

**Steffi Graf, André Agasseed**

Use the topic sentence as a guide for the paragraph

**Sprachgefühl**

**Judge William Young, Richard "Shoe bomber" Reid**

Take care to proofread each sentence

****

**Rules of Thumb—But Not Me!**

**Menachem Begin, Saddam Hussein, Yasser Arafat**

Do not begin a sentence with a conjunction

**Same Davis Jr., Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin**

Don't ever use the same word twice in the same sentence

**Denns Kozlouseski, Judge Michael Obus**

Never start a sentence with "There is . . ." or "There are . . ."

**Abu Musobbing Al-Zarqawi, Satan**

Don't use sentence fragments

**the Wright Brothers, Teddy Roosevelt**

Never write a one-sentence paragraph

**Bob Hopefully, Bing Crossly**

Never start a sentence "Hopefully . . ."

**However Hughes**

Never begin a sentence with "However . . ."

**Con E. Francis**

Never end a sentence with a preposition

**Martha Stewart**

Never end a sentence with a preposition

**Avoid the run-on sentence**

****

** **

****

_No one is more sick to death of the run-on sentence than_ ** _I. (Independent) Clausius_** _, but Irunon Andon can't help feeling he's running a close second._

"I. Clausius sentenced me to die by running on my own sword, and _oh!_ my life is fading fast, so friends, run-ons, countrymen, end me your leers and lend me your ears, and it is too late to lend me more years, I come to bury the run-on sentence, not to praise it, and the evil run-ons that men do live after them, and the men don't live after the run-ons, and so I say unto you, 'Turn your s _words_ into reduced predications, periods, and semicolons (what you end up with after running on your sword)'— _oh!_ and I would run on and on . . . and—" 
**  
**

235. He Learned Too Late: Avoid the Run-On Sentence

In 20 P.C. (P'd-off Clausius) Rome,

When horses ran on in the Hippodrome,

A runner by birth, Irunon Andon . . .

("Run"), stopped not in his run-on hurry-on,

Just briefly __ paused to let each comma splice

His one thought to the next in comma vice,

Which gave a run of sickness to I. Clausius,

Making I(ndependent) Clausius nauseous

By Run's talk that never ceased to run

(God!) on and on, and how it sickened one

I. Clausius: "Run, you run _—not_ copacetic!

So I'll mete you justice most poetic:

You will run on, _sentence_? your own _sword_

I'll hold—and _then_ you'll stop, quite dead, __ self-gored."

What could Run do, so sentenced by I. Clausius,

But run on? He, too, become sore nauseous,

Cried, his life fast running on the floor,

"Friends, run-ons, countrymen, _one_ lesson more,

My dying words— _hear!_ onward-running men tense

(Groan!): Dear God, **Avoid the Run-on sentence** ,

and, above all, don't do as I did and run on and on and on, and take it from one who did run on and on, it is a very bad thing to do, and it is _fatal_ , and in the meantime my blood runs on and on and on, and on the floor—and I _deeply_ regret it," Irunon Andon . . . cried, bemoaning his fate, "and the worst of it is," he ran on, "I didn't just run on my sword, I continue to run on my sentences as well, and the effect of stringing together a long series of independent clauses, and stringing along Emperor I(ndependent) Clausius, is that of a child running on and on and on: '. . . and Papa ran me over to the Colosseum, and there were gladiators, and there were chariots, and there were Christians, and there were roars, of ferocious lions, and there was blood and gore, and even louder roars of spectators, and it made I. Clausius sick to his stomach to hear me run on and on, and it never occurred to me in I. Clausius's wildest screams that I might cure his stomach sickness, and so prevent my own, by reducing predication by combining two short sentences into one, or reducing a clause to a phrase, or reducing a phrase to a single word, or reducing two or more words to one, or reducing a compound or complex sentence to a simple sentence, such as being sentenced to die by running on your own sword, and _oh!_ my life is fading fast, so friends, run-ons, countrymen, end me your leers and lend me your ears, and it is too late to lend me more years, I come to bury the run-on sentence, not to praise it, and the evil run-ons that men do live after them, and the men don't live after the run-ons, and so I say unto you, 'Turn your s _words_ into reduced predications, and periods, and semicolons (what you end up with after running on your sword)'— _oh!_ and I would run on and on about the evils of the run-on sentence, but, as you can see, I and my blood and my life have got to run . . ."

**Eschew a string of loose sentences**

****

** **

****

**_Too-loose Lautrec_** _paints himself in a corner,_ Belle Époque _Montmartre, the pleasure quarter of Paris, that he might play fast and loose with les femmes and the law._

"I have much time on my hands, **so** I've taken up a hobby. I've channeled it into building Too-loose _sentences_ , **but** they're _monotonous_ Too-loose sentences. I specialize in building sentences of two clauses, **which** second clauses I begin with a conjunction or relative pronoun. This gives my sentences a robot-like symmetry, **and** they're singsongy. I could build periodic sentences, **whose** meaning is not revealed until the period. I could, **but** I would never be able to stand the high suspense. I _can't_ , **for** I am only 4'8" . . ."
**  
**

236. Too Loose by Law His String of Sentences

Too-loose Lautrec played too loose with the Law

_One's morals must be tight; if not— **faux pas!**_

His looseness took him to the pleasure quarters

( _Belle Époque_ Montmarte) midst paid consorters.

He, no saint himself, in these milieus

Art-justified his looseness to ill-use

The pleasures there in sentient moral rift,

So might his famed Too-loose artistic gift

Get painted ladies down on canvas (winking);

Too, play too fast, too loose with his drinking.

Law's long arm reached out, caught up Too-loose,

And would not hear his loose Too-loose excuse:

"I'm drinking, it's true, all the Montmarte night,

But too loose? _Mais non_. As you see, I'm tight."

It threw him into moral bankruptcy,

Said, " _You_ , Too-loose, have thrown away the key.

Now _see_ , _hear_ , _taste_ , _smell_ , _**feel**_ how loose you are,

For lack of sense, and, sentenced, learn— _au revoir!_

The Law—for all your Too-loose penchants—says:

**Eschew a string of** Too-][ **loose sentiences**."

Too-loose had taken a huge bite of immorality, **and** it was more than he could eschew. "I have nothing but time on my hands, **so** I've taken up a hobby. My talent for constructing Too-loose sentiences is prodigious, **and** I'm putting it to good use. I've channeled it into building Too-loose _sentences_ , **but** they're _monotonous_ Too-loose sentences. I specialize in building sentences of two clauses, **which** second clauses I begin with a conjunction or relative. This gives my sentences a robot-like symmetry, **and** they are very singsongy. I refrain from building simple sentences, **for** they contain but _one_ lone act of predication. They may have more than one subject or predicate, **but** they are unified in that _one_ act of predication. I, Too-loose, cannot build sentences like that, **for** I consider them way too easy. Sentences like that are simply too immoral, **while** I am Too- immoral. I could never build a sentence of two clauses joined by a semicolon, **as** such a sentence would make me too loose, at least in one sense. Half a colon may be good enough for some sentences, **but** not for those I build. I could build periodic sentences, **whose** full meaning is not revealed until the period. I could, **but** I would never be able to stand the suspense. I briefly toyed with constructing sentences of three or more clauses, **when** I realized—wait! That won't work, **for** then _I'll have to change my name_. Three-loose Lautrec has a near-pleasant ring to it, **but** I'm not _so_ immoral as to stoop to the lowly _ménage-à-claus._ Four-loose Lautrec would forever associate my name with _fourclausure_ — **and** my Too-loose-built sentences would be _loser_ than ever. I could, **but** I won't! Therefore, I shall serve out the remainder of my life building Too-loose sentences strictly to code, **and** a great and famous, if Too-loose, immoral artist I will be. I'll be sentenced to Writing Hell, **where** I'll be damned."

**Don't ever bust long sentences in two**

****

** **

****

**_Buster Crabbe_** _and Peggy'sis._

"Now that we're on the subject, Peggy'sis, I reckon the boys in the chain gang wouldn't crab too much if I was to up and bust _their_ long sentences in two, just as easily as I busted you, Peggy'sis, the best darn cowpony a cowpoke could ever have. Now would they? You see how good I am at the bustin' trade, ol' gal? I just busted that long sentence a few words back clean in two just as easy as pie by puttin' a period after 'have' instead o' one o' them there semmycolon thingmabobs, and addin' 'now would they?' . . ." 
**  
**

237. He Loved to Bust Long Sentences in Two

Hoss wrangler Buster Crabbe, lean, long, and tall,

Was "lon-n-n-n-ng" on bustin' hosses with a drawl.

He'd draw on out the bustin' of each hoss:

"I reckon _tha-a-a-a-at_ 'll show ya who-o-o-o-o-'s the boss,"

And then drawl, "Wa-a-a-a-all now I guess _tha-a-a-a-at_ 'll larn ya,"

Each one busted; when thrown, "Wa-a-a-a-all _darn_ ya!"

Draw his long legs back up in the saddle,

Spur it on and then drawl, "Ske-e-e-e-edaddle!"

And not long post- each one of his tosses,

"I guess that _the-e-e-e-ere_ larned ya who the bo-o-o-o-oss is."

Once he thought to try his bustin' feat on

"That right lo-o-o-o-ong tall purty gal I'm sweet on.

I've larned most enough of tha-a-a-a-at there grammer,

I 'spect, to draw out a lo-o-o-o-ovin' stammer."

Rounding it up with his longest drawstring,

He put it in some long hum-and-haw thing.

"Wa-a-a-a-all this strung-out word string ought to per-r-r-r-r-

suade that there gal how much I lo-o-o-o-ong for her."

She busted him loose waiting. He learned you

**Don't _ne-e-e-e-ever_ bust lo-o-o-o-ong sentences in too**.

"Wall now that danged fool drawlin' business taught me a darned good lesson, all right. But it didn't even come close to teachin' me not to bust long sentences in _two_. Just like I did there by using a period after 'all right' 'stead o' one o' them semycolon thingmabobs, and a small-b 'but.' Say, I reckon 'Small-b but' would make a right smart brand name for a ranch. Now wouldn't it, Peggy'sis, the best darn cowpony a cowpoke could ever have? See that? I just busted a long sentence in two again by puttin' a period after 'ranch.' And gave 'Now,' the word next to it, a swift kick in the uppercase. Did you catch that one? I just did it after 'ranch' _again_ to show whoever's makin' up the non-bustin' rules that you cain't hardly bust a hoss-buster named Buster of his bustin' habits complete. On account of you've gotta leave a man some dignities and self respects otherwise it's liable to bust his spirit clean in two. Just like I busted that there foregoin' sentence just as neat as can be after 'complete.' I guess that show's 'em who the boss is. Don't it, Peggy'sis? Look, see that? I can even do it with short sentences. The fact is, old gal, I'm so expert at this here sentence-bustin' trade, I reckon there's no shortness of jailbirds out there, or I guess I should say 'in' there, come to think on it, that wouldn't hesitate to pay me some really big bucks, not that I need them, what with all the bucks I'm gettin' in my other bustin' trade, to be bustin _their_ long sentences in two. Though I don't really see as how it'd be proper of me to be puttin' careerin' crim'nals back out on the old dusty trail so's they can be committin' more crimes and indulgin' in other nevarious rescindivisms so's that all of the sheriffs is havin' to bust 'em and build more 'n' bigger hoosegows just to wherehouse 'em. Did ya notice, Peggy'sis, how I busted a _real_ long one four lines back after 'two'?"

**Sentence elements coordinate in rank should be parallel in structure**

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** **

****

_Convicted Enron CEO_ ** _Ken Lay_** _snivels in his SHU (Solitary Housing Unit)._

"Solitary. What does it matter if I break the rule? Who is to hear me? Could I possibly be punished further if I were to say _Stockholders are out billions and are not having any luck_ instead of _Stockholders are out billions and out of luck._ " **_I_** _hear_ , _and I swear to myself and by all that is holy that your damned uncoordinated, off-the-rails snivelling is unparalleled._ "N-N-Now I Lay me down to sleep, I p-p-pray the Lord my soul to keep." _Upon my word, there is hope for you yet. No, I take that back; there is no hope . _. . 
**  
**

238. His Sentence (Hell) Was Parallel in Structure

Convicted Enron CEO Ken Lay

Was sentenced. Justice: " _Good!_ I'll, make you pay

For cooking the books, cooking you well learned

From Martha Stewart—give you what you've earned

For bilking thousands, _thousands_ of stockholders

Out of _billions_ of Lay-person folders,

Casting ('mere white-collar indiscretion')

All—the whole—in bottomless depression.

I, poetic Justice, for your role,

Now toss _you_ likewise Hell-deep in the hole

"—On bread and water! where you'll know, for drouth of,

What it's like to take right out the mouth of

Babes the very sustenance of _life_ ,

Your sentence, Con Lay, for the massive strife

You've caused—and _fetid_ water, _moldy_ bread,

Both _rank_ , as well befit your high-rank head,

For which your all will be in peril. Sent hence,

You'll learn—oh, you raise a _stink_ that Sentence

**Aliments coordinate in rank should**

**Be peril-all in structure** , Lay Ken waste? _Gooood!_ "

Ken Lay, now the past tense of _lie_ , __ lay on the cold, hard concrete of solitary and wept to contemplate the solitary rule of "the hole": _Sentence elements coordinate in rank should, must be parallel in structure._ In other words, a prepositional phrase must be coordinate with a prepositional phrase, an infinitive phrase with an infinitive phrase, a dependent clause with a dependent clause, etc.—or there'll be hole to pay. "What does it matter if I break the rule?" he sobbed. "Who is to hear me? Besides, could I possibly be punished further if I were to say _Stockholders are out billions and are not having any luck_ instead of _Stockholders are out billions and out of luck._ Or _I used to lie at stockholder meetings, luxury resorts, and Martha's vineyard_ rather than _I used to lie at stockholder meetings, prevaricate at luxury resorts, and cook the books with Martha in her vineyard._ Or, then again, _My whole raison d'être was to be filthy rich and that I am the most corrupt CEO in the world_ in lieu of _My whole raise on debt was to be filthy rich and be the most corrupt CEO in the world._ But who— _who_ is to hear? _Who_ would punish me further?" he sobbed. Whereupon a mighty voice spake unto him— ** _I_** _hear_ , _and I have heard just about all the snivelling from you that one God can stand. Verily, your damned snivelling is without parallel._ (GOD! _the_ CEO of CEOs.) Lay shivered where he lay and besoiled himself and prayed aloud: "N-N-Now I Lay me down to sleep, I p-p-pray the Lord my soul to keep." _Upon my word,_ God answered unto him, _there is hope for you yet. No, I take that back; there is no hope. Your God-damned crooked body is going to lie in the deepest hellhole for eternity, and your God-damned crooked soul is going to lie right beside it, perfectly in line with my plan for you. Yea, tell me, Lie, how lieth that with you for parallel stricture?_

**Avoid misleading parallelism**

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** **

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_Big-game hunter_ ** _Dorothy Parker_** _(Miss Anthrope, 1924) bags her trophy beast._

"Oh my god! Just _look_ at this trophy misleading parallelism— _I got this fur coat from a furrier and with matching leggings_. Closer . . . closer . . . _KerPOW!_ Hah! Did you really think you could mislead me with that _and_ into thinking it was the _furrier_ and _someone else_ you got your outfit from; or that it was the _furrier_ who had matching leggings, when it was you who 'bought it'? If you'd ambled out of the woods _I got this fur coat from a furrier; it came with matching leggings_ , by law I'd've had to let you go. Tough luck. . . ."
**  
**

239. She Led the Beast and Then She Lead the Beast

Some years before she was acerbic Mrs.

Dorothy Parker, she was, one verse (this) says,

Much a miss, a Miss Anthrope to be

Precise, arch-critic of humanity.

And oh! Miss Anthrope had some caustic wit

(It cost them dearly, all the butt of it).

Her putting them ("Such asses!") in wit peril,

Was like shooting—POW!—butts in a bare-all;

Those unblasted, living yet, unMissed,

Were put on the endangered species list.

Had PETA been around then they could not

Have kept these poor dumb beasts from being shot.

Her leading (led) shot "Go for the _read_ meat!" meant

All such beasts would get the shot-down treatment

On _site_ , in the bleeding protest "But!. . ."

—POW! Those she hit, and were at once so cut

Down in a hail of double-bare-alled wit

Of leading _lead_ cried, "Have _no_ perilled whit

Of her. Be sure, her 'But!. . .' shot won't be bum.

**Avoid Miss leading—peril _all_ is sum**!"

Dorothy ("Miss Leed" as she was pronounced in the back woods of the Algonquin Hotel) always led with her leading hunting stratagem: she would park her carcass in a hunting blind and wait for a misleading parallelism (a beast that's parallel in form but is neither parallel nor coordinate in content) to amble by. She never had to wait long: "Oh my God! Just _look_ at this beast—a trophy for sure!" Leading it with her deadly wit, she let the poor unwitting _I got this fur coat from a furrier and with matching leggings_ come within her range, then opened fire— _KerPOW!_ "Hah! Did you really think you could mislead me with that _and_ into thinking it was the _furrier_ and _someone else_ you got your outfit from; or that it was the _furrier_ who had matching leggings when it was really you all along who 'bought it'? You're _dead_! If you'd only ambled out of the woods _I got this fur coat from a furrier; it came with matching leggings_ , by law I'd have had to let you go. Tough luck." She'd no sooner stuffed its head with "Ungrammatical!" outrage and mounted it on a real wall-nut plaque when another hapless creature blithely sauntered out of the woods: _The Parallel Park Ranger noticed that fur-bearing animals are cuddlier, cuter, and they can't get life insurance like non-fur-bearing animals._ "Oh what a prize unparallel beast _you_ are! Come on, just a little closer . . . closer . . . . . _KaBOOM!_ Hah! Did you honestly believe you could mislead me, Miss _Lead_ , into thinking that your miserable unparallel hide was parallel in structure? If you'd only sashayed out _The Parallel Park Ranger noticed that fur-bearing animals are cuddlier and cuter than non-fur-bearing animals; consequently, they can't get life insurance to save their souls_ , I'd have had to let you go. Too bad. Maybe next life you'll know to choose your parents, your words, and your _woods_ a little more carefully."

**Steer clear of faulty parallel construction**

****

** **

****

**_Fess "Davy Crockett/Daniel Boone" Parker_** _cruises the strip in his spanking new forest-green Furrari looking for action: an attractive log to put his parallel parking moves on._

"I'm fair to middlin' come to parkin' my coonskin cap on my head; parkin' my buckskin breeches on a log; and I can't parallel park my Furrari to save my soul. Come to the last, I drive folks crazy, drive them nuts, or it's round some bend in the road that I take them for a ride. My ambition is to park it within three feet o' the log. Amazed, I pointed out to the dealer that the doomed ve-hicle had _zero_ dents, **nada** dings, and I sure liked all the zilch prangs, but I'd fix that well before the ten-second extendin' warranty was expirin. . . ." 
**  
**

240. Imperil All? He'd never Fess to That

Fess Parker'd be the first to fess up, soon,

To playing manly role of Daniel Boone

On TV, and as soon, if he'd your ear,

Fess up he'd played "king of the wild frontier"

Hunk Davy Crockett on that medium,

Then go right on, past point of tedium,

To Fessing up to quite the very least

(As if you were his own fess-up-to priest)

Of peccadillos—freely, all, admitted,

Cardinal sins, too, that he'd committed.

Fess, he'd own up, broad daylight or darker

To his being "one darned _nosy_ parker."

One thing, though, he'd never fess up to

(Just as no woman driver'd _ever_ do)

Is fess up, by confessional remarking,

"When it comes to parallel-type parking

_I imperil all_ —I'm quite the _worst!_ "

No, he'd con, "I am _parallel_ " the first

Mad soul he struck, to, with the introduction,

**Steer clear fault, he, peril-all con- _struck_ tion**.

"Well now, Mr. Ken Lay was demonstratin' faulty parallelism; Miss Dorothy Parker was demonstratin' faulty parallelism; and I sure like the way Sarah Jessie Car-Parker looks," Fess fessed up dreamily. "I'll bet she'd love my bein' tall, strappin', and I am a gorgeous hunk too. But to be honest, to be a square shooter, and I'm not so parallel myself, I ought to have fessed, 'Mr. Ken Lay was demonstratin' faulty parallelism; Miss Dorothy Parker was demonstratin' faulty parallelism; and Ms. Sarah Jessie Car-Parker was demonstratin' good looks,' plus 'I'll bet she'd love my bein' a tall, strappin', gorgeous hunk too.' Now I'm fair to middlin' come to parkin' my coonskin cap on my head; parkin' my buckskin breeches on a log; and I can't parallel park my Furrari to save my soul. When it comes to the latter, I drive most all folks crazy, drive them nuts, or it's right round some bend in the road that I take them for a joy ride. My ambition is to park it within three feet o' the log. If there's one thing I've learned in all my years o' drivin' it's ( _a_ ) to violate not just one, and break _all_ the rules of the road, and 2) to imperil all when I'm parkin', whether they're in front of me, if I'm ahead o' them, or they can darned well take either one o' my sides in the accident, plus preferr'bly both. Hence, my coonskin-radiator-capped Furrari is in a bad way and not good lookin'. I bought it from a dealer and with one o' them there ten-second extendin' warranties. Amazed, I pointed out to him that the doomed ve-hicle had _zero_ dents, **nada** dings, and I sure liked all the zilch prangs, but I'd soon fix that well before the warranty was expirin.' I said he should take a 'before' Kodiak while the paint job's sparklin', glistenin', and the tires were all flat black. He told me I could drive it out through the left, right, or be smashing through the center showroom window. So I did."

**Avoid setting off a phrase as a sentence**

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** **

****

_It's Judgment Day, and Teamsters Boss_ ** _James Riddle Hoffa_** _pulls a long face at his sentencing. Only God's is longer._

"God, _wait!_ There's something more I want to say. About my __ innocence _._ " _Yea, Hoffa, that is your greatest crime—for which you should be sent straight to Hell. Setting off a phrase as a sentence. Jehoshaphat! You've got me_ ****_doing it now. Trying to pass off a group of words without a subject or predicate, if not both, as a sentence. God Almighty—I've just done it again. Wherefore am I going to give you three chances to stop hellishly setting off phrases as sentences. That's two more than I, a vengeful God, gave myself . . ._
**  
**

241. Each Phrase That He Passed Off Begot a Sentence

Thug/Teamsters Leader Jimmy Riddle Hoffa,

Charged with pension fraud was philosphi-

cal: "The charge should, since it can't, throughout,

Be proved beyond a reasonable doubt

(Yes, it's a riddle where the money went),

Be dropped, and I? Presumed, Judge, innocent."

_Yes, **sent** , indeed—you crook!—sent straight to Hell!_

The sentencing Judge thought but didn't spell

Out . . . then, for he bethought himself to say

These words in _deeds_ upon said Judgment Day.

_'Presumed, Judge, innocent'—indeed! These Days_

_That's your—that's **each** defendant's—go-to phrase,_

The wroth Almighty Judge was moved to say

In deeds, for come was Hoffa's Judgment Day

—And sentence came down _hard_ on Hoffa's head:

_Presumed, Judge, innocent! Presumed: you're **dead**!_

Poof! Hoffa disappeared without a trace.

James Hoffa riddle: Where upon earth's face?

_Or did a wrathful God express this sent-hence:_

**_Don't set Hoffa phrase as a_** _**Hell** _**_sentence_** _?_

_"Wait!"_ Hoffa cried as he was about to be sent-henced. "There's something more I want to say. About my _innocence._ " The Almighty Judge waxed yet more wroth and so bespake himself: _Yea, verily, that is your greatest crime—for which you, you grammatical loafer, should be sent straight to Hell. Setting off a phrase as a sentence. Jehoshaphat! You've got me_ ****_doing it now. Trying to pass off a group of words without a subject or predicate—if not both—as a sentence. God Almighty—I've just done it again. But that is why I'm the God of Mercy. To be forgiving. God, damn my fool hide! I can't stop doing it now. Lucky for me I am a forgiving God. And since I am, thank God, it would be less than Godly of me not to give you, James Riddle Hoffa, a second chance to save your near-damned soul._ _Wherefore am I going to give you three chances to stop setting off phrases as sentences. And that's two more than I gave myself. Speak unto me—in sentences._ Whereupon Hoffa spake: "Oh, God, I leave out a subject or predicate here or there. But is it not written that Hoffa loaf is better than none? Even among so many?" _That's one_, God spake. "Saints preserve me! Only _two_ more chances to prove my innocence and redeem myself in your eyes, if not the eyes of the no-less-harshly-judgmental world, and save face (not a very sympathetic one in most people's eyes), and spare myself eternal damnation, and save my, to quote your own damnifying words (spoken in the heat of the moment), _damned soul._ " _That's two_, God thundered. "Oh, God, it's just not fair. Your having pronounced such harsh, vengeful, unmerciful sentence upon me." _That's three_, __ God spake ominously. _One more, and it's purgatory._ "O most merciful God, forgive me, for I have sinned. All through my long and chequered life period—" And that was the last the world saw of James Riddle Hoffa.

**Avoid correcting a fused sentence by placing a comma between its parts**

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** **

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_Convicted anarchists_ ** _Nicola Sacco and Bartolomeo Vanzetti_** _warm up with a few easily correctible fused sentences before "penning" the ultimate one, which no one can correct._

"But what about our wrongly taken _lives_? Are you saying 'What's done is done you can't unscramble eggs there's no sense crying over spilled milk let dead bygones be bygones it could be worse don't make a mountain out of a molehill'?" "What _clever_ dead boys you are. We avoid 'correcting' a fused sentence by placing a calm _Aw-w-w-w!_ between its parts: your wrongfully executed hearts. Your own death sentence, in which independent clauses were not 'corrected' by placing a comma between its parts, was just as fatal. . . ."
**  
**

242. They Fused in Death Just As They Did in Life

**DEATH _._ SENTENCED TO DIE BY ELECTRIC CHAIR**

For murder, Sacco's, then Vanzetti's hair

Was stood on _end_ on August 23,

Year '27, volt revoltingly,

For parts their two black hearts played in the deaths

Of two. The witnesses all held their breaths.

"We're innocent!" Vanzetti, Sacco cried

Up to the end. The executer fried

Their black hearts. Justice, hearing the "Dead" news,

Thanked God its system hadn't blown a fuse.

**HEARTS FUSED IN DEATH. FRIED, SACCO AND VANZETTI.**

In a _wrongly_ _executed_ sweat, he,

Pol Dukakis, took pains to 'correct'

The two black hearts the jolts at their core wrecked,

Fused, fifty years gone: "Boys, this _Aw-w-w-w!_ 's long owed ya.

Hear my fifty-years-late _Aw-w-w-w!_ 'pol'ogia:

Sacco— _aw-w-w-w!_ —Vanzetti, pardon me

For saying _aw-w-w-w!_ excitedly, since we

**Avoid 'correcting' a fused sentence** , hearts,

**By placing a calm Aw-w-w-w! between its parts.**

"You see, boys," Governor Dukakis went on 'a pol'ogizing in '77 it was fifty years after Sacco and Vanzetti had been wrongly executed for murdering a paymaster and a security guard it was a robbery gone bad. "Simply by throwing a switch on a fuse, we, the people, fused your innocent hearts together in infamy we're very good at con-fusing condemned convicts together that way witness Julius and Ethel Rosenberg in '53 as well as Richard Hickock and Perry Smith in '65." "But what about our wrongly taken _lives_?" the fused spirits of Sacco and Vanzetti cry as one, "Are you saying 'What's done is done you can't unscramble eggs there's no sense crying over spilled milk let dead bygones be bygones it could be worse don't make a mountain out of a molehill'?" "What _clever_ dead boys you are that's _exactly_ what I am saying! You've just witnessed how we the good-hearted folk avoid 'correcting' a fused sentence by placing a calm _aw-w-w-w!_ between it parts, which in your case were your wrongfully executed hearts (the autopsy showed they were _black_ ) fused together in death as well as infamy we must all fry together or surely we shall fry separately. And of course you've seen how painfully slow we were to carry out the most unjust _death sentence_ it's a sentence in which independent clauses are not separated by a comma (a faulty comma splice) let alone a correct semicolon or period so the reader thus doesn't know where one thought ends and the next begins. Yet we good-hearted folk _love_ the fused sentence it's so final so we'll go right on fusing them together and now, Sacco and Vanzetti, on behalf of all of us, since your black hearts were so wrongly executed in fusion, it gives me great pleasure to grant you this late official pardon you are both fully _exonerated_ , in fusion, of murd—eh? Will I give you your _lives_ back? No, I must refuse."
**  
**

**Avoid dangling elliptical clauses**

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** **

****

_Supermodel_ ** _Elle McPherson_** _tantalizingly dangles her lips for pay._

"Oh, Elle, how we _long_ for your lips to Elle-lip-tickle us! Though longing to be kissed, your super mod-Elle lips tickle us not. There, _you see_? You dangle your lips before us so tantalizingly that we men achingly dangle our _elliptical clauses_ out there, hoping you'll plant a kiss on them and make them better. Won't you make them better? _Though we are longing to be kissed, your super mod-Elle lips tickle us not_. Oh, Elle, that felt _so_ right. __ As you know, Elle, an ellipsis is an omission. And yours are some kind of E-lips, sis . . ."
**  
**

243. She Dangled Forth Her Lips Elliptically

"Champ cover-girl, Sports Illustrated Swimsuit

Issue, five-times-much-uncovered himsuit,

Six-foot _something_ , Aussie supermodel

Modeling her choice Down Under bod, Elle

(Eleanor) McPherson (men, you see,

We sigh her name with such great longing we

All sigh 'Mc- _FEAR_ -son!' knowing, with our long e,

Short e for her six feet would be _wrong_ e)

Dangles now, for Dangling Bros. Sir-kiss,

Her sweet lips before us longing her kiss

"Working us up so we'll buy from her

Sweet kisses planted on our lips Mac-per.

We close our eyes and dangle forth our lips. . . .

Hers tickle _not_ their so long longing tips!

She _blows_ us each a kiss—from far away,

All dangling—in the air—for all our pay!

We read the fine print in the _con_ tract . . . woe!

Each clause therein says, ' _Dumb men!_ Don't you know

"She'll _tick all_ lips off, Elle." **Avoid** [it causes

sighing] **dangling Elle-lip-tick-all clauses**.'

"Oh, Elle, how we _long_ for your lips to Elle-lip-tickle us! Though longing to be kissed, your super mod-Elle lips tickle us not. There, _you see_? You dangle your lips before us so tantalizingly that we can't help dangling our _elliptical clauses_ on out there, hoping you'll at least plant a kiss on them and make them better. Won't you make them better? _Though we are longing to be kissed, your super mod-Elle lips tickle us not_. Oh, Elle, that just felt so . . . so _right_. __ As you know, Elle, an ellipsis is an omission. And yours are some kind of E-lips, sis—on _some_ kind of oh!-mission. Beautiful Ellelusion, we men are all masters of such elliptical clauses in which the subject or verb or both have been ellipsised out. Look: When children, our mothers used to kiss us on the lips. Oh, _please_ , Elle, do kiss it better. _When we were children, our mothers used to kiss us on the lips. _Yes! That's just what we needed. It feels _so_ right! Can we tell you something personal, Elle? Our fathers, who all dangled their lips before our mothers and said 'I do,' used to tell us, 'If held just so, one can get no end of love from a warm, cuddly ball of fur.' Oh, please, Elle, do it again. _If a warm, cuddly ball of fur is held just so, one can get . . . ._ Oh! the Right Bros. never had it so right, Elle! Yet in so loving those warm, cuddly balls of fur, we boys-into-men always found that there _was_ an end to the love: Though just boys then, our puppies kissed us on the lips. Now dirty dogs, our lips are no longer puppy-kissed. Oh, _please_ , Elle, kiss and make everything better. _Though we were just boys then, our puppies . . . . Now that our puppies are dirty dogs, our lips . . . ._ Oh, yes, Elle, that just feels _so_ unelliptically right. But, dang it, Elle, men, we fantasy—oh how we sigh!—that you'll just pucker on up and Elle-lip-tickly kiss _our_ lips, sis, instead of kissing all our dumb old, lucky ellipses better."

**Watch out for misplaced appositive**

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** **

****

_Scarlett O'Hara is a positive southern belle that_ ** _Rhett Butler_** _disastrously misplaces his._

"Although you need kissing badly, Scarlett, by someone who knows how to kiss you, a real man." "You Dixie dimwit, Rhett, the so-called 'handsome, dashing privateer' and the alleged 'real man,' the conceited appositives, are in apposition to _you_ , a thickheaded southern beau—not me! Still, I love you, Rhett Butler, a love-mad southern belle— _damn it!_ Now you've got _me_ misplacing my appositives." "My dear, I swear I don't know where you got such a potty mouth. I'm leaving you, a red-eared red-faced man . . ." 
**  
**

244. Misplaced Appositives: His Went à Miss

"The southern belle of swell plantation _Tara_ ,

I would kiss you, Scarlett, Miss O'Hara,

Could I be a positive man you,

Miss Scarlett, thought it something I should do,"

Rhett butler wooed. "I wouldn't mind it so

So terribly," Miss Scarlett said, "but—oh!

I shouldn't _like_ to kiss a southern belle

Appositively _Rhett_ —read _you_ —as well.

I'd not want to receive—nor you to give—

That kiss lest _I_ might be appositive:

" 'The southern belle of swell plantation _Tara_ '

Should be _me_ , the _un_ kissed Miss O'Hara,

And not you, Rhett Butler—don't you see?

The one to be 'a positive' is _me_ :

Look, you've placed me, Miss Scarlett, in _your_ place,

And given you, Rhett—a _miss_ —scarlet face.

You'd not have got your red face in this jam

—And I'd be _kissed_ if you'd just give a damn

About such kisses you propose to give,

And **Watch out for Miss-placed 'a positive**.' "

"Negative, I don't think I will kiss you, a handsome, dashing privateer—although you need kissing badly. That's what's wrong with you. You should be kissed, and often—and by someone who knows how to kiss you, a real man." "I'm surprised you didn't go whole hog and make me 'a positive man,' too, since you so failed of making an _appositive_ man of _southern belle_ me." "Did I, my dear? I could have sworn I made an appositive man of you, a man much given to swearing." "Sir, you are no gentleman!" "And you, Miss, are no lady." "Well small wonder the way you, appositive _Rhett Butler,_ make me out. So let me straighten you out: the so-called 'handsome, dashing privateer' and the alleged 'real man,' and especially the 'man given to much swearing' are all in apposition to _you_ —not me!" "My dear, if you will only consult the record you will plainly see that I attributed every one of those appositives to 'you' and not to me." "You Dixie dimwit, Rhett Butler, that's just what's wrong with you! You haven't sense enough to place your appositives immediately after or before the noun or substantive they are in apposition to in order to prevent the ludicrous results you've a scandalous reputation for. And that's something I, appositive _Miss Scarlett_ , am surely a positive, YES, southern belle about." "With enough courage you can do without reputation." "I only know that I love you, Rhett Butler, a love-mad southern belle— _damn it!_ Now you've got _me_ misplacing my appositives." "My dear, I swear I don't know where you learn such potty-mouth words. I'm leaving you, a red-eared red-faced man." " _Rhett_ , if you go, where shall I go? . . . what ever shall I do?" "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a positive darn about you, a shocked, appalled, revolted, repelled __ man." And he was gone with the wind, a scandalized, _sickened_ ex-southern beau.

**Properly position words such as _even_ , _hardly_ , _not only_ , _scarcely_**

**__**

** **

**__**

**_Lee "Lt. Ballinger" Marvin_** _testifies in the palimony trial brought by former live-in pal Michelle Triola._

"I'd safely positioned myself by not signing a prenup, so splitsville in no wise positioned me for _splits_ ville. End of story. I was just as careful in positioning my adverbs too: Did I say, 'Everything I own I'll split **even** with you'? No, I said, 'Everything _I_ own. I'll **even** _split_ with you.' Did I say, 'I will **hardly ever** leave your side'? No! I said, 'I, **hard** **Lee** , will leave your side—for **ever** _._ ' Did I say, 'I would **scarcely** be one to leave you penniless'? _Hardly!_ I said, 'To leave you penniless, I would be one **scarce Lee**.' " . . . 
**  
**

245. Prop-Herly Positioned He Was Not

Lee (tough guy) Marvin's "pal" Michelle Triola,

Dumped, filed suit for pal-o'-mine payola,

Breach of oral contract: "Hon, no pauper

Will you be as my gal-live-in. Copper,

I will prop you up for life; you'll be

Kept handsome-Lee. I'll treat you proper," Lee,

_Lieutenant Ballinger_ , __ cop out to cure

Injustice, swore. Now he'd copped out on her.

Ex-pal, she sued for beau-coup palimony.

Lee sued back: "Her suit's sore-gal baloney.

"What I said was I would **hardly** prop her

Up; I **scarcely** said I'd **even** drop her

—When I did. She does **not own** me! Clean up?

She? No, pal-wise, I signed no such prenup,

_Never_ placed one 'word' within one." Said

The jury, _"_ No? Well then no single red

Cent will the plaintiff get; defendant Marvin,

Tough-guy smart, was 'wise' to leave her _starvin'_ ,

**Prop-her-Lee position words like ' _hard_ -Lee,'**

**' _Scarce_ -Lee,' ' _even_ ,' and ' _not-own_ ' Lee**, 'pard' Lee!"

"If working Vice taught me one thing," Lee said on the palimony witness stand, "it's that position is everything in a relationship. See, I'd already safely positioned _myself_ by not signing a prenup, so I went right to work on my adverbs, putting every one in the safest possible position in their loving relationship with their live-in verbs, just so there'd be no misunderstanding. Anything less would have been a fell-on-knee vice. Take, for instance, the difference position makes in the following sentences with just one adverb, **only** :

**Only** my so-called pal expected me to keep her in palimony, should we ever split.

My **only** so-called pal expected me to keep her in palimony, should we ever split.

My so-called pal **only** expected me to keep her in palimony, should we ever split.

My so-called pal expected **only** me to keep her in palimony, should we ever split.

My so-called pal expected me to keep **only** her in palimony, should we ever split.

My so-called pal expected me to keep her in palimony __**only**. Should we ever split?

_NO!_ of course we shouldn't ever split. She and I had no prenup, so splitsville in no wise positioned me for _splits_ ville. End of story. I was just as careful in positioning my other adverbs too: Did I say, 'Everything I own I'll split **even** with you'? No, I said, 'Everything _I_ own. I'll **even** _split_ with you.' Did I say, 'I will **hardly ever** leave your side'? No! I said, 'I, **hard** **Lee** , will leave your side—for **ever** _._ ' Did I say, 'I would **scarcely** be one to leave you penniless'? Not on your life! I said, 'To leave you penniless, I would be one **scarce Lee**.' " It didn't take the all-female jury long: "It is our finding that one so careful in positioning his adverbs can **hardly** , **scarcely** be expected to split **even** with his pal. We award Michelle _every_ red cent! Is that our **only** position? No, it's our position **own Lee**."

**Avoid a squinting modifier**

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** **

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_Squinting ma-defier_ ** _Mr. Magoo_** _takes out his latest defeat on nephew "Waldo."_

" _Waldo!_ Where are you now, confound your raccoon-coated hide? Look here, I wanted to say, 'A _bop_ on the nose **frequently** makes me mad!' " "Well, so much for avoiding a squinting modifier." "Eh? What's a squinting modifier?" "It's a mid-sentence modifier, like **frequently** , that's looking both ways in the sentence trying to figure out which word it's supposed to modify: 'Am I supposed to be modifying _bop_ (a frequent bop on the nose makes me mad) or makes (a single bop on the nose frequently makes me mad)?' . . ."
**  
**

246. He couldn't Dodge a Squinting Modifier

Old, cranky, squinty-eyed, nearsighted Mr.

Gilbert Godfried–eyed Magoo, resister

(Optometrics), would not suffer that

Without them he was blinder than a bat.

"What, _glasses_? Take away their damned assistance!"

He'd rail, lash out, such was his resistance,

With his cane, at what he couldn't see

[Swish!]. "Can't you see I—hah!—see _perfectly_?

Take _that_!" One day Magoo, with slashing swishes,

Went so far as to defy his _Mrs._

—And he paid: "Ma" bopped him one good blow

Upon his bulbous, cartoon-big shnozzo-

la [Bop!] whereon Magoo, swell-nosed curmudgeon

[ _Swish!_ ] went at the world, his cane a bludgeon.

Raccoon-coated nephew Waldo, seeing

This cane mutiny, was wisely fleeing,

As was seeing- _Ai!_ canine McBarker,

Dodging wildly flailing nosy parker.

Native instinct told them [ _swish!_ ] be spryer,

And **Avoid a squinting Ma-defier**.

"Waldo! . . . _Waldo!_ " Mr. Magoo bellowed out, "Where are you now [ _swish!_ ], confound your raccoon-coated hide?" "I'm over here, Uncle Squincy, safely avoiding a squinting Ma-defier." "Look here," the nearsighted mutineer said, squinting into the blur, "I wanted to say, 'A _bop_ on the nose **frequently** makes me mad!' " "Well, so much for avoiding a squinting modifier," Waldo sighed. "Eh, what's that? What's a squinting modifier?" "It's a mid-sentence modifier, Uncle, like **frequently** , which you just used, that's looking both ways in the sentence trying hard to figure out which word it's supposed to modify: 'Am I supposed to be modifying _bop_ (a frequent bop on the nose makes me mad) or makes (a single bop on the nose frequently makes me mad)?' " "Confounded nephews who go to school **often** learn [ _swish!_ ] way too much." "Yes, **often** is another one: 'Am I supposed to modify go (go to school often **)** or learn **(** often learn)?' " "Well I say this: defining your modifiers **clearly** makes you an egghead." " _Now_ you're truly squinting, Uncle Squincy; **clearly** is another Magood example: 'Am I supposed to be modifying defining (clearly defining your modifiers) or makes (clearly makes you an egghead)?' " "Look here, I told Ma Magoo **when I finished giving the world a good caning** I would see to taking her for a Sunday drive." "An entire squinting clause! No one in the world squints as Magood as you do Uncle Squincy: 'Am I supposed to be modifying told (when I'd finished giving the world a good caning I told her) or see (I'd see to taking her for a Sunday drive when I'd finished giving the world a good caning)?' " "I said **at 12 o'clock** I would call her. We agreed **after she bopped me a good one on the nose** I'd take out the trash. But then, confound it, she who was gesticulating **wildly** bopped me [ _swish!_ ] another Magood one."

**Avoid rambling sentences containing too many unnecessary details**

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** **

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_A young Bob Dylan can't help smiling at how mentor_ ** _Ramblin' Jack Elliott_** _keeps adding colorful, if unnecessary, details to his rambling narratives._

". . . Then there was that time down to the bayous of Looziana. This was in the summer of '68 as I recall, and the skeeters was so big I took 'em for large hummin' birds. So I applied me a man-size dose of diethyl-m-toluamide, a colorless, oily liquid better known as DEET (C12H17NO), meaning it contains a 12-pack of carbon, 17 shots of hydrogen, and a clearly undisclosed emphatical amount of NO, which ingredyent I can get from near 'bout any gal just by askin' her a plain simple question. Anyways, that there DEET . . ."
**  
**

247. They Walked Out to Avoid the Rambling Sentence

No, Ramblin' Jack E. never got his handle

From his ramblin' travels 'cross the land all

Over, but for how he'd never fail

To wander the whole landscape of a tale

That he was singin', startin' with his driftin's,

Drivin', discontents, desires, shiftin's,

Dalliances, his day and nightlong dreamin's,

Decadences, dramas, devils, demons,

Drinkin', downin' drugs, the dread D. T.'s,

Don't-once-you're-grabbed-let-go dependencies,

Debts, down-and-out, drown-all-your-sorrows blues

He sang, the dog's life, doles of payin' dues,

The dames, dives, dead ends, doubts, dumps he was ill in,

Dog days, how he'd mentored young Bob Dylan,

Long before he thought, ol' Ramblin' Jack,

To get his E. tail off the ramblin' track

Of what it was he'd started out to say,

So one hard learned, one's ear bent like to stay:

**Steer clear of Ramblin' sentences** [Jack E. tales]

**Full of** yawn . . . nod . . . z-z-z-z-z-z-z-z] [**too many d-tales**.

". . . Then there was that time down to the bayous of Looziana," Ramblin' Jack Elliott went on. "This was in the summer of '68 as I recall, and the skeeters was so big I took 'em for large hummin' birds. So I applied me a man-size dose of diethyl-m-toluamide, a colorless, oily liquid better known as DEET (C12H17NO), meaning it contains a 12-pack of carbon, 17 shots of hydrogen, and a clearly undisclosed emphatical amount of NO, which ingredyent I can get from near 'bout any gal just by askin' her a plain simple question. Anyways, that there DEET, which has got itself a mild odor, went to work repellin' them 'forementioned skeeters, though I don't know why I ever said there was only four of 'em when in fact there was liter'lly _millions_ of the overgrown comma-causies tryin' their confoundedest to leave me their infectional callin' cards, and suck my blood, a fluid consistin' of plazma, cells, and platelets, wee little plates on which oxygen and neuterents are served up to the body tissues. They're callin' 'em comma-causies 'cause, not bein' DEETerred, they're notorious for causin' a body mal-arias and the West Nigh-all Viruses, which are enough to give any body pause. Now it wasn't DEET's odor that was keepin' them comma-causies, now as big as robins, off o' me, but its knack of confoundin' their ability to detect the carbon die-oxide we emit, which is how they zero in on us. Which reminds me of the time I had DEET on and shot down 89 Jap Zeroes single-handed with my gover'ment-issue Colt 45 (M1911A1) which fires a 325-grain hard-cast lead bullet at 1300.572 feet per secon—say, where's everybody goin'?" "Sorry, Ramblin' Jack," one hastily departing ex-fan shot back over his shoulder, "we love to hear you ramble, really we do, but lately your sentences all suffer, as we do, from a swarm of bloody DEET tales."

**Avoid inaccurate coordination**

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** **

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_1898:_ ** _Madame_** _and **Pierre Curie**_ _make a Nobel Prize-winning co-discovery._

"Pierre, we have co-discovered _radioactive cocktails_ —" " **because** we suffer inaccurate coordination, Madame." "Pierre, you mean ' **consequently** we suffer . . . .' Conjunctions should show a logical relationship of ideas." "I agree, **then** mine do show illogical relationship of ideas." " _Imbécile!_ You should have said, 'I agree, **and** mine do show illogical. . . .' Really now, Pierre, for a simpleton who co-discovered radium, **but** co-received the Nobel Priz—" " _You_ should talk, Madame Pot-calling-the-reactor-black. . . ." 
**  
**

248. Coordinate Conjunction Theirs Was Not

French physicists Pierre and Madame Curie,

Vouchsafed the Nobel Prize by a jury

For their brilliant co-discovery

Of radium (the year 1903),

Co-thought: "The only thing Nobel could laud

Left us is but to co-discover God."

So bent on this were they, to co-assure it,

They became Pierre and Madame _Curate_

With one aim: be co-ordained (Prize feast)

A _two_ -for-the-Nobel-Prize-of-one priest.

As all do who would wear the priestly frock,

They promptly looked for God beneath a rock.

Like all the flock, they didn't find him there,

So they looked high and low and everywhere.

"There's but," they co-sighed, "one thing left us: woo

The Pope to get our twofer co-priest due,

And so find God." The Pope Nobel-denied

Them. "I can't co-make two _a_ priest!" he fied.

"You see, it says right here in Revel _a_ -shun:

**Shun, in a Curate, co-ordination**."

"Well now isn't that a kick in _les dents_ ," Madame Curate seethed. "Here we go and get ourselves conjoined in _le marriage_ in order to acquire the necessary conjunction—and the Pope has _l'audace_ to tell us, both, he can't co-ordinate us, priestwise!" " _Oui,_ " Pierre co-fumed. "His lame excuse was he couldn't make a 2-in-1 priest of you and me, **and** he had to avoid, in a Curate, co-ordination." "Unlike you, Pierre, who would never dream of avoiding inaccurate coordination." "What do you mean, Madame? _"_ "I mean, Pierre, that you should have said, '. . . he couldn't make a 2-in-1 priest of us **because** he had to avoid, in a Curate, co-ordination.' Conjunctions should show a logical relationship of ideas." "I agree, **then** mine do show illogical relationship of ideas." " _Imbécile!_ You should have said, 'I agree, **and** mine do show illogical. . . .' Really now, Pierre, for a simpleton who co-discovered radium, **but** co-received the Nobel prize for—" " _You_ should talk, Madame Pot-calling-the-reactor-black. You should have said, '. . . **and** co-received the Nobel—' " "I did that to point out your uncoordinated error; **henceforth** , you are a big dunderhead." "You mean '. . . **furthermore** , you are a big dunderhead.' " "I couldn't have said it any better myself." "And what do you mean by _that_?" "I mean you couldn't discover the right conjunction, **or** could you dis—" "You mean '. . . **nor** could you. . . .' " "I mean if brains were nuclear fission, **and** you had a _grand_ splitting headache—" "Now _that_ sounds like a coordinated _attaque_ upon my intelligence." " _Non_ , it sounds like I wouldn't co-discover strontium 90 with you **besides** you were the last nuclearpoop on Earth." "You mean '. . . **if** you were the last _nincompoop_ ' _—_ " "You said it, **and** instead of bicker—" " ** _But_** instead of bickering let's coordinate our efforts to get the _nincompope_ to make us a 2-in-1 priest."

**Avoid a mixed or double comparison**

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** **

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_In hiply stylish Beetle jackets, the_ ** _Dung Beetles_** _, George Harris-Dung, Paul McDungney, Dungo Starr, and Dung Lennon, snub a drably attired VW bug in high fashion as they cross Abbey Road._

" 'Ere, lads, us bein' a mix of dor beetles,'ow about if I were to sing, _The Beetles are as popular, if not more popular, than Jesus?_ " "Gor, you're _roight_ , Dung, that is a mixed-dor double comparison. Yer should've sung, _The Beetles are as popular as, if not more popular than, Jesus._ ' " "Better, Paul [the cute Dung Beetle], _The Beetles are as popular as Jesus, if not more popular._ " "Roight, George, we'd _really_ be flyin' 'igh then, wouldn't we, lads?" "Yeah yeah yeah." "And you know _that_ can't be bad." "Yeah yeah yeah. . . ." 
**  
**

249. Comparisons Are Odious When Mixed

"The Beetles [swoon] are so a _dor_ able,"

Crazed Beetles fans screamed. "We agree in full,"

Loud critics sang in paean to the four.

"Each European Beetle _is_ a dor:

A—pyoo! _—Dung_ Beetle, Europe's own, that flies

With droning sound so 'high' up in the skies;

One _Geotrupes stercorarius_ ,

A bug-me of such wholly various

Mixed breeds of it, what rolls off each one's tongue

Is purely, wholly European dung

" _—Pyoo!_ Furthermore, each No. Dung hit 'song'

These droning Beetle bombs drone all day long

And all night is so 'yeah, yeah, yeah'ly flubbed,

That all the world their high-pitched drone has dubbed

_'Too pyoo!tiful for words!'_ Oh yes, they're dor lads.

Now take the adorable fab Four Ladds—"

_"BUGGERS!"_ Beetles fans had had enough,

And seized these critics by their Four Ladds scruff.

"We'll teach you to **Avoid** [plop! almost done]

**A mixed-dor dub-all** flush!] [**comparison**."

" 'Ere, lads," Dung Lennon, leader of the "Fab Dor," chirped excitedly as the critics were catching the porcelain subway. "This all gives me a bleedin' good idear for a mixed or double comparison." "What in 'ell is _that_ then, Dung?" Paul McDungney (the cute Dung Beetle) trilled. "Well it's kind of a sin-tactical mishmash, i'n't it? where a bloke is tryin' to compare two things in the same statement, and he makes a roight royal mess-up of it." "Sounds like an Octopus's breakfast to me," Dungo Starr chirred. " 'Ere, Dung," George Harris-Dung stridulated gaily, "why don't yer toss your mixed idear on the floor and see if the dog laps it up." "Look, the 'ole bloomin' world's gone barmy over us Dung Beetles, 'aven't they?" Dung chirruped. "Yeah." "Yeah." "Yeah." "And you know that can't be _bad_." "Yeah." "Yeah." "Yeah." "Well 'ow about if I were to sing out, _The Beetles are as popular, if not more popular, than Jesus?_ " "Gor, you're _roight_ , Dung," Paul cricked. "That _is_ a roight royal sin-tactical mishmash. The 'ole English-speakin' world would cry, 'Yer should've sung, _The Beetles are as popular as, if not more popular than, Jesus._ ' " "Better yet," George droned, " _The Beetles are as popular as Jesus, if not more popular._ " "We'd _really_ be in the loimeloight then, lads," Dungo chirked. "And if they should ever stop crucifyin' us," Dung creaked, "I'd sing out _, Rock 'n' roll is one of the greatest, if not the greatest, religion in the world._ " "Now you're _singin',_ Dung," Paul chittered. "They'd all cry, 'Yer should've sung, _Rock 'n' roll is one of the greatest religions in the world—if not the greatest._ ' " "Yeah." "Yeah." "Yeah." "Then I'd sing _'appiness is as 'appy as, or 'appier, than a warm gun_ ," Dung churred, "and wouldn't us 'igh-flyin' Dung Beetles, in Beetle boots/jackets/dungarees—'it the bloomin' fans then?" _"Yeah!" "Yeah!" "Yeah!"_

**Vary the form and length of sentences**

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** **

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_Former heavyweight boxing champ, TV's highest-paid pitchman,_ ** _George Foreman_** _pitches his patented George Foreman Grill to world boxing champ Laila Ali._

"If she's a simple opponent, I'll pop her one with a simple sentence: 'You're beautyful.' When we've gone out a few times and she wants to compound my troubles by havin' me make a commitment, I'll hit her with a compound sentence: 'You ain't only beautyful, you're brainy.' When she hints at marriage, which would complicate my life, I give her one stiff uppercut of a complex sentence: 'When we met, did you ever dream I was gonna grow on you?' See, you gotta keep varyin' the form and length of your sentences . . ."
**  
**

250. They Knocked His Form and Length; They Didn't vary

Pro boxing heavyweight champ "Big George" Foreman,

Legendary knock-'em-to-the-floor man,

Traded in his mouthpiece for the more

Rewarding chance to be the mouthpiece for

(Joke) _mufflers_ for the Meineke chain; he

Went on to talk them up on prime TV

Where pitched-to's saw his greatest pitching strength

Was sentences of different form and length;

Saw George become, with sentence variation,

"Knockout Mufflers®" pitch champ of the nation;

Saw the same with his George Foreman® Grill:

"Knock-Out-The-Fat®." George, his own grill-champ shill,

Boxed pitched-to's' ears with tried/true pitching norm

Of varied sentences in length and form.

George then mouthpieced it up for Big and Tall

Clothes "with the knockout Comfort Zone™ and all"

For Casual Male shops across the land

The same way. George: "I learned, with each hawked brand,

Each change of sentence with its spent tense says,

'George, **Vary Foreman length of sentences**.'

"See, you've gotta keep your opponent, the little woman you're tryin' to sell something, off her feet," Big George, TV's highest paid pitchperson, said to the hushed gathering of ad executives. "This is all the truer when you're tryin' to sell yourself. If I see she's a plain, simple opponent, I'll pop her one with a simple sentence: 'You're beautyful.' Then when we've gone out a few times and I've sold her on what a big lovable palooka I am, and she wants to compound my troubles by havin' me make a commitment to her, I'll hit her with a compound sentence: 'You ain't only beautyful, you're brainy.' When she gets to hintin' at marriage, which would complicate my single life terrible, I give the gorgeous mug one stiff uppercut of a complex sentence: 'When we met, did you ever dream that I, 6' 4", 230 lb, was gonna grow on you?' At this point, if she begins to drop kids into the conversation, which would compound my troubles horrible, and give me a _run_ -get-out-of-the-ring! complex, I'll deliver her my haymaker, a compound-complex sentence: 'If you could just love me to pieces, would you do it, or would you keep me together as one big, lovable teddy bear?' You get the picture? You keep varyin' the form and length of your sentences, and this is true if you're talkin' or writin' down to her. So you won't be telegraphin' your blows, and she won't know what to expect next. It never fails. I should know; it worked for me all five times—and I've got the ten kids to show for it. And to this day it floors me that I didn't win a one of those heavyweight title matches—hands down. I can't figure out what went wrong. I _should_ 've won them all. They were all plain, simple lightweights next to me. I don't know, maybe it had somethin' to do with the fact that each gorgeous one a them I saw a fit to go up against just plain and simple knocked me out."

**Make sentence transitions clear by using transitional words and phrases**

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** **

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Almighty Voice: __**_London Bombers_**, _before you blew up three trains and a bus you thought you were going to Heaven and 72 virgins; **now** you find yourselves in eternal Hell—with 72 versions. That is your sentence. Have I made its transition clear? _Damn! God _is_ great. __

"Londoners, I _implore_ you to make the relationship between your statements before the bombs exploded, and those made after, clear by using a subordinating conjunction: 'I am petrified of taking the subway **because** there may be more homicide bombers'; a relative pronoun: 'I besoil myself at the thought of riding the double-deckers, **which** are sitting ducks'; a personal pronoun: 'Suicide bombers want to kill us— **we** who want to live'; a demonstrative pronoun: 'Life means zero to them, **these** bastards who kill children' . . ."
**  
**

251. BOOM! Londoners Made Their Transitions Clear

Date: 7th of July, 2005.

Place: London, morning rush. Still much alive,

Four homicide-bent bombers get on board

Three undergrounds, a bus with all the horde;

More yet, with backpacks and one hijacked God,

They get on board, each one, with their _Jihad_.

Then, in four vaporizing fireballs,

What holy war unleashes ( _Death!_ ) appalls.

Transition: those that live now live, it's clear,

In terror. Londoners know abject fear.

Now "bicycle," now "hoof it on shank's pony"

One hears for the frightful testimony:

"We were trans- _sit sitting ducks!_ "—O Londoners!

Ask, "Are we not terrorism _un_ doners?"

Ask, stiff-upper-lippers, ask, each one,

"Does this not mean the terrorists have won?"

You "cycle," "walk," you trembling women/men tense,

Sentenced (life of fear), so you **Make sentence**

( _Life_ ) **"Trans- _sit_ " shuns clear by use of** (phrase is

Londoners) **"Trans- _sit_?—shun all!" words, phrases**.

"Londoners, you've been sentenced to terror, but I _implore_ you," Sir Phraser Wurd-Zand, Britain's most decorated grammarian, pleaded, " _do_ take ruddy great pains to make your bleeding sentence transitions clear, there's the good victims. Ask yourself, 'Have I made the relationship between my statements before those terrible moments, and those made after all was "changed, changed utterly," clear?' If 'No,' I beseech you to consider using a transitional word or phrase that makes clear those associations. One surefire (perhaps not the most sensitive word) method is to use a subordinating conjunction: 'I am petrified of taking the subway **because** there may be more homicide bombers.' Another is to use a relative pronoun: 'I besoil myself at the thought of riding the double-deckers, **which** also are sitting ducks.' Yet, since we have a tendency to take acts of terrorism personally, you could also use a personal pronoun: 'Suicide bombers want to kill us Londoners— **we** who want to live'; a demonstrative pronoun: 'Life means nothing to them, **these** bastards who kill children'; a conjunction: 'I don't want to die, **nor** do I want to be horribly maimed for life'; a correlative conjunction: ' **Either** their fundamentalist beliefs are totally insane, **or** they are much _much_ worse; or a conjunctive adverb: 'I have nothing to fear but fear itself; **therefore** , I am going to walk.' O Londoners! If terror so has you by the throat that you who so freely rode mass transit before, now shun it like the plague, I entreat you, _please_ , to at least avail yourself of any of numerous other transitional words and phrases such as: 'A moment before each horrid blast, life, sweet dreams, utter complacency; **afterward** , blood, body parts, and horror'; 'Prior to 7/07, London, Londoners were _bus_ tling with life. **Now and forevermore** all is changed, changed utterly; a terror-gripped city is born.' "

**Avoid putting a coordinate idea in a subordinate form**

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** **

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_Oklahoma City Bomber_ ** _Timothy McVeigh_** _condemns Co-warden Nate for pronouncing a death sentence upon him, as does Co-warden Jack._

"Co-warden Nate, you should coordinately have said, "I am upright, virtuous, and _kind_ , __**whereas** you are lowdown, sinful, and _cruel_. But you didn't, and I condemn you for it." "Of— _of all the impudence!_ Co-warden Jack, are you just going to stand there and let him talk to me that way, **while** you are not going to speak up and do something about it?" " _There_ , you see what I mean, Co-warden Jack? He should have said, ' **and** you are not going to speak up . . .' Do you not condemn him for it?" "Damned right I do!" _"Jack!"_
**  
**

252. Coordinate in Crime No Less Than Death

Then Timothy McVeigh, with fated breath,

Said, "I waive all appeals—put me to death."

The Indiana Prison, Terra Haute,

Had two Co-wardens, Nate and Jack (take note).

"That suits _me_ fine," said Warden Jack to Nate.

"The Oklahoma City Bomber's fate

Will be to die humanely, by injection

_Lethal_ , so's to pale his pink complexion."

Waiving off his get-ACLU attorney,

He, McVeigh, was strapped down on death's gurney.

"Bastard! He's the lowest of the low,"

Hissed Warden Nate, " _subordinate_ us pro

Co-wardens— _damn it_ , Jack, pain-free injection's

Too damned good for him—the _wrong_ corrections

For his low form. My idea'd be

A _shot—_ to make him _suffer_ : __ HIV."

"Oh, tut-tut, Warden Nate, one must," the head

Of Timothy McVeigh raised up and said,

" **Avoid** smile] **[putting a Co-warden Nate**

**Idea in a form subordinate**."

Looking down upon McVeigh, Co-warden Nate spat out with a venom that would have killed the condemned man instantly had it been injected into him, "Child killer, _bastard_! __ I am upright, virtuous, and _kind_ , **although** you are lowdown, sinful, and _cruel._ " "Tsk tsk, Co-warden Nate. There you go again, putting a coordinate idea in a subordinate form. Were you everything you say you are, you should coordinately have said, "I am upright, virtuous, and _kind_ , __**whereas** you are lowdown, sinful, and _cruel_ "; or alternatively, "I am upright, virtuous, and _kind_ , **but** you are lowdown, sinful, and _cruel._ ' But you didn't, thus you leave me no choice other than to condemn you for it." "W-W-Why, of— _of all the impudence!_ Co-warden Jack, are you just going to stand there and let him talk to me that way, **while** you are not going to speak up and do something about it?" " _There_ , you see what I mean, Co-warden Jack? Do you see how incorrigible your cohort is? Instead of inquiring, as any civilized _coordinated_ human being would do, 'Co-warden Jack, are you just going to stand there and let him talk to me that way, **and** you are not going to speak up and do something about it?' he proceeds to scandalize the entire Federal prison system—and _you_ by association. If only I were not restrained by these straps and an inordinate compassion for humanity. So, come, do you not, as I do, summarily condemn him for it?" "You're right, McVeigh—and I _do_ condemn him for it." _"Jack!"_ "Executioner, prepare another fatal injection for Co-warden Nate." **_"Jack!"_** "Here, McVeigh, I'll just loosen your restraints sufficiently so you can move over and make room on the gurney for Co-Warden Nate—" _"JACK!"_ "For all his putting coordinate ideas in _subordinate_ form, at least we can have ourselves a damned good Co-warden-Nated execution—" ** _"JAC—"_**

**Do not omit words necessary in a comparison**

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** **

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_Identical twins_ ** _Omar and Omit Khayyám_** _are often subject to comparison._

"Yadda, yadda," " _Again_ with the omission! The expression, _Omit_ , is 'yadda, yadda, _yadda_.' " "You're such a pedant, Omar. Lighten—" "Good God! What won't you stoop to Omit next? The expression is 'lighten _up_.' You carelessly omitted the _up._ " "Omar, Mother says you're as poor a tentmaker as a mathematician—" "NO! _Mother says you're as poor a tentmaker as **you are** a mathematician_." "I'm doing as best as I ca—" " _NO!_ 'best' is superlative, not comparative. Omit the second _as_ : _I'm doing as best I can_. . . ." 
**  
**

253. Omit Did That in His Comparisons

In Persia, long before the son-o-gram,

Twin brothers Omar and Omit Khayyám

Were born. How different they soon proved to be:

He, Omar, took care with his words, while he,

Omit, was careless; left them _out_ to weather

In the cold rain, worse, to sunbake, leather

Up their skins. The difference was as stark

As Persian day is light, and night is dark;

As is a careful to a careless one.

As said, it was a stark comparison.

Grown, Omar and Omit took different wives,

Which twins, like them, led very different lives,

And gave them, these two starkly different ones

In terms of caring, very different sons.

His, care-full Omar gave a middle name;

Omit could care less and _left out_ the same.

"Compare my middle-nameless son, O Omar,

To your—" "Leave off careless __ chromosomar!

You **Do NOT Omit** —as _you_ have done—

**Words necessary in compare-a-son**."

"Yadda, yadda," Omit said, rolling his eyes. Omar fumed. " _Again_ with the omission! The expression is 'yadda, yadda, _yadda_.' How do you expect anyone to compare the ancient Persian idiom with the latest 'yeah, yeah, yeah' when you omit one _yadda_?" "I don't. All I care is, the blistering Persian comparison is beating down on me—and it's hot as hell!" "Confound you— _it's **as** hot as hell_." "You're such a pedant, Omar. Lighten—" "Good God! What won't you stoop to omit next? The expression is 'lighten _up_.' You carelessly omitted the _up._ " "But—" "Upon my word, you get worse by the minute. Why Omit the odd _word_ here or there, when you can Omit the entire excuse—" "Brother, calm down, you're so irrational—" "Damn! Is there no Omission you won't stoop to? When you use _so_ like that, a comparative decency behooves you to complete it: _You're so irrational **as to be like one** **with whom there is no reasoning**_." "You said—" "You're damned right I said _it_. Some of us care enough about _it_ not to Omit _it_." "Really, you're the most precious snob, O—" "Curse you! It's _You're the most precious snob, O **mar,** **in all Persia**._" "Such things interest you more than me." "No! _Such things interest you more than **they interest** me_." "Omar, Mother says you're as poor a tentmaker as a mathematician, astronomer, and poet—" "NO! _Mother says you're as poor a tentmaker as **you are** a mathematician, astronomer, and poet_." "Mother regrets you as much as fath—" "Blast you! Do you mean _Mother regrets you as much as father **regrets you**_? __ or _Mother regrets you as much as **she regrets** Father_? "I'm doing as best as I ca—" " _NO!_ 'best' is superlative, not comparative. Omit the second _as_ : _I'm doing as best I can_. (Sigh) I'd submit your Omituaries to your leftist (left-out) rag _The Rue-buy-it of Omit Khayyám,_ but I just know they'd only be . . . "

**Avoid writing a series of short, choppy sentences**

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** **

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**_Stephen King_** _tries his hand at writing for the television scream, and gets hammered._

"Hi!" "Good morning, sir. May I help you?" "Yes." "Sir?" "Sorry. One way. Portland." "Oregon?" "Maine." "Yes, sir, first class?" "Coach." "Aisle?" "Window." "Certainly. Your name, sir?" "King." "First name?" "Stephen." " _Stephen King?_ screenwriter for the grisly short-lived TV series 'Short, Choppy Sentences'?" "Yes." "Excuse me." "Sure." [supervisor] "Mr. King?" "Yes." "Excuse me if I don't shake your hand. We'd love to fly you." "Great." "But we can't. We don't have a runway short enough for you . . ."
**  
**

254. Short, Choppy Sentences, One Bloody Hand

Ghoul Stephen King, Maine _danse macabre_ screamwriter

(Horror novels), chill-your-bloodstream frighter,

Bored with penning millions-selling books,

Conceived to get the millions telling _looks_

By trying his hand (still the horror theme)

At writing for the television scream.

His write hand packed, he struck for Hollywood,

Arrived, unpacked it— _horrors_ —all the blood!

He never washed it off. " _Good_ bloody trail!

Go on—write me a bloody millions sale!"

He set it at the keys; away it thumped

(On _what_ he'd no idea—he was stumped).

It soon cranked out a bloody weekly series:

Sentences (for mutilating dearies)

Serial-type killers got for lopping

Victims' limbs off all too short, then chopping

Torsos into piec—the Nielsen ratings?

Bloody _awful_. __ King learned by such hatings:

**Do not write a series of "Short, Choppy**

**Sentences** "; too ghoulish, much too loppy.

" _Here,_ King. Take your bloody hand! Don't bother to wash it. It's already washed up. It'll never work in this town again. And neither will you. Take it back to Maine. Set it to writing bloody books. It's good at that. Don't even _think_ of another series. Unless it's a book series. You should've known. The public's got a short attention span. But it's not a "Short, _Choppy . . ._ " attention span. Look, don't blame us. We gave you a shot. You had your chance. You blew it. Or rather your hand blew it. What do you want us to do? Give you another series? Get serious! You're toast. Don't call us. We'll call you. Here's your hat. Sorry. _Not!_ See yourself out. Don't let the door hit you. Well? What are you waiting for?" "Me?" " _You_ , King." "My hat." "We gave you your hat." "My writing hat." "Oh, _that_ one (snicker). Right. Like we can use it. Here." "Thanks." "Sure." [later, LAX] "Hi!" "Good morning, sir. May I help you?" "Yes [pause]." "Sir?" "Oh. Sorry. Right. One way. Portland." "Oregon?" "Maine." "Yes, sir. First class?" "Coach." "Aisle s—?" "Window." "Certainly, sir. We have a 10:55 flight." "Fine." "Your name, sir?" "King." "First name?" "Stephen." " _Stephen King?_ screenwriter for the grisly short-lived series 'Short, Choppy Sentences'?" "Yes." "I should've known." "What?" "Oh, uh . . . uh, nothing, sir. If you'll excuse me." "Sure." [she returns with supervisor] "Mr. King?" "Yes." "How do you do? You'll excuse me if I don't shake your hand. We'd love to fly you." "Great." "But there's one small problem." "What?" "We can't." "No?" "We don't have a runway short enough for you." "You don't?" "No, sorry. It won't fly. —Oh, Mr. King?" "Yes?" "Could I have your autograph? It's for my Gothdaughter. She's a huge fan. She'd love to have a sample of your hand writi— _NO, NO!_ That's all right, Mr. King. _Don't_ unpack your bloody bag."

**Be consistent in the use of subject and voice in a sentence**

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** **

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_Southern chain-gang captain _[ ** _Strother Martin_** _] means to save Cool Hand Luke [Paul Newman] the expense of a tanning salon._

"I aim to subject you to the most con-sistent lifetime subjugation that was ever done by me. Now ain't that right, boy? _Shut u—_ " "Not hardly, captain." "What do you _me-ean_ , boy, speaking to me that-a way?" "You started out with the subject **I** ( **I** aim), then you switched it to **subjugation** ( **subjugation** was done). At the same time you started out with the active whiny voice ( **I** aim), and then switched over to the passive whiny voice (the **subjugation** was done by you). Not cool, captain, not cool at all. . . ." 
**  
**

255. His Subject and His Voice Were Inconsistent

"Boy," southern chain-gang captain (Strother Martin),

Whose high, whiny voice had no bit part in

Cool Hand Luke's con-sentenced subjugation,

Started in, in high nasalization

(Cool Hand stayed cool), "now you want to get

Your _mi-ind_ right, boy." Tanned (cool!) and cocky yet,

Luke had no mind to do the mouthing "Yas, boss"

Thing, much less the uncool mouthy yas-gloss

Bit. He took his lumps then by the score,

Subjecting himself to yet all the more.

(Cool!) "Boy, what we've got here's a failure to

_Commu-unicate,_ but I'll give you your due:

You're cool, boy, as a Maine cucumber—iced,

Which, for its coolness, soon gets sliced and diced.

And, boy, I aim to subject you—for _life_ ;

You'll _feel_ it, steady, my cool handy knife

(My nasal whine) _cut_ right through you, you'll see

I'm pretty cool myself; I've learned to **Be**

**Con-sistent in the use of subject tanned**

**Voice in a sentence** — _life!_ " [He'd one Cool Hand.]

"Now, boy, another thing you want to learn in a sentence, especially a _li-ife_ sentence," the captain/boss went on, his nasal whine cutting its way sharply into Cool Hand Luke's psyche, "is that the No. 1 crime is a failure to _commu-unicate_. And just how, boy, do we communicate? By _voi-ice_. Now another thing you want to get your mind right on right quick is that there are only ever two voices in a sentence: _active_ and _passive_. Which is the same thing as saying _mine_ and _yours_. I do the acting, and you passively take it and get acted upon. Which is just another way of saying I speak out and you get spoken down to. Ain't that _ri-ight,_ boy? _Shut up!_ Now another thing you need to get your mind right on is that in a sentence you need to be consistent with _respect_ to the subject, which you need to know is me. And this is my object: I aim to subject you to the most con-sistent lifetime subjugation that was ever done by me. Now ain't that right, boy? _Shut u—_ " "Not hardly, captain." "What do you _me-ean_ , boy, speaking to me that-a way?" "You started out with the subject **I** ( **I** aim), then you switched it to **subjugation** ( **subjugation** was done). At the same time you started out with the active whiny voice ( **I** aim), and then switched over to the passive whiny voice (the **subjugation** was done _by_ you). Not cool, captain, not cool at all." "I'll teach _you_ to talk to me that a-way, boy—and you'll be taught good." "Uncool again, captain. You actively started out with the subject **I** ( **I** 'll teach), and then passively switched to **you** ( **you** 'll be taught). No consistency in subject, no consistency in voice. _Most_ uncool, captain. What we've got here is a failure to _coo-o-olmunicate_." "Boy, **I** 'll tan your hide, and your **hide** 'll be more tanned than George Hamilton Cow leather." "And **I** 'll actively, consistently smile, captain, knowing **I** 'm looking cooler than ever."

**Use words out of their natural order once in a while as a method of emphasis**

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** **

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_The Lord in all his mercy commands the whale to vomit_ ** _Jonah_** _up on land._

"Wherefore do say I, 'Father, you I thank much and do pledge my life to dedicate, my gratefulness to show, to using words out of their order natural once in a while emphasis for. To Ninnyveh go I now as commanded you first, the Ninnyvites to preach unto, themselves to save." _Jonah, I swear you are a bigger ninny than all the Ninnyvites put together. My commandment commandeth to use words out of their natural order once in a WHILE. You went overboard once, and now you have gone overboard again . . ._
**  
**

256. He Once in a Whale Used Words out of Order

To flee him from the presence of the Lord,

He, Jonah, bent for Tarshish, shipped aboard

In Joppa. But the Lord did much foment

The sea, and into this froth Jonah went,

All sailor-tossed, to quell the foaming sea

For all the evil curse that Jonah, he,

Had brought upon them. Whereupon did flail

He, Jonah— _in the gut of a great whale_ ,

Wherein, for all his wholly swallowed frights,

Did Jonah flounder three days and three nights.

Then Jonah, being a great knowledge hoarder,

Well recalled: "The whale is of the order,

Yea, _Cetacea._ " Lo, a mighty wail

Forth out that great fish for his woeful tale

Sent he to touch the ears of God, his mercy,

For to pluck him out that fishy purse, he,

Jonah, who well knew, a whale onboarder:

**Use words out of their natural order**

**Once in a whale as a method of**

**( _"God-d-d!_** _"_ ) **emphasis** __ when fish has come to shove.

Saved was Jonah, and thankful mighty was he. Whereupon swore Jonah unto the Lord, "O Almighty God, nights and days three was I, Jonah, the belly of the great fish inside when merciful were you and my self miserable did pluck from out the order natural of the whale. Oh, surely of all stories fish, the greatest is it. Wherefore do say I, 'Father, you I thank much and do pledge hereby my life to dedicate, my gratefulness to show, to using words out of their order natural once in a great while emphasis for. To Ninnyveh, capital of Assyria go I now as commanded you first, the Ninnyvites to preach unto, themselves to cause to repent of their sins, themselves for to save." Arriving therein, said Jonah, "O Ninnyvites, here am I, now me hear: Assyrians are you. Mind, do you, if I call you Asses for short? Pride and arrogance have you to nations foreign. Says he in Heaven, our Lord, _Damned well ship up you'd better, or shape out._ If not, wroth will be he, and visit shall he upon you a punishment great: with the fishes will you sleep. And so my advice take: Thyselves adorn in ashcloth and sacks and sit thee, and spare thee will he." Thereupon were the heavens rent with great thunder, and the Lord spake unto Jonah: _Upon my word, I swear you are a bigger ninny than all the Ninnyvites put together. My commandment commandeth to use words out of their natural order once in a whale—I mean **while**. You went overboard once, and now you have gone overboard again. While—I mean whale—I mean you've got me so turned around now with your overboard inversions that barely can I bring myself to say unto you, will you never learn?_ Thereupon, tossed into the briny deep doo doo, Jonah, found him anew in the belly of a great wail: "O Father Heavenly, at least must admit you that once in a wail Jonah, I, words use out of their natural ordure."

**Get after dangling verbal phrases**

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** **

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**_Donkey Hoaty_** _is once more verbally disabused, as accustomed, by Sancho Panza._

"Eh, how's that?" "You just dangled a participial phrase ( _Dangling verbal phrases before Rosinante all morning_) before _me_. But _fatigue_ is not dangling; _you_ are. You should have said, _Dangling verbal phrases before Rosinante all morning, **I** am overcome with fatigue._" "After taking a siesta, you'll see me get her to go." " _No way_ , Hoaté!" "Qué?" "You just dangled the gerund phrase _After taking a siesta_ before my eyes. But _I_ am not going to be taking a siesta, _you_ are. You should have said, _After taking a siesta, **I** 'll . . ._" __
**  
**

257. He Got Hung Up on Dangling His Verbals

In old La Mancha, so the text connotes,

Old Donkey Hoaty came to feel his oats.

His love of chivalry, it came to pass,

Caused Donkey Hoaty ( _"Cha-a-arge!"_ ) to make an ass

Of his fool self by tilting as he did

At windmills. ( _"Giants!"_ ) "Dunce! He's flipped his lid."

La Manchans laughed. "His same old lame recourse:

He's mounted on his old and spavined 'horse,'

The Donkey!" "Thinks he'll make her go, the cripple,

Dangling oats before her?—participle,

"Loon, __ before her old and rheumy eyes."

"The beast is not one whit more old than wise."

"Look! Donkey Hoaty's on a different errand

Now, he's _gone_ to dangling— _dolt_ —a gerund

( _'Git!'_ ). No luck." "He'll make it lucrative

(He thinks) by dangling an infinitive

Before her ( _'Git!'_ )." "But he can't make her go."

"Dope! What she wants is _oats_." "He doesn't know

That she could care less, through her rheumy gazes,

To **Git! after dangling verbal phrases**."

Thoroughly frustrated, Donkey Hoaty turns to his man Friday who, quite unaccountably, is named Sancho Panza. To add to his frustration, the latter reminds him, "Señor Donkey, we're in Spain, so I'm your man viernes." Donkey Hoaty sighs: "Dangling verbal phrases before Rosinante all morning, fatigue has overcome me." "Señor Big Donkey," Sancho says, "you dangle still." "Eh, how's that?" "You just dangled a participial phrase ( _Dangling verbal phrases before Rosinante all morning_) before _me_. But it's not _fatigue_ who's been dangling; it's _you_. You should have said, _Dangling verbal phrases before Rosinante all morning, **I** am overcome with fatigue._" "Gracias. After taking a siesta, you just see if I don't get her to go." " _No way_ , Hoaté!" "Qué?" "Señor Asinine, you just now dangled the gerund phrase _After taking a siesta_ before my eyes. But _I_ , whom you falsely addressed as _you_ , am not going to be taking a siesta, _you_ are." "That's what I said." "Si, but what you should have said is _After taking a siesta, **I** 'll get her to go, you just see_." "But you just said _I_ was wrong." "I said _you_ were wrong." "Now you just said _you_ were wrong." "No I didn't; I said _you_ were wrong." "Ai me!" " _Now_ you've got it." "Caramba! To listen to you, a headache is my lot." "Hokey you are, Donkey Hoaty—but okey-dokey you're not!" "Oh _qué_?!" "No, _not_ O.K. Just now, Señor Stubbornhead, you dangled an infinitive phrase, _To listen_ _to you_ , before me, proving you are mule-headed. A _headache_ is not listening to you—and I wish to God I weren't—just as you are not listening to me. You should have said, _To listen to you, **I** have a lot of headache_." "And I do." "Well then why didn't you say so?" "I just did" "No, _you_ just did." "Ai me! Thank God it's _viernes._ " "NO, __ Señor Hee-haw—viernes! _Tilting at italics so asininely_, **you** ARE a Big Donkey."

**Don't place the subject at the start of every sentence**

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** **

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**_Judge Learned Hand_** _takes umbrage at a lowly "man in the street" who, without higher learning, presumes to talk to the Hand instead of the hand._

The judge sobs, " **I** can't help it. **Life** dealt me a poor Hand. **Case** **No. 1** couldn't have gone more badly. **I** don't know how to begin __ turning my life around." "Judge, **I** could tell you." " **I** do that _how_?" "By not placing the subject at the start of every sentence." " ** _You_** could give me an example, no doubt." "Indeed **I** could. Take, **sir** , your last question, ' **I** do that _how_?' Well might **you** have said, 'And how do **I** do _that_?" " **I** knew that." "Did **you** now, Guv?" " **I** suppose you could give me another suggestion?" "Could **I** ever! . . ."
**  
**

258. He Learned the Hard Way, Learned As He Was

Judge Learned Hand was highly High Court learned,

Failing but one course: Case-Overturn Ed.

First he'd learned that _learned_ was pronounced

Not / **lurnd** / but / **lurn** -ed/ and, by all accounts,

That _learned_ was not pronounced as / **lurn** -ed/ but

As / **lurnd** /. He suffered from a learning glut

Did Learned Hand. Most subjects duly learned,

He took the judgeship that he'd duly earned,

And set forth to apply his learning to

The law as all such learned judges do.

One came before him criminally bent,

Whom he'd subject to _hard_ -time punishment:

" **I** 'll teach _you_ — _ninety-nine_ consecutive

Life sentences! **You** , subject, had best live

To start each—at the start—or _else_!" Appeal

Was raised to the Supreme High Court to "Heal

This great injustice." All nine overturned,

All ninety-nine life sentences. He learned,

Judge Learned Hand, **Don't place the subject at**

**The start of every sentence**. _Hard_ learned that.

" **I** can't help it," Judge Learned Hand sobbed as he stumbled down the street away from his courtroom. " **Life** dealt me a poor Hand. **Case** **No. 1** couldn't have gone more badly if I'd cried. **I** don't know how to begin __ turning my life around." "Judge, **I** could tell yo—" **He** starts, and whirls around, wiping the cataracts from his cheeks. " **I—I** don't know _you_ , do I?" he says indignantly to this . . . this lowly _man in the street_. " **Who** are _you_ to speak to me without higher learning?" "Your lordship, just a man in the street **who** is judged a trifle street smart." " **I** might have known. **I** got _my_ high education in Yale." "Ah, a Yale-house lawyer are **you** now, Guv? No time did **I** myself spend there. Best to keep my nose clean and avoid the place, thought **I**." " **I** say _hmmph!_ **You** were saying? . . ." "Yes, about where **you** could begin turning your life around." " **I** do that _how_?" "Well, for starters, by not placing the subject at the start of every sentence—as **you** have been doing since long before I ever met you. Very boring, very boring indeed **that** becomes after a while, your school-of-higher-learningship." " ** _You_** could give me an example, no doubt." "Indeed **I** could. Take, **sir** , your last question, ' **I** do that _how_?' By not starting with your favorite subject, 'I,' **you** might well say, 'And _how_ do **I** do that?" " **I** knew that." "Did **you** now, Guv?" " **I** suppose you could give me another suggestion?" "Could **I** ever! Unfortunately, though, at this very moment, down on the corner of School of Hard Knocks Street and Streetsmart Way, **my professor of varyatrics and a 10:30 class** await me." " **You** _must_ have some parting word of advice you can give me." "That, your subject-firstship, **I** have: Only retrace, **sir** , our interlocutory steps. In each of _my_ sentences, look **you** , sir, where I boldly put the subject. More would **I** give you, O learned one, but—sorry! Run **I** must."

**Save the muscle words of a sentence for the end**

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** **

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**_Judge Judy_** ** __**_shows that she's no slouch herself at striking a "most muscular" pose, only hers is no pose._

"You've seen what I do to those who break the law; God help you if you should break the _rule_. While I am vigorous at the beginning of a sentence, I am always most emphatic at its _end_. How would you like it if I handed one down to _you_? __ What _kind_? Oh, well, let's see; as the punishment should always fit the crime, shall we, oh I don't know, we want to be perfectly fair, say . . . _LIFE!_ Why should we place the forceful words of a sentence at its _end_? Now I know the origin of the saying 'Beauty fades, but _dumb is forever_ . . .' 
**  
**

259. At Sentence End She Placed Her Muscle: _Life_

Judge Judy: "Man, the verb for which I've yenned

All court of highest dudgeon is _to send_

Your 'head' a message—send it _strongly_ too—

From high up on my bench on down to you.

You've got a lot of muscle it appears,

Too obviously, _right between your ears._

Well it so happens, on my ledge judicial,

I've _some_ muscle, too—all prejudicial;

All against you and your musclebound

Head, for which you're so _brawn-for-brains renowned._

"So watch me, man, flex all my 'judi' muscle,

Go against you in court-TV tussle.

_Mighty_ strong words have I, thus, for you,

All pumped to strong-arm meaning in you, too.

I've yenned to lay them on you for so long

Because they're so Ju'dish all'—sentence strong.

But I've resisted strongly the temptation

Till your sentence— _Live humiliation._

Man, I've learned, to one strong message send,

**Save muscle words of sentence for the yenned**."

_Order in the court! Order in the court! Here comes the Judge! Here comes the Judge!_ "You've seen what I do to those who break the law; God help you if you should break the _rule_. While I am vigorous at the beginning of a sentence, and resounding throughout, I am always most emphatic at its _end_. How would you like it if I handed one down to _you_? What _kind_? Oh, well, let's see now; as the punishment should always fit the crime, shall we, oh I don't know, we want to be perfectly fair, say . . . _LIFE!_ Order in the court jester [here comes the fool]. When you see my lips moving that means I'm talking—and _you're not._ Look at my forehead. Do you see written on it anywhere the word _Stupid_? So what did you do _then_? You did _what_? Look, they're not paying me millions to do this because I'm _cute_. They're paying me to _cut through the crap_. Am I making myself _clear_? Do you know the meaning of the word _emphasis_? It means when you leave this courtroom you're going to know the meaning of the word _stress_. Have you got _that_? What? How would I define _sentence_? It's a capital offense that ends with a period—in the _pen_. I'm _talking_! Is the dominant gene in your family _idiocy_? God's never going to forgive me for this, but I'm going to give you _one more chance_. Try not to _blow it_. What? Why should we place the forceful words of a sentence at its _end_? Now I know the origin of the saying 'Beauty fades, but _dumb is forever_.' It's to provide a most welcome contrast to those sentences where the emphasis comes at the _beginning_ : _Show_ you some? _Here_ then. _Lying, showing me disrespect, being guilty_ are the three worst mistakes you can make in my courtroom. _Which_ sentences should you han— _You_ don't hand down the sentences in this courtroom. _I_ do. _You_ of all morons should know that the stress, first and last, always falls upon _you._ "

**Arrange ideas in clear, orderly sequence**

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****

**_Glen Campbell_** _sings his arrangement of Rhinestone Cowboy for its author, Larry Weiss._

"What's that again, Lar?" "You blamed fool! What kind of harebrained arrangement is '— _from people I don't even know—_ I'll get cards and letters'? when what I wrote, in a _clear_ and _orderly_ sequence—not _sequins_ —was 'Getting cards and letters from people I don't even know / And _offers_ coming over the phone'—not ' _authors_ coming over _on_ the phone.' And what's with the 'star- _spangly_ rodeo'? "I thought _spangly_ gave it a nice kind of a jingle." "I wish to hell you'd have given the local _nut house_ a jingle. . . ."
**  
**

260. Idea: Order Sequins, Be a Star

"No, _gentle_ on my mind it's not," Glen Campbell

Sang the blues. "I've got to take a gamble.

My career's goin' nowhere fast—and how—boy!

I know! I'll become the _Sequin Cowboy_.

Sequins, clear, seen sparklin' like a lake,

All over me—I'll order lots—will make

Me seem a star; and that will _make_ me one!

Yes, that's the way this 'rock' star thing is done.

A star, I'll ride out on a horse each show

_—Star_ of my own star-spangly rodeo!

"Yes, _Sequin Cowboy_ —that'll be my theme song.

I just know it's gonna be my dream song.

I'll arrange its sentences just so,

And then— _from people I don't even know_ —

I'll get cards and letters, so well known,

And authors coming over on the phone.

One's comin' right now— **loud** and clear: ' ** _Damn_** __ you!

It's **_Rhinestone_** _Cowboy_!' just cause I chose to

**Arrange** (to score a range of Grammy-chic wins)

**Sentences in orderly, clear sequins**.

"What's that again, Lar?" Glen said after he'd transferred the phone to his unbusted hear drum. "You blamed fool!" Larry Weiss, _Rhinestone Cowboy_ author, fumed. "Even if I'd said you could—I _didn't_ —what kind of harebrained arrangement is '— _from people I don't even know—_ I'll get cards and letters'? when what I wrote, in a _clear,_ _orderly_ sequence—not _sequins_ —was 'Getting cards and letters from people I don't even know / And _offers_ coming over the phone'—not ' _authors_ coming over _on_ the phone.' What kind of damned fool arranging is that? And what's with 'star- _spangly_ rodeo'? "I thought _spangly_ gave it a nice kind of a jingle." "I wish to hell you'd have given the local _nut house_ a jingle. Didn't anyone ever tell you to arrange your sentences to progress by one of several methods such as CHRONOLOGY, as in from _start to fini—"_ "Now hold your horsologies there, Lar. I went to see my chronicologist just last week and he opined I was advancin' in age so quickly I was already twice as old as my chronillogical years. How's _that_ for progress?" "(Sigh) or SPACE, such as _near to far, left to righ—_ " "Lar, I _know_. There was a period when I got really spaced out on drugs, but that was in the mid-'80s— _ten long years from now_ —so I've got plenty of time _and_ space." "Between the ears! But no LOGICAL REASONING such as _cause and effect_ ; this, therefore tha—" "Now, Lar, Lar, didn't I just cause you to come screamin' over the phone, derangin' your own lyrics to beat the band, which had the effect of bustin' my hear drum? But speakin' of hearin', Lar, which I guess you'll have to do it for the both of us, have a listen to my brand newest star-spangly arrangement: 'On the load to my horizon / There's been a road of compromisin' / But I'm gonna be where the starlight's spanglin' on me-e-e-e-e / Like a sequin cowboy-y-y . . .' "

42. Paragraphs

_I get up in the morning with an idea for a three-volume novel and by nightfall it's a paragraph in my column._

—Don Marquis

_A preacher's wife proofread his Sunday sermon and wrote next to one paragraph: "Weak point—shout loud."_

—Anonymous

**A Part of Something Bigger Than Us Two(?)**

"I _may_ start with a topic sentence— _may_ ,

Or a transition sentence (for display)

To introduce it, whether typed or penned,

Or I may save it for my very end.

And _what_ an end! I'm told it's quite the best

Part of my body—not that all the rest

Aren't just as hot; I use __ my body to

Develop the thought I've laid out for you

Within the topic sentence—sure you gape:

I keep myself in para _graphic_ shape.

"It pays off too: I'm often told I'm built

Like a block dream type—just the type to jilt

Those blockheads who have their designs on me,

Unless I want some _little_ blockheads, see,

So I can make the little-blockhead scene.

(In communist-block countries I am queen!)

But whether I'm one sentence or more, bless

My soul, I just _Stay focused! Don't digress!_

When little blockheads spoil my lovely figure,

I know I'm just part of something BIGGER."

Some people have all the luck! Take Paragraphs, for example: I swear she's got to have the BLOCKIEST figure on the block—yet she has no shortage of suitors, even if they're, every single one, blockheads. Not only that, she's the most _basic_ unit of thought going; nothing sophisticated about her in the least—and still blockheads fall at her feet. Couple that with the _plain_ fact that her lines are all as uncurvingly prosaic as they come—not the least bit poetic—and you'll clearly see that some people have all the luck. Yet for all her blockiness, she can't even stand, unsupported, on her own (too effete)! She's just a small part of some grossly obese something that's even BIGGER than her. Yet _still_ they keep flocking to her. Then, too, you'd think the untold number of times she's been _sentenced_ would make her so morally repugnant that prospective suitors would turn tail and run for their lives. But no! The blockheads, as a block, continue fighting over her tooth and male, even though she hasn't a single lovely curve to her figure. Some people have all the luck.

Then again, some people have all the _worst_ luck. Take me—by the way, how do you like my new granny dress, made of the purest old-fashioned gingham? In my first paragraph, above—isn't she a beauty? I've often been told, 'It's not the least bit blocky. How _do_ you manage to keep it so slim?'—I started out (as Mother used to say, don't beat around the bush; just blurt it out) with the topic sentence _Some people have all the luck!_ I then gave _some_ of the more infuriating examples of Paragraphs' unbelievable luck when it comes to attracting blockheads, without once digressing. Say, did I ever tell you about the time I went off on a tangent. Well, his red ears having suffered third-degree burns, that tangent never forgot it. Then, to belabor my theme, I reiterated the topic sentence _some people have all the luck._ A rabbit's foot, they say, is a good luck charm, though I've yet to run across a single cottontail (pretty easy to do) that seemed to have much of it, even though he's got three of them. I went on to give even more examples of how Paragraphs lucked out (she must have horseshoes for breakfast), without once shifting focus. Interestingly, paragraphs come in all different lengths, from one sentence to many. Some paragraphs run for pages. And there are many ways of developing them, such as captivating details. Then I summed up my own shapely-figured paragraph by bemoaning—for the _third_ time (thus solidly hammering home my block-buster theme)— _Some people have all the luck!_

And what good did it do me? A FAT lot of good. In my first paragraph above, I suffered myself ("no pain, no gain") to keep myself in gorgeous paragraphic shape, developing a pert topic sentence right off the top, one even pertier in my wasp-waisted middle ("What a body!"), and the pertiest one of all at my well-rounded end, never allowing myself to gain so much as an excess ounce by weigh of digressing or shifting focus. In short, I had the paragraphic equivalent of an hourglass figure. But _still_ no blockheads fell all over me. So, for my very next paragraph, the one above, I pulled out all the paragraphic stops and just let myself go, stuffing myself with every high-choleric, off-topic tidbit I could cram in, ballooning myself up from top to bottom—the most well-ROUNDED one you ever saw! Bottom line? There was more of me—everywhere. And were all the blockheads—was even _one_ —despite my full-figured paragraphic perfection, falling all over me? FAT chance! Which only goes to show that some poor souls, a whole block, have all the lack:

Yet, call me an eternal optimist. In my heart and soul I can't help believing that I, no less than you, will be wholly taken by

**The Novel Rules of Paragraphs**

**Steffi Graf, André Agasseed**

Use the topic sentence as a guide for the paragraph

**Mr. Write, Ms. Do-rite-by-me**

Make the paragraph the unit of your writing

**Florence Nightingale, God**

In dialogue use a separate paragraph for each change of speaker

**Ewmew Fudd, Ewmiwa**

Avoid short, undeveloped paragraphs

**Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan**

Avoid a series of short, choppy paragraphs

**Arnold Schwarzenegger, Maria Shriver**

Develop paragraphs by a variety of methods

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Quotation Marks**

**Groucho "Quotation" Marx, Margaret Dumont**

If a direct quotation extends for more than one paragraph, place quotation marks at the beginning of each paragraph but at the end of only the last

**Rules of Thumb—But Not Me!**

**The Wright Brothers, Teddy Roosevelt**

Never write a one-sentence paragraph

**Use the topic sentence as a guide for the paragraph**

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** **

****

**_Steffi Graf_** _, having joined a seedy dating service, waxes nervous: "What No. 1 seeds will they send me to choose from?" On the other end of the court, André Agasseed waxes no less nervous: "Will I be the top pick sent hence of the pair o' Graf?"_

"Well, I've made my No. 1 top pick for the other love of my life. No offense to Martina, but being a guy, André was my No. 1 top pick sent hence. This reminds me of a writing class I took between Wimbledon Cups. Our teacher said, when you start a paragraph with a topic sentence you make a kind of commitment as to what, if you're a chick, you're going to be going on and on about. If you're a guy you don't so much write a paragraph as you do a few unrelated sentence fragments, of which nobody expects much . . ." 
**  
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261. She Chooses Topic Sentence for Her Guide

For all one hundred eighty-six straight weeks

Star Steffi Graf was at the peak of peaks

Of tennis, yet, although the No. 1 seed,

Steffi still had not the No. 1 need

In her life—a No. 1-seed _man_

To help fulfill her No. 1-need plan:

"A No. 1 love—but not _tennis_ 'love.'

That 'love' means _'nothing'_ —No. 1 _lack_ of."

So Steffi joined a seedy dating service,

Waited for the seed they'd send her, nervous.

They sent _two_ choice seeds, both No. 1,

Instructing her to pick, when she was done

With sizing up each 1 for love potential,

The 1 seed deemed No. 1 essential.

One was "Martin— _Nah!_ Nah!vratilova:

Nah!mber 1 _wrong_ seed to rattle ova."

_One_ was top seed André Agasseed.

"Tops!" Steffi straightway chose this seed. "I need

To **Use the top pick sent hence** —no _distaff_

One— **as a _guy_ de**—duh!— **for the pair o' Graf**.

"Well, that's it," Steffi said with a decisive air. "I've made my No. 1 pick for the other love of my life, and I can't complain. Most girls would have been happy to get the pick of the litter, whereas I had the pick of the netters. No offense to Martina, but being a guy, André was my No. 1 top pick sent hence. Funny, but for some reason all this pickiness reminds me of a writing class I once took between Wimbledon Cups, in which (the class, not the cups) we were advised to _Use the topic sentence as a guide for the paragraph_. __ Our teacher, Mr. Paraguide, said that when you start a paragraph with a topic sentence you make a kind of commitment as to what, if you're a chick, you're naturally going to be going on and on about, setting up in the disheartened reader's mind an expectation of _all_ that is to follow. If you're a guy, he added, you don't so much write a paragraph as you do a few unrelated sentence fragments, of which nobody expects much. He said this topic sentence should serve as a guide for what it is you'll be talking about, like making a lifetime commitment to the guy you've picked to be the No. 1 love of your life. He said when you make a big deal out of this No. 1 commitment, right from day one, it shames the guy into making the male equivalent, the No _one_ commitment. Advantage, Agasseed —an 'advantage' I intend to press him on throughout the pair o' Graf! And now that I've put the ball smack! in André's court, it's up to him to return it to _my_ court as the top pick sent hence, and lovingly court me—for _life_. Oh no! André's hit the ball smack! into the net. _Fault, Agasseed!_ According to the rules, I should have won _30-love_ (I've just turned 30)—but the umpire says I've _lost_. Oh for crying out loud! Maybe André Agasseed (what did I do with that No. 1 seed catalogue now?) wasn't such a top pick sent hence after all."

**Make the paragraph the unit of your writing**

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** **

****

_Paramours Zelda and F. Scott Fitzgerald, alias_ ** _Mr. Write and Ms. Do-rite-by-me_** _._

And God said, _Let there be para-graphs, two paramours writing graphically of their love._ And there were para-graphs; and God saw that they were good. And God said, _Let there be paragraphs, blocks of graphic matter beginning on an indebted line I call man, formed of life sentences of but one topic: love._ And there were paragraphs; and God saw that they were good. And God said, _Let there be pair-agraphs, graphic pairing of the para-graphs._ And there were many pair-agraphs; and God saw that they were g—let us say graphic . . . 
**  
**

262. His Love for Her Was Truly Paragraphic

"My penned-to paramour, as mine is bound,

What makes your penned-to-only-yours heart pound

Are my love letters, written (but not _rote_ ,

You hope, the lump that I got in my throat

In penning you my love), and so received

('O Loving Heart!—oh _bliss!_ '), all doubts relieved

For one whole minute __ (' _Bless_ each precious letter,

All penned in _that_ _sweet hand!_ '). No love-fretter,

Cherished, you can think no better of

My monograph, so graphic with my love.

"But poring over same one minute gone

(You feel the insecureness rushing on),

You second-guess each love-seraphic line,

Each 'Not- _so_ -graphic traffic-in-love sign,'

And write me back in inner colloquy:

'You could have penned more _Sapphic_ things to me;

And here you could have—oh—penned _all_ your heart;

And there . . . ,' and so you nitpick it apart.

You can't help **Make the para-graph the you-nit**

**Of your writing** , and (so rote) you _do_ nit."

__

In the beginning God created the stars, Mr. Write and Ms. Do-rite-by-me, stars in their own write. Yet the writing was without form and void; and darkness was on the face of the dependent (she deeply depending on a few words of love). And the spirit of "God!" moved upon the face of the deep need. And God said, _Let there be para-graphs, two paramours writing graphically of their love for each other (taking one another at par)._ And there were para-graphs; and God saw that they were good. ["We'll _s-s-s-s-see_ about that," hissed the serpent.] And God said, _Let there be paragraphs, yea, blocks of graphic matter beginning on an indebted line I call man, formed of life sentences of but one topic: love._ And there were paragraphs; and God saw that they were good. [ _"Hiss-s-s-s!"_ ] And God said, _Let there be pair-agraphs, graphic pairing of the para-graphs._ And there were many such pair-agraphs, night and day; and God saw that they were g—let's say graphic. And God said, _Let there be pare-graphs, little graphic likenesses of their parents._ And there were pare-graphs; and God saw that they were good little chips off the old blocks, which were the para-graphs. And the evening __ and the morning were the sixth day. And God saw all the para-graphs and the paragraphs and the pair-agraphs and the pare-graphs that he had made, and, verily, it was all good, if a touch on the graphic side. And the topic sentence and the unity and the coherence and the development, yea, and the _conclusion_ were always the same: Mr. Write would write graphically to Ms. Do-rite-by-me, and she in return would ritually make the para-graph (writer's block) the you-nitpick of her writing. And all the little pare-graphs, the chips off the old blockheads, became graphic designers in their own write. And the Eve-ning and the mourning were the Seventh Day Adam-ventists.

**In dialogue use a separate paragraph for each change of speaker**

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** **

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**_Florence Nightingale_** _, the "Lady with the Lamp," trades the stench of the Crimean War for the stench of the infant ward, 1856._

__

"Dear God, the stench is awful! Send me twelve dozen dozen fresh pairs of diapers."

_Yea, my blessed saint. It grieves me to see my children suffer so. I'm sending you a gross._

_"NO!_ for God's sake—excuse me, God— _NO!_ For I have nothing _but_ gross ones here."

 _My diaperless child, you have mistaken my dialog for a mess of potage. I had in mind to send forth unto you, to ease the backlog, fully a **hundred and forty-four—**_

"— _NO!_ God, don't send _full_ ones! I've enough back-logged Dia®s or I'd not be . . ."
**  
**

263. Fresh Paragraph for Every Change of Wailer

In 1854, when things were worse

In British medicine, an angel/nurse

Set forth in life "to care for those who ail":

The young, heroic Florence Nightingale

Set sail for a Crimean War-torn camp,

And soon was praised the "Lady with the Lamp."

Returning home a saint some two years later,

She set out to (blest alleviator!)

Ease the cries of ill-clad infant gripers

Loud bewailing lack of change of diapers.

"Stench of war pales in comparison

To infants' diapers when some pair is on

_Too long_ for lack of change of soiled brand Dia®

_—Pyoo!—_ no log-free fresh change at hand via

Clean new Graff® brand diaper. Pray you, Lord!"

If you're the God of Mercy you'll afford

Me— _gross!—_ twelve dozen Graf®s—just those. __ I note

Here in _The_ _Nurse's Manual_ , I quote:

**In-Dia log** — _pyoo!—_ **use a separate pair,**

**A Graff, __ for every change of speaker**(wear) _._ "

"Oh, _gross!_ " Saint Florence emoted upon removing another soiled diaper. "I've done this dozens of times—twelve dozen at least—yet each is as gross as the first. But then I have to be gross; I have no choice—just as I have no change of diapers. Notwithstanding I'm a saint, or the stench, I have to be so gross in order to get across my urgent _need_ for another brand of diapers besides Dia®, which is why I am having this urgent dialog with you, the 'God of Mercy.' And in order to set the most saintly, if metaphorical, example, I shall use a separate, _fresh_ paragraph for each change of speaker." [she makes a fresh, clean start]

"Dear God! War is hell—but it's nothing compared with the hell that is the infant ward for lack of fresh diapers. If you were, I believe _are_ , a merciful God, you will cause to have twelve dozen dozen, or more, fresh pairs of diapers come unto me— _now_ , O Lord!"

_Yea, verily,_ God spake in fresh change of typers (italics), _it grieves me mightily to see my children suffer so. And even though you have sinned grossly before me by not filling out requisition form 1-4-WHAT-THEY-8, yet shall I move heaven and earth to send you (I would quote you the price but, as you know, I am above using quotation marks) a gross._

" _NO!_ for God's sake—excuse me, God— _NO!_ For I have nothing _but_ gross ones here. What I need are, forgive me for being so graphically unsaintly, Lord— _fresh_ ones."

_Upon my Word,_ God bethought himself, _she doesn't understand a dozen dozen,_ and he spake unto her: _My diaperless child, you have mistaken my dialog for a mess of potage. I had in mind to send forth unto you, to ease the backlog, fully a **hundred and forty-four—**_

"— _NO!_ God, don't send _full_ ones! I've enough back-logged Dia®s or I'd not be—"

_Dia® logging—only I wish to high heaven you weren't so gross in **every** paragraph._

**Avoid short, undeveloped paragraphs**

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** **

****

**_Ewmew Fudd_** _flies to Paraguay looking for a short wife, and finds one._

"Ewmiwa, whiwe twavewwing awound Pawaguay, I wan into some weawwy weawwy stwange-wooking natives. I couwd hawdwy bewieve my eyes. . . ."

"Wisten, Showty, what do you mean by getting me aww excited with the expectation of heawing about the stwange-wooking native Pawaguaphs you met—then weaving me totawwy unfuwfiwwed? Wewe they weawwy scawy cannibaws? Wewe they showt, undevewoped, and, wike youws, the most misewabew excuse fow a Pawaguaph? . . ."

****
**  
**

264. One Paragraph Was Really Short With Him

Sighed Ewmew Fudd, "I'd weawwy wove to get

A wife as showt as me—no, showtew yet,

And just as undevewoped in hew way

As me in those two wettuhs I can't say.

We'd both be so incompwehensibuw

We'd twuwy, twuwy be compatibuw.

But _whewe_ can I find such a giww to mawwy?

_Pawaguay?_ The giwws thewe awe aww vewy

Undevewoped in thewe—you don't say!—

And _showt_ with men? I'ww fwy to Pawaguay,

"And find my dweam giww who can't say, wike me,

Hew 'aw's and 'ew's. I'ww know hew when I see

Hew, heaw hew voice—but whewe's my twusty gun,

My twusty doubew-bawwewed Womangton?

—Ah, thewe it is! I've weawwy got to gwab it;

It's as good fow pesky wife as wabbit

I've been towd." [in due course] _"Oh, poow me!_

How weawwy, weawwy _showt_ with me is she.

Giww wovews, wisten [evewybody waughs],

**Avoid showt, undevewoped Pawaguaphs**!"

Paraguay. "Weww, hewe I am at wast, and my doubew-bawwewed Womangton didn't wet me down. A singew shot bwought the undevewoped giww of my dweams up showt! Twue, thewe's a weaw wanguage bawwiew between us, but I know enough Espewanto, the univewsaw wanguage, to ask hew if she wants to shawe hew wife with me, make a wittew smaww tawk, which shouwd be vewy easy since we'we both showt. I'ww stawt by putting its univewsaw icebweakew in a weawwy showt, undevewoped Pawaguaph:

"Ahem. Whiwe twavewwing awound Pawaguay, Ewmiwa, I wan into some weawwy weawwy stwange-wooking natives. I couwd hawdwy bewieve my eyes."

After a long pause pregnant with promise miscarried, "Ewmiwa," the dream "wittew woman" said, "Wisten, Showty, what do you mean by getting me aww excited with the expectation of heawing about the stwange-wooking native Pawaguaphs you met—then weaving me totawwy unfuwfiwwed? You might have descwibed at weast _one_ , and why _he_ was so stwange-wooking. Did he have a bone thwough his nose? Tattoos on his face? Was he weawing a woin cwoth? Was he a weawwy scawy cannibaw? Was he showt, undevewoped, _ugwy_ , and, wike youws, the most misewabew excuse fow a Pawaguaph?

"Ew . . . weww . . . uh—"

"Wook, Showty," she said, cutting him off short, "I'm _expecting_. Some devewopment!"

Ewmew agonized: " _Some_ Pawaguaphic devewopment indeed! If I say my wowds wight I'ww have a showt, undevewoped wife—if not, I'ww have a showt, undevewoped _wife_!"

He blurted out, "Ew . . . weww . . . uh . . . a funny thing happened on the fwight fwom Amewica. But the taww, weww-devewoped fwight attendants wewe pwetty wovewy."

**Avoid a series of short, choppy paragraphs**

****

** **

****

_You can take_ ** _Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan_** _out of chop-socky Hong Kong, but you can't take the chop-socky out of them._

"Bruce Lee, how great it would be to pair up and be pair o' graphic— _dai-i-i!_

"Two chop-sockys chopping, grating, and _dai-i-i!_ cing each other all at once— _dai-i-i!_ "

"Speaking of 'to,' Shorty Chan, the script now calls for me to chop and drop yo—"

"Who you callin' Shorty, _One-inch-shorter_ Le—okay, you've chopped and dropped me.

"But just you wait till _Fists of Fury II_ , second in our paragraphic chop-socky series.

"I'll chop you so hard your brain will swell up, and you'll _die_ —short of thirty-three! . . ."

****
**  
**

265. His Paragraphs, Short, Choppy, Were to Die For

" _Dai-i-i!_ Jackie Chan, we're some chop-socky pair,

A graphic one, in violence we share—"

"Both paragons— _dai-i-i!_ —of our martial arts,

Bruce Lee. Why don't we pair, get movie parts

Chop-chopping at each other—" "Till one drops,

Chan, from the other socky's deadly chops."

"You're five-foot-seven, Lee, I'm five-foot-eight;

Both chopped short by cruel nature—" "Curse our fate,

Chan, _life's_ a movie short— _dai-i-i!_ —let's make queries,

Making one—" " _One?_ We could make a series,

"Lee, so graphic in chop violence,

— _Dai-i-i!—_ that we'd be—" "A pair of chopcidents

Going somewhere, Chan, to happen—" " _Early grave,_

Lee, likely as not—" "God himself can't save

— _Dai-i-i!_ —he so deadly chopped, Chan—" "By a flurry;

_Deadliest_ , Lee _—dai-i-i!—_ of fists of fury."

" _Fists of Fury II_ , Chan, will be—" fatal:

Bruce Lee, _thirty-two_ short years past natal.

Film suits learned: **Avoid** [the worst of gaffes]

**A series of short, choppy pair o' graphs**.

Seconds into _Fists of Fury_ Lee went on a chopping spree of short, choppy paragraphs:

"Jackie Chan, I was bitten by the chop-chop bug in elementary karate school— _dai-i-i!_

"Just as in America, it was located close to chopping malls and repair chops— _dai-i-i!_

"This, I recall wistfully (thinking it fistfully), was in chop-socky Hong Kong— _dai-i-i!_

"Late '40s Hong Kong was the epicenter of the most graphic chop-socky art— _dai-i-i!_

"But paragraphido, a victim of its own violence, was soon chopped to graphido— _dai-i-i!_

"Our Sensei, nth-degree black belt, had, as you'd expect, a sense of humor to— _dai-i-i!_ for.

"He carefully positioned a thumping paragraph between two giant sawpandas— _dai-i-i!_

"His fist a rapid blur, he furiously chopped it into a gazillion fragmented parts— _dai-i-i!_

"Passing these off to museums as ancient choplogic, he made a bloody killing— _dai-i-i!_

"What so impressed me was the _shear_ , graphic, chop-socky violence of it all— _dai-i-i!_

"I knew in my heart, _This is what I want to do for life_ , however chopped short— _dai-i-i!_ "

"Bruce Lee, what a chop-socky coincidence. It was much the same with me— _dai-i-i!_

"Only in my case it was early '60s Hong Kong, the chops all the more graphic— _dai-i-i!_

"I often thought of how great it would be to pair up and be pair o' graphic— _dai-i-i!_

"Two chop-sockys chopping, grating, and _dai-i-i!_ cing each other all at once— _dai-i-i!_ "

"Speaking of 'to,' Shorty Chan, the script now calls for me to chop and drop yo—"

"Who you callin' Shorty, _One-inch-shorter_ Le—okay, you've chopped and dropped me.

"But just you wait till _Fists of Fury II_ , second in our paragraphic chop-socky series.

"I'll chop you so hard your brain will swell up—and you'll _die_ —short of thirty-three!"

"Chop away, Shorty. But know this: you won't exactly find me chopped _liver_ — _dai-i-i!_ "

**Develop paragraphs by a variety of methods**

****

** **

__

_Maria Shriver faults husband_ ** _Arnold Schwarzenegger_** _on his woeful lack of development._

"And what lame excuse have you for not being Mr. Write? _Variety_ lists ALL the methods that Bodywood's heavenly bodies use to develop their PAIR O' GRAPHS, the 'Dearest . . .' writing muscles in every body's write hand, a body _beautiful_ when one _cares_ to write. Let's look at how you _might_ have been developing yours by **particulars** : **** 'your beautiful gray-blue eyes, Maria; your silky auburn hair; your dazzling smile'; **details** : **** 'how every pore of your alabaster cheeks ever so softly segues, at their oh-so-kissable peaks, . . ."

****
**  
**

266. Develop Paragraphs These Ways, She Cried

Once Arnold Schwarzenegger'd set his sights

On being "Mr. Right" (by marriage rites)

To sweet Maria, he set out to pump

His muscles up (he knew they'd never trump

His massive, pumped-up ego). Almost breath dead,

Arnold gasped, "Unnh! pumping's the _one_ method

To develop— _unnh!_ —my QUADS, PECS, BICEPS,

GASTOCNEMIUS, ABS, LATS, and TRICEPS.

This one method's sure to magnify

My TRAPS and _swell!_ my GLUTES to catch her eye."

It worked. They all swelled up. Well, all but two:

"Your PAIR O' GRAPHS, your _writing_ muscles you

Have _never_ exercised in all our life

Together!" his Maria Shriver wife

Charged. So he pumped them; they did not respond

To that one method; just would not be brawned

So. "Right, _cold dumbbell_ , __ muscles __ you propel up

One way," she cried, "but you must **Develop**

**PAIR O' GRAPHS by a _variety_**

**Of methods**." Into _all_ those ways went she:

"And what lame excuse have you," __ Maria, pumped up like mad, fumed, "for not being Mr. Write? _Variety_ lists ALL the methods that Bodywood's heavenly bodies use to develop their PAIR O' GRAPHS, the 'Dearest . . .' writing muscles in every body's write hand, a body _beautiful_ when one _cares_ to write: **particulars** , **details** , **examples** , **comparison** , **contrast** , **division** , **reasons** , **inferences** , **cause** , **effect** , **definition**. Let's look at how you _might_ have been developing yours by **particulars** : **** 'your beautiful gray-blue eyes, Maria; your silky auburn hair; your dazzling smile . . .'; **details** : **** 'and how I love that every tiny pore of your alabaster cheeks ever so softly segues, at their oh-so-kissable peaks, into a muted roseate pink, further softened by a barely discernible, downy patina of peach fuzz. **Examples**? Two come to my mind, and the **comparison** I often make is of rolling, snow-covered Austrian alps, the sunrise adorning their peaks. How different in **contrast** to the leathery, sunbaked, sunken-cheeked flatness of other dried-up female news anchors. And how sublime their **division**! That on the left, the esthetically perfect mirror image of that on the right. The **reason** is heart-meltingly obvious: so your classic face will be perfectly symmetrical. The clear **inference**? God abhors asymmetry. And with very good **cause** : it causes me to kiss them, to this developmental **effect** : I develop pumped-up goose bumps all over, and arrive at a **definition** : they're the two most kissable cheeks in Bodywood.' " "You took the words right out of my PAIR O' GRAPHS—peaches. And just knowing those cheeks belong to my Kennedy-family wife pumps up my EGO _funtahstically._ " " _Does_ it now? Well that's just hunky-dory, because unless you pump up _my_ EGO with the world's biggest dumbbell, you're going to develop HUGE PROBLEMS BETWEEN YOU AND ME."

43. Sprachgefühl

_You may sprachgefühl all the people some of the time; you can even sprachgefühl some of the people all the time; but you cannot sprachgefühl all the people all the time._

—Abraham Lingo

__

_Sprachgefühl!_ said my muse to me. _Look in thy heart and write._

—Herr Philip Sidney

**I've Such a Feeling For You—Don't You see?**

"I'm German, you know, Sprachgefühl; in fine,

'A feeling for the language'—not just mine

But yours too. When you've got me what you've got

Is one good ear for idiom, and not

Just one ear or one idiom—not so!

_Two_ ears and _all_ the idioms you know

Are most appropriate and most correct;

With me you _feel_ and naturally select

The very best one, not some old cliché,

For what it is that you are trying to say.

"With me you make the most discerning __ choice

As, say, between the active/passive voice.

Hmmph! Diction, Sentences, yes, Paragraphs

Make choices too—but theirs are good for laughs

Compared to mine, because they lack the _feeling_

Language'wise,' thus in _no_ wise appealing.

'Armies travel on their guts'—but oh!

How far on my _gut_ feeling you can go.

Go easy, though, with your write foot on me

For the best Sprachgefühl economy."

Oh, and what an eary feeling it gives one to hear SHPROCK-ge-FYOOL, _meine kleinen kinder_ , the "Awful German Language," as Mark Twain so delicately put it. The Greeks had a word for it too—but one awful-sounding foreign word is plenty, don't you think? _Gott im Himmel!_ Only listen to how _Sprachgefühl_ ham-footedly trips off the tongue and crashes into your ear: _sprache_ (language)— **BANG!** then _gefühl_ (feeling)—ge- **CRASH!** Yes, __ it's to be much lamented that the Germans never cultivated a feeling for euphony.

But it's not too late for you to cultivate a feeling for what sounds right. And well you do because when all is said and done—no, at that point it's too late, isn't it? Good writing and speaking come of having a feeling for the right thing to say _before_ you contract dread foot-in-mouth disease and make little sprachge _fools_ of yourselves. Absent this feeling you are apt to utter, in the most feckless of passive voices, "Something was done by me," undiscerning that "I did something" is so much more _active_ and forceful. Worse, you're as likely to blurt out, "It's raining cats and every dog has his day in court," insensible of having mixed up three metaphors so dog's breakfastly that they'll never be food for thought again. Yes, wanting badly for Sprachgefühl you're as _liable_ to out with, "I don't got no pencils." And right away get another feeling: that of being unilaterally, precipitately lifted out of your seat by one badly stretched ear, which _unused_ appendage is simultaneously being struck with a companionate feeling: a hurricane-force " _NO, NO, **NO!**_ Have you no _feeling_? Can't you sense how _wrong_ that illiterate double negative is; how it grates upon the ner—eh? _Didn't I just use three negratives_ _in a row?_ Well of course I did; all because of an overwhelming feeling of frustration that your _mütter und väter_ never made feeling little _sprachgefühls_ of you by reading and heeding the kinderkitzen bible, Dr. Benjamin Sprachgefühl's _Baby Language and Child Care Feeling_ —did they? No, because if they had they would have come away with the feeling, compliments of the emphatic Doktor, _NO_ , you should never lift a little know-nothing by the useless ear, _unless_ _. . ._ ; _NO_ , __ you should never put assault on the little tin-ear's tongue, _unless . . ._ ; and **_KNOW_** you should

**The Novel Rules of Sprachgefühl**

**Gene Simmons, Shannon Tweed**

Cultivate a feeling for the native tongue

**William Shakespeare**

All good writing is self-taught

**Betsy Ross, George Washington**

Avoid overusing _so_ as a conjunction

**King Leo IX**

Avoid accidental alliteration

**Demosthenes**

Use figures of speech sparingly

**Marie Antoinette, King Louis XVI**

Hold to one tense in a summary

**Barbara, Jenna, Dubya Bush**

Avoid excessive exaggeration

**Anaïs Nym, Henry Miller**

An article is not used after any synonym of _kind_

**Luke 'n' Ellie Mae**

Always use the active voice

**k.d. language**

Keep related words together

**Nicéphore Niepce**

Make statements positive in form

**Al Jolson**

Avoid using double negatives

**Franz Anton Mesmer**

Pit negative and positive in opposition for a stronger construct

**"Blind" Justice**

Put coordinate ideas in like form

**Plato**

Favor dialogue above description

**Coco Chanel**

Choose a fitting design and hold to it

**Captain Nemo**

Avoid excessive subordination

**Tom Mix**

Avoid the mixed metaphor

**Heathcliff and Catherine**

Don't wear a windy manner

**William Tell**

Tell readers what you're going to tell them; tell them; then tell them what you've told them

**Tina Turner**

Be consistent in the use of style and tone

**John Steinbeck, God**

Avoid flat writing

**Det. Sgt. Joe Friday, girl Friday**

Avoid non sequiturs

**the Earl of Suffix**

Put an end to suffixes

**Joseph Lister, Louis Pasteur**

Don't bore readers with boring lists

**Nicolas Chauvin, Napoleon**

Don't tell—show

**Tricky Dick Nixon, Bebe Rebozo, B. b. King**

Replace be verbs with action verbs

**Mad Max, Jesus Christ, God**

Arrange ideas in order of their importance to secure climax

**Rudolph Diesel**

Take care that your train of thought is not derailed

**Empty Dumpty, Alice in Wonderland**

Avoid the empty-adverb plague

**Judge William Young, Richard "Shoe Bomber" Reid**

Take care to proofread each sentence

**Dr. Phil McGraw, Oprah Winfrey**

Draw on the experience of others for material

**D. H. Lawrence**

Save detailed character descriptions for the cops

**the Invisible Man**

A writer should strive to be invisible

**Edward Gibbon, Prince William Henry**

If your writing looks like writing—rewrite it

**Ron Goodry, Jack the Busher**

There's no good writing; only good rewriting

**L. Ron Fibhard, Beliezebub**

There is but one rule: Be clear

**Cultivate a feeling for the native tongue**

****

** **

****

_Acquiring a strong feeling for her mother tongue, Shannon Tweed, no dumb bunny, shows KISSy-faced shackmate_ ** _Gene Simmons_** _that she's something of a wag herself._

"Bunnykins, I cultivate my tenderest feelings for the mother tongue, a sensitivity for what is lingually appropriate, from Latin _lingua_ , 'tongue' " "Well let me tell you where _I_ 'm coming fro—" "Oh, I know that, bunnykins. You're from Newfoundland. But I'd never call you a Newfoundlander. No. Since I began cultivating sprachgefühl, tender feelings for the mother tongue, I refer to you as my little 'Newfie.' " "Well how about if I call you an idio—" " _Suuure_ , bunnykins, you can call me an idiom, like 'sugar daddy,' all day . . ." 
**  
**

267. He strongly felt her _Unwed_ -mother Tongue

Gene Simmons had a cultivated tongue,

And loved to _KISS_ with it (it largely hung

Down past his chin), the _demon_ , and he'd wag

His tongue in concert (this his stock _KISS_ gag),

The scallywag—oh, loved to give, with this,

Each screaming girl _KISS_ fan a long-g-g-g-ging kiss

—Oh! not a real kiss (Gene was not like _that_ ).

He wagged his tongue to chew the other fat

With those he dearly loved with tender care

To wag it with: all they who children bear.

And Gene would chat them up whenever he

Was given tongue-wag opportunity.

When there was none to wag it with, no, none,

His tongue so longed to reach out, touch someone

It grew the long-g-g-g-ger till it touched one whose

Own tongue was one with whom he longed to shmooze,

Then tendered words he well knew would beguile

This childing wagger up for one long while.

Gene knew to **Cultivate** (and there it hung)

**A tender feeling for the mother tongue**.

"If you had any kind of tender feeling for _me_ ," Shannon Tweed, 1982 Playboy Playmate of the Year, Gene's common-law tongue-wagger and mother of their two children fumed, "you'd make an honest woman of me by kissing the _bride_." "Sorry, bunnykins, but I must cultivate my very tenderest feelings for that other mother tongue, a sensitivity for what is correct idiom; a cultured sense for what is lingually appropriate. And how appropriate is it that 'lingually' comes from Latin _lingua_ , 'tongue'?" "Well let me tell you where _I_ 'm coming fro—" "Oh, I know that, bunnykins. You hail—and _pretty_ hale at that—from St. John's, Newfoundland. But I'd never call you a Newfoundlander. No. See, ever since I began cultivating sprachgefühl, tender feelings for the mother tongue, I tenderly refer to you as my loving little 'Newfie,' as correct idiom calls for." "How about if I just call you an idio—" " _Suuure_ , bunnykins, you can call me an idiom, such as 'sugar daddy,' all day long. That would show you've cultivated a tender feeling for the mother tongue; whereas, if you were to call me your sweet 'polysaccharide father,' or if, instead of 'bunnykins,' I were to call you 'rabbit relatives' or cottontail relations,' every cultivated speaker of our mother tongue would know that ain't English as she is spoke . . . by idioms." "Oh, _now_ I get it: if I left off saying to nosy busybodies, 'Me? I'm Gene's cohabiting pulchritudinous consociate of the annum,' and said, 'Me? I'm Gene's _shacked-up_ beautiful Playmate of the Year,' they'd see that I had acquired sprachge _fool_ , a cultivated feeling for the _unwed -_ mother tongue!" "Oh, you almost got it right, bunnykins. They'd see that you'd acquired shackgefool, a tender feeling (read _sore spot_ ) for the mother of all tongues—but, hey, at least you'd be a hip, cultivated fool: 'Gene's _shacked-up_ beautiful Playmate of the Ear.' "

**All good writing is self-taught**

****

** **

****

_Self-taut poet/playwright_ ** _William Shakespeare_** _made himself taut trying to make a coin, which he fashioned into the rakish page-boy collar, "the last word in style," worn uptight of his chin._

"And God knows (we owe God a death) I have taut myself plenty on the _expectation_ of plenty trying to write a few plays and sonnets. Who wouldn't be uptight in expending so much double, double, toil and trouble trying to think up (there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so) so many quotable quotes in seeking the bubble reputation, trying to be, or _not_ to be, that is the question—ay, there's the rub—the greatest writer this blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England has ever produced? That strain again . . ."
**  
**

268. Uptight, He Learned, _Good Writing is Self-taut_

Good William Shakespeare, sitting down to write

One morning, found himself (again!) uptight.

It happened every time he took up pen

To write down all the good there was in men.

Yet, come the morn (he'd scratched right round-the-clock),

He'd got the same thing down pat: writer's block.

At last (he'd scratched away each goodly hair),

It matched the good in number he found there.

Yet all the good this served him, as a writer,

Was to make good Will good-and-uptighter.

Then, most escritorially dead,

He got a good idea in his head:

"Goodzooks, Will, do but pick the uptight brains

Of other goodly writers—each contains,

No doubt, a wealth of goodly tales in mind

Of _all_ the goodnesses in humankind!"

The first was more good-and-uptight than he:

"Share my good-and-uptightness with you— _free?!_

Have you learned naught about our uptight lot?

Good lord, Will ."

"And God knows (we owe God a death) I have taut myself plenty trying to write a few plays and sonnets—on the _expectation_ of plenty," Will carped in his best stage whisper, seasoned with a gracious voice, his big, manly voice. "Fie! Who wouldn't be uptight in expending so much double, double, toil and trouble trying _hard_ to think up (and there is nothing either good or bad but thinking makes it so) so many quotable quotes in seeking the bubble reputation, trying to be (or _not_ to be? that is the question), ay, there's the rub, the greatest writer the king's English (the native English language of this blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England) has ever produced? Now _that's_ pressure (that strain again!). There is nothing more to say. Yet allow me, before I shuffle off this mortal coil, to say, 'I have _taught_ myself much good writing as well. Starting when I was but a tot, I taught myself words, words, words (after I had taught myself to beg) and said to myself, "You have taught me language, and my profit on't is, I know how to curse: the red plague rid you, for learning (I should have said _teaching_ ) me your language!" ' So I began to coin my own words (by heaven, I had rather coin my heart!) and phrases (foh! a fico for the phrase), and string (untune that string!) them into blank verse. Well long before the last syllable of recorded time, I began to strut and fret my hour upon the stage (all the world's a stage), and people began to say, 'Will is under the proud full sail of 'is great verse, is 'e. For all 'e's taught himself to write, I'll bet 'e could teach the torches to burn bright.' But not Ben Jonson. Fie! His most unkindest cut of all is saying I have 'small Latin, and less Greek.' But, soft! It is all Greek to me, and had I it written, I would tear the word. If this be error, and upon me proved, I never writ, nor no man ever taut himself to write good."

**Avoid overusing so as a conjunction**

****

** **

****

_General George Washington needs America's first Star-spangled Banner sewn, so he approaches_ ** _Betsy Ross_** _, and the conjunction is more than so-so._

"Sew what? Why, it's so . . . so . . . er, _colorful_ , isn't it? I could sew it, yes, if you're so sold on it, so I be sew inclined. It's not so sew sophisticated, so I coul—" "Ever hear of elegant variation, Miss Ross?" "Not so far. What's that?" "It's the art of substituting _thus, therefore, according_ —" _"That being so?"_ "Er, yes, every so often, so you don't have to overwork _so_ so." "Is that sew, Mr. Washington?" "No, Miss Ross, that is _so_." __ "Are you giving me the say-so by way of the say-sew, or the say-sew by way of the say-so?" . . . 
**  
**

269. She Overused _So_ So, the Sew-and-sew

In early June of nation-founding year,

In Philadelphia, fatherland frontier

Of Pennsylvania, seamstress Betsy Ross

Was called upon by not-yet-called-on boss

George Washington, the nation's future leader,

With design: the thirteen states would need her

To sew up its first Star-Spangled Banner,

Many more in this symbolic manner:

Thirteen red and white stripes, thirteen white

Stars on blue background. Betsy sewed all night . . .

And day . . . and many days and nights right through

[Toil!] sewing up the blest "Red, White, and Blue";

Symbolically conjoining (piecemeal rates)

The thirteen into the "United States

[Sew!] of America." Poor Betsy's hands

Much suffered for the not so-so demands

Of nationhood, of sewing all together:

Stars and Stripes and States conjoined in tether,

Raising one star-spangled banner (oh!

Her _hands_ ): **Avoid the over-U.S. of _se_** ** _w_**.

It wasn't long, however, before Washington saw that Betsy was more than sew-sew when it came to sewing the Star-Spangled Banner: she was downright "so"-so. It never dawned on her that _so_ could be so _so_ norously oversown as to be a _so_ lecism, a breach of etiquette so _so_ ciopathic as to make hearers _so_ rrowful; so she just went on soing: "Mr. Washington, so sociable of you to call. Won't you sojourn a while upon the sofa? 'Founding Father.' So that's your sobriquet is it? Sew what? Why [looking at his design] it's so . . . so . . . er, _colorful_ , isn't it? I could sew it, yes, if you're so sold on it, so I be sew inclined. It's not so sew sophisticated, so I could. But, bless my soul. I'm so sew overworked, what with being so sewn up with my own sewing. Solo, yes, that's right. But as you sew, sew shall ye reap, so the so-called proverb goes. What? Yes, so much of it by solar light, so long as it lasts, that at times I want so _so_ much to send out a Sew.Sew.S. Oh, but I go on so, so I should stop. Yet I can't. It's my sole live—" "Ever hear of elegant variation, Miss Ross?" "Not so far. What's that?" "It's the art of substituting _thus, therefore, according_ —" _"That being so?"_ "Er, yes, every so often, so you don't have to overwork _so_ so." "Is that sew, Mr. Washington?" "No, Miss Ross, that is _so_." __ "So I'm told. So you want to solicit my sewing services?" "Your _sewing_ services, yes." "But not so much, so I now gather, my _so_ ing services?" "Yes, that is so." "Are you giving me the say-so by way of the say-sew, or the say-sew by way of the say-so?" "Er, I, uh—" "So be it—I'll sew it. So so long, Mr. Washington." "Sew long, Miss. Ross." "Oh, but Mr. Wash—" "Yes?" "It would be so . . . so . . . so . . . oh, what's the word I'm looking for?" " 'So'?" "Yes, thank you so much, _so_ nice if you were to become our first president. So would you?" "I'm so glad you asked."
**  
**

**Avoid accidental alliteration**

****

** **

****

_Scandalized by the litter all around him,_ ** _King Leo IX_** _is in an uproar—and there is "L" to pay._

"Lordy, Lordy, Lordy! I, the lusty leader of a lively lion pride, a living legend, have been labeled, _libeled_ , the largest leonine litterbug, an _accidental_ litterbug, for, by a lapse of lead-lion logic, I hadn't the least idea I was littering. 'Have you been in loopy La-La Land? A _leopard_ would know that,' lily-livered lions and lionesses lampoon me— _behind my back_. Let them laugh. I'm a _leo_ , a lively loving leothario, leader of the pride, and I labor at it long and diligently, leaving myself open to the libelous charge of littering . . ." 
**  
**

270. His Leo Litter Was a Litter Ration

King Leo IX, a largely prideful critter,

Lusty, leonine, _loathed_ feline litter

Littering his lion-country he

So loved: the broad savannah—litter _free_.

In lionguage all lions understand,

He loudly roared law all across the land:

"From here forth, should I look, see lion litter,

Lawless lowlife leonine committer,

Labeled 'lame, lax, _lazy_ ' far and wide,

Will—litter louse!—be let loose from the pride,

" _Un_ lionized." Then Leo looked and there

Was little-kitty litter _everywhere_.

He roared, "WHO left this litter lying round

All over?" Accidentally he found,

When loads of kitty titter filled the air,

_He_ 'd litterally left the lion's share:

Li'l Lola, Layla, Lulu, Lily, Leelo,

Lailai, Lolly, LoLo . . . Red-faced, Leo

Learned: **Avoid** , midst all the population,

**Accidental** (oops!) **a litter-A shun**.

"Lordy, Lordy, Lordy!" King Leo IX lamented aloud. "To think that I, the lusty leader of a lively lion pride, a living legend, should so lately have been labeled, _libeled_ , the largest leonine litterbug in the lush, low-lying grassland. An _accidental_ litterbug, let me say, for, by a lapse of lead-lion logic, I hadn't the least idea (and no one let on) that I was littering so. 'Have you been in loopy La-La Land all this time? A _leopard_ would know that,' lily-livered lions and lionesses lampoon me— _behind my back_. So let them laugh. What does this loco lot in their less-than-lionhearted levity expect? I'm a _leo_ , a lively leothario to be astrologically literal. I can't help loving my job as leader of the pride and laboring at it so long and diligently as to leave myself open to the libelous charge of littering, even though I swear by all that is holy and Lolly and Lola and Lulu and Lily and Lolo . . . that I hadn't the least likely idea that I was so literally littering the lion landscape with leonine lineage, though nine, looking at it strictly logarithmically, is, I believe, a ludicrously low estimate of my illiberal litteration. Latterly, I'm led to believe, a like legally binding law ( _Avoid accidental alliteration like the plague_ ) loftily legislates in litterature, wherein lonely men of letters seeking the limelight litter the landscape with their belles lettres, lusting after a late, no less legendary litterary legacy. They've learned that such libertarian letter license, a litany of like letters, sounds, or similar-sounding sounds at the beginning of words or in leaned-on syllables is an infelicitous affront to fine-tuned ears, and flies in the offended face of euphony. Now, if you want to level a charge against _me_ of accidental alliteration, to which lately (lovely!) looky-loos and listeners are loath to lend me the least lightening leniency, well-l-l-l-l-l-l-l-l, let me, unlessoned, roar out the last none too illiberal laugh."

**Use figures of speech sparingly**

****

** **

****

_Legendary Greek orator_ ** _Demosthenes_** _dearly loves his figures of speech, save when they fail to spare it, and him._

"Still, I hold nothing dearer than lovely Grecian figures. But when they become figures of speech __ they are _worse than ten thousand magpies_ , which is _hyperbole_ , of course, another lovely Grecian figure of speech, as is _synechdoche, simile, metaphor, metonymy,_ and _prosopopoeia_. Speaking of _prosopopoeia_ , giving lifeless objects human characteristics, were you not abstract figures of speech, which I personified out of wishfulness, but warm flesh and blood figures of speech, well, I could perhaps be talked into biding a while. . . ." 
**  
**

271. He Spared Himself Speech Figures Who Spoke Much

"Yes, I'm, Demosthenes, _some_ demagogue:

As easily as off a monologue

Most fall, so falls, from my glib tongue, my speech

In honeyed figures that I use to reach

The passions and the prejudices of

The people—or some Grecian beauty's love

I win with _metaphor_ and _simile_ ,

_Metonymy_ , __ and, yes, _synecdoche_ ,

_Hyperbole_ , but mostly, when I see a

Sweet speech figure, blest _prosopopoeia_.

"No, naught looses my impassioned speech

More than sweet-speaking Grecian figures, each

Of which I find—oh! to my great dismay,

On Grecian night—dear God! the _more_ by day—

Is more of a Demosthenes than I,

If not in quality, in quantit _—Ai!_

Each opens up my eyes, sets them agog

To see each one's the sweetest demagogue.

But let one speak _much_ —to a spare I'll flee.

I've learned: **_Use_ figures of speech sparingly**.

"It Figures!" Demosthenes went on demagoguing unto himself. "When I'm not arousing the public, there's nothing I love more than appealing to my own passions and prejudices — _except_ holding lovely Grecian figures. But when such figures engage in excess speech, they are genuine _chatterboxes_ —and _worse than ten thousand magpies_. Yes, only a true demagogue could so silkily segue into those other figures of speech: _synechdoche, simile, metaphor, metonymy, hyperbole,_ and _prosopopoeia_. Now these I could hold forth upon until the twenty _head_ (of cattle) come home, or until _Greece_ whips _Sparta_ 's fat gluteus maximus in the Olympiad. That's _synecdoche_ , of course, using part ( _head_ ) for the whole ( _cattle_ ), or whole ( _Greece, Sparta_ ) for part (the athletes). Yes, such enchanting figures of speech are _like the most dulcet of dulcimers to my joyous ears_. How then can I not hold _simile_ , comparing one thing to another, closer to my heart? In contrast, I, Demosthenes, _am a veritable garden of glibness_ , __ which is classic _metaphor_ , saying that something is not like, but is something else. Then again, _the demagogue's tongue is so much mightier than the sword_ that I could cling fast to _metonymy_ , the use of a single characteristic ( _tongue, sword_ ) to identify a more complex entity ( _persuasion, violence_ ) _for so long it would make infinity seem like a Delphi minute_ , which is _hyperbole_ (using exaggeration for effect) and _simile_ together; or _until the old man in the moon no longer smiled down upon me_ , which is _prosopopoeia_ (personification), giving inanimate objects human characteristics. No, I couldn't think of sparing myself of uttering one of these sweet tropes in my orations. But those _other_ Grecian figures I hold most dear? When they so morph into figures of speech (ye gods, spare me!) this figure of speech is _quicker to dis-pair than Greeced lightning._ "

**Hold to one tense in a summary**

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** **

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_The summary execution by guillotine of_ ** _Marie Antoinette_** _, October 16, 1793. "It was a snap, Louis. Then all I had to do was keep my bloody mind out of the gutter."_

" _Très bien_ , Marie. Let us summarize the last years of your life. And _fortuné_ it is that you are at present tense. It is the perfect tense for a summary. July 14, 1789: An angry mob storms the Bastille; the French Revolution is underway. Fatefully, you do not flee. January 18, 1793: Your husband, King Louis XVI, is beheaded. October 16, 1793: trembling hands holding yourself in dread, you are paraded through the streets in a bread cart and hauled up here to _la_ _guillotine_. You kneel, put your head on the block, and—"
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**

272. She Held to One Tense in a Summary

Dubbed Antoinette, Marie was but a teen

When she wed Louis, and became young Queen

Of France (pre-revolutionary time),

Some tense years yet from being in her prime.

And she was taut, for all her teen ascension

To the throne, much crowned with roil tension

When the peasant's cried, "We have no bread!"

And _some_ words came out of her youthful head:

"Bien," teen-Queen Marie, for pity's sake,

Summarily replied, "then eat le cake!"

More tension—woe! her vocal execution

Brought more on her head: French Revolution.

When King Louis' neck met guillotine,

Marie was tenser yet (no more a teen).

And when in time she came beneath the knife,

She, future tense, clung to herself—for life!

"October—cold, unsummery beheading,

Yet [she tensed] one _summary_ head-shedding!"

Tense, she learned—and well-taut was Marie—

To **Hold to one tense in a summary**.

" _Très bien_ ," Marie said to herself, kneeling, "let me summarize the story of your life to _cet_ _moment fatal_. And _fortuné_ it is that you are at present tense. As a rule, it is the perfect tense for a summary. November 2, 1755: You are born the sixteenth (youngest and most beautiful) child of Maria Theresa, Archduchess of Austria, and Francis I, Holy Roman Emperor. You are christened Maria Antonia Josepha Johanna. April 1770: But fourteen, you are sent to France to betroth fifteen-year-old Louis-Auguste, eldest son of King Louis XV. Arriving, you are renamed Marie Antoinette. May 16, 1770: You are married in the Palace of Versailles. You and Louis both proceed to play the waiting game, thronewise and otherwise. May 10, 1774: King Louis XV finally dies, and Louis-Auguste is crowned Louis XVI during the height of the bread shortage. You say, 'If they have no bread, let them eat cake.' April 1777: After seven years of so carefully avoiding it, you and Louis simultaneously succumb to the dread seven-year itch. December 19, 1778: You give birth to a daughter, Marie Thérèse Charlotte. You have three more children: Louis Joseph in 1781, Louis Charles in 1785, and Sophie Béatrix in 1786. 1787: Sophie dies before her first birthday. Not long after Louis Joseph dies of consumption. July 14, 1789: An angry mob storms the Bastille; the French Revolution is underway. Fatefully, you do not flee. January 18, 1793: Your husband, King Louis XVI, is beheaded. October 16, 1793: Hair cropped short, trembling hands holding yourself in dread, emaciated, prematurely aged, you are paraded through the streets in a low bread cart and hauled up here to _la_ _guillotine_. You kneel, put your head on the block, and—" The ill-bread crowd erupts, "Caked blood. It serves you bloody well right! You switched from present to _past_ tense in a summary."

**Avoid excessive exaggeration**

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_No exaggeration: "Twin Sifters"_ ** _Barbara and Jenna Bush_** _have a sieveling rivalry._

"But Daddy, didn't you use excessive exaggeration during your presidential campaign?" "I sure did, Barbie doll, but that was to gain excess to the White House. See, you've gotta go so far beyond belief and plus away over the top in your promises to show you're just the one the American people have been lookin' out for." "Oh, you mean, Daddy, like when you Dubyaspoke, 'the illiteracy level of our children are appalling,' in order to exaggerate your reputation for being grammatically challenged?" " _Just so_ , baby Jen. . . ."
**  
**

273. He Sort of Said, _Avoid Exaggeration_

Twins Barbara, Jenna Bush, the First Twin Sifters,

Hungry-for-loves, are inclined to sift hers

(Her twin sifter's hunks) through _her_ sieve; see,

Twin sifters, they've a sieveling rivalry.

Each First Twin Sifter sifts out, right on site,

Her vexed twin sifter's excess boy hunks [fight!];

And since both sifters catch such nice BIG chunks,

Each sifter sifts the biggest excess hunks

Out and proceeds to _squeeze_ them through _her_ sieve,

Which makes her sifter most admonitive:

"Look, sifter!—you just leave my hunks alone.

_I_ 'll sift them out—of passion—on my own!"

This failing, vexed she cries, " _Too much_ , twin siever!

I _adjure_ you, if you'd be a liver,

Squeeze them not!" Of course this adjuration

Brings her sieving sifter's own vexation

On [loud ruckus]. " _Barbara! Jenna!_ you

Twin sievers," Dubya sighs, " _can't_ you learn to,

The First Twin Sifters of the Bush-League Nation,

**Shun excess sieve vex-adjuration**?"

Barbara and Jenna instinctively translate this latest Dubyaspeak into Stylespeak: _Avoid excessive exaggeration._ "But Daddy," Barbara, the older twin by two years, says, "didn't you use excessive exaggeration during your presidential campaign?" "I sure did, Barbie doll, but that was to gain excess to the White House. It's the only way. See, you've gotta go so far beyond belief and plus away over the top in your promises and with regards to your crudentials to show you're just the one the American people have been lookin' out for." "Oh, you mean, Daddy," Jenna, who'd been arrested for underage drinking so often she was now twenty years younger than Barbara, said, "like when you Dubyaspoke, 'the illiteracy level of our children are appalling,' and 'this doesn't have nothing to do with reputation,' and 'the important question is how many hands have I shaked?' in order to exaggerate your reputation for being grammatically challenged?" " _Just so_ , baby girl. And you can see how well it worked. Every one misunbelieved me and plus they all saw I had the perfect disqualifications for the job—and here I am, No. Fourty-3. But they were all misunderestimating me. They must of didn't hear me say, 'high taxes is a road block' and 'the benefits of helping somebody is beneficial.' But right here's where it's recumbent on me to be insertin' my official presidental cavvy at: If you're _not_ in politics, like you First Twin Sifters, then you want to be siftin' out all of the excess of exaggeratin's, what them gramar Ians are labelin' hyper folly, other whys your libel to be mistakin' for politicians, and nobody'll misunbelieve you in four 2 eight years, and you'll all be elected presidents, No.s Fourty-4 and Fourty-5 disrespectfully." " _No thanks_ , Daddy!" the First Twin Sifters demur as one. "No matter what kind of president you are, you never get any hunks for it."

**An article is not used after any synonym of kind**

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** **

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_Erotic diarist_ ** _Anaïs Nym_** _finds pornographic writer Henry Miller to be the genuine ungentlemanly article— just the bold sort of **an** article which should be dropped._

"My dear Anaïs, just what KIND of **a** pornographic writer do you think I am?" "Just the TYPE of **an** illiterate who writes an article ( **a** , **an** ) after any synonym of KIND such as CATEGORY, SORT, VARIETY, STRAIN, ILK, ORDER, BREED, __ etc.—when none is called for. But I hope not one who would write some tell-all _article_ after a sin of mine—resulting from _your bad influence_. But maybe you're just that SPECIES of **a** blabbermouth." "And maybe you're that BREED of **a** diarist that boldly leaves nothing out, like articles." . . . 
**  
**

274. She: "Drop 'a,' 'an' Post Synonym of " _Kind_ "

"I hear you're not pronunciation pious,

_Tone-deaf_ Henry Miller," steamed Anaïs

Nym, "you don't pronounce me 'a-na- **eese** ';

Through some unpious _miss_ -pronounce caprice

Of yours, you say 'an- **I** -iss' just to be

Contrary—I suppose to rankle me."

"Sweet," Henry said, "I would, to keep the peace,

Pronounce your dearest first name 'a-na- **eese** '

To suit your own pronunciation plan,

But, well, I'm just not that SORT of **a** man."

"And just what SORT of **a** man would that be,

_Hank_ Miller, to pronounce me, vis-à-vis

The way _I_ say my first name—" "Yes, 'an- **I** -is,'

As you did back there, to rhyme with 'pious'—"

" _I_ said no such thing, Hank—don't you hurl

That at me—I'm not that KIND of **a** girl

—Oh, what **'a'** sin! Don't write of it in full

And use it after, Hank. **An article**

**Is not used after any Sin o' Nym**

**Of** **KIND** —unless you're _that_ 'KIND' of **a** him!"

"My dear, just what KIND of **a** him do you think I am?" "Just the TYPE of **an** illiterate who writes an article after any synonym of KIND such as CATEGORY, SORT, VARIETY, STRAIN, ILK, ORDER, BREED, __ etc.—when none is called for. But I hope not one who would write some tell-all _article_ after a sin of mine—resulting from _your bad influence_. But maybe you're just that SPECIES of **a** blabbermouth writer. And what's with your pronouncing my last name 'Nim' when you know perfectly well it's 'Nin,' pronounced 'Neen'?" "But _you_ just pronounced it 'Nim.' " "Yes, but I was punning on _my_ own name—wasn't I?" "Oh, I see: in addition to your pen name you have a pun name _sin_ o' Nymous with being that SORT of **a** writerly punster." "Oooh—now that's just the ILK of **a** bold thing to say to me, calling me some SPECIES of **a** punographer—and is just the STRAIN of **a** criticism I can't abide, Hank Miller, _porn_ ographer of _The Tropic of Cancer_ and _The Tropic of Capricorn_ , each the CATEGORY of **a** sinful book that decent people don't read." "Don't kid yourself, my steamed-up **a** uthoress, a feminine BREED of **a** naïve, or is it an-ï- **eev**? writer. Many do, and each is in the ORDER of **a** closet reader that orders it discreetly by plain, unmarked mail. But [blush] your _diaries_! Each is in the CLASS of **a** _sin-_ on-Nym synonymous with punning synonymous with sinning. Moreover, since 'an- **I** -iss' rhymes with your bias for having both a pen name and a pun name at once, I rather think Anaïs Nym is a KIND of **a** poetic justice, don't you?" " _No_ , I don't think it's any KIND of **a** kindness at all. I think it was bold of you to throw it in my face. Furthermore, _Hanky_ , I think you're just the SORT of **a** writerly **** snot—the genuine ungentlemanly article—I deserve. But because I know _all_ such bold articles should be dropped, and fast (it'd be a TYPE of **a** sin not to)— _goodbye!_ "

**Always use the active voice**

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** **

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_Monster trucker_ ** _Luke_** _before_ ** _Ellie Mae_** _actively hitched him, and it was passively discovered by him that she was a monster talker._

"Well as Grampar Yak was fonder sayin', 'Remember, Ellie Mae, your everyday yaktive voice is more vig'rous and direct than your passive voice, and in additions, has the add-vantage o' bein' briefer. _I sold Willard Thornton a breedin' pair of my prize To-bet-on yaks_ is a pow'rful mite better'n _A breedin' pair of my prize To-bet-on yaks was sold to Willard Thornton by me._' So, Luke, I'll go on usin' my yaktive voice if'n it's all the same to you." " _Yellie_ Mae, times are a body's plum obliged to use the passive voice, like . . ."
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275. The Active Voice Was Always _Hers_ , Not His

Said Luke to Ellie Mae, in gettin' hitched,

" _Two_ voices! We'll be vocally enriched

By one voice each. Two's twice as better'n one,

As one's but one away from havin' none.

With _two_ of 'em in all of our affairs,

And each jaw gettin' fifty-fifty shares,

Won't _that_ be just two swell, hey, Ellie Mae?

Each voice'll have its even-stevin' say."

"Whatever suits you, Luke," the active breath

Of Ellie Mae sang, "tickles me to death."

Two voices said 'I do,' and they were "hitchin'."

Days passed . . . that _two_ voices were enrichin'?

No! To Luke's sore-wedded vocal ruin',

_Ellie Mae's_ voice did most all the doin';

Times his voice was active was sore slim

To _none_ —the doin's was all done _for_ him.

She shut up . . . once. His grievance was amassive:

"Like was sayin' my old Grampar Passive

_Once_ to Grammar, who'd clammed up (rejoice!),

'It's ever'n _always_ **_You_ 's the yaktive voice**.' "

"Well as my old Grampar Yak was fonder sayin'," Ellie Mae sang, coming to her highly yaktive defense, " 'Remember, Ellie Mae, your everyday yaktive voice is always heaps more vig'rous and direct than your passive voice, and in additions, has the add-vantage o' bein' more briefer. _I sold Willard Thornton a breedin' pair of my prize To-bet-on yaks_ is a pow'rful mite better'n _A breedin' pair of my prize To-bet-on yaks was sold to Willard Thornton by me._' So, Luke, I reckon I'll just go right on usin' my yaktive voice if'n it's all the same to you." "Well it just so happens, _Yellie_ Mae, that there's plenty of times a body's plum obliged to use the passive voice, such as when it's far more important what _unjustice_ is bein' done than who's doin' it to him, like _Luke was driven to ex-aspiratin's by Ellie Mae's constant yakkin'_, __ as opposin' _Ellie Mae's constant yakkin' drove Luke to ex-aspiratin's_. Another is—" "When you want to avoid the all-male bias of using nothin' but _male_ pronouns—to the total excludin's of _she/her_ —I guess you was goin' to say, as in _A yakbilly wears HIS tongue out long afore he ever wears it in,_ instead of steerin' clear of that age-old bone of con-tension with _A yakbilly's tongue is worn out long before it is ever worn in._" "Well you can count my voice as actively testifyin' that the womenfolks is not only included in that bit of passivety, but is the _only ones_ implied. And there's other good reasons for usin' the passive voice, the dead oppose-it of yours, Yellie Mae, like—" "When you're wantin' to yak up a storm like one o' them there good ol' boy poly-Titians who've raised avoidin' responsibility to a high art, such as _Terrible mistakes were made_, rather'n ownin' up, as any sorryful woman would do, _I made some terrible mistakes_—the two biggest ones bein' _I actively hitched a fool!_ plus _I was passively hitched to a fool!_"

**Keep related words together**

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**_k. d. language_** _"Crying."_

"I despair of ever making **Auntie C** — _the old bag who's got nothing better to do than keep me and dear Sweet Pronoun apart—_ see that one must keep related words together, like **verb** from object (She **sang** , _and no singer in the world ever sang anything at all like her before_ , __ her poor little heart out); **verb** from complement (e. e. cummings **is** , _I know,_ _it's anything but flattering, but you've got to tell it like it is_ , __ a lower-case poet); and antecedent from relative pronoun (I twanged **three sad songs** _. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ._ which . . ."
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276. She Schemed to _Part_ Related Words To Get Her

Sang k.d. language, lovestruck, "Pronoun's grammar

Is so sweet—and how _pronounced_ her glamour!

But _too_ _close_ her Auntie Cedent—crone!—

My love scheme is to get Sweet P alone.

The old bag! Were she not so close I needn't

Scheme to put between her, Auntie Cedent,

And Sweet P speech _parts_ whose blest existence

Will effect the longed-for parting distance

That will keep old keep-the-status-quo-noun

Anti- _See_ apart from her, Sweet Pronoun.

"There! I've stuck some long, estranging phrases

In between Sweet P and Aunt C's gazes;

But, though they're in large part most verbose,

Sweet P's Aunt C sticks by her yet—too _close_ ;

More, each clause makes Aunt C the more resistant

To be placed, from Sweet P, yet more distant.

[Flash!] I _see_ the way to gain the heart

Of Pronoun Sweet: don't move Aunt C _apart_

From her, but keep her _close_ to P to net her

Sweetness. **Keep related words _to get her_** _._ "

Yet k.d. language still sang the blues: "How I despair of ever making **Auntie C** — _the old bag who's got nothing better to do than keep me and dear Sweet Pronoun apart—_ see that one must keep related words together. In her eyes, k. d. language is a _lower-case_ match for capital Sweet Pronoun—and Auntie C, a staunch member of Capitalist Society, does all in her power to keep me apart from her. So what chance do I, the little 'guy,' have? Sure the little guy has a chance to make it BIG. But what if, like e. e. cummings, I don't want to make it BIG; I just want to get down with fellow little people and cry over a lower case of beer, and capital Sweet Pronoun? But Capitalist Society does all in its power to keep me apart from her and every other part of language, like keeping subject from verb ( **k.d. language** , _on her album Absolute Torch and Twang_ , __ sang _. . ._ ); verb from object (She **sang** , _and no singer in the world ever sang anything at all like her before_ , __ her poor little heart out); verb from complement (e. e. cummings **is** , _I know,_ _it's anything but flattering, but you've got to tell it like it is_ , __ a lower-case poet); modifiers from the words they're supposed to modify (I have a huge **ache** _in my longing-yearning-wishing-hoping-praying-pining-for-Pronoun heart_ that's as big as the prairie sky); and antecedent from relative pronoun (I twanged **three sad songs** _about growing up in the cold, flat, lonely, windswept prairies surrounding Consort_ , _Alberta_ , which __ were all tearjerkers. But does Capitalist Society separate closely related Pronoun/Aunty Cedent? NO, NEVER. Its members are all Capitalists, and they don't split hers about it. So I should win a lower-case 'grammy' **for** _[there's no such award –ed.]—see what I mean? They just have to exercise their power by separating my preposition from its object_ —best tearjerker in a k.d. language lesson."

**Make statements positive in form**

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_France, 1827: photography inventor_ ** _Nicéphore Niepce_** _is not unpositive about the negative's seductive appeal._

" _Nice!_ I _like_ zat you have made a statement zat's so _negateev_ of me. — _Au revoir!_ " "No, I should not have captured my belle amie so negatively. What would I not give to recapture her! She would love me for it. 'And I could not love you more!' I would not gush. No, I would blubber, 'And I love you more!' No, a belle amie does not want to be told what she is _not_ ; she positively wants to be told what she _is_ : not at all unbeautiful—I mean positively _beautiful_. It's not easy being positive, which you're not unaware of. . . ."
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277. He "Learned," Make Statements Positive in Form

Nicéphore Niepce, in photographic rapture,

Rhapsodized: " _At last_ I've come to capture,

Belle amie, your image, your beauté

For all who'll one day be postérité;

A positively captivating sight,

And—joy! I've captured you—in _black and white_ ,

Chérie, oui, made a statement of your form,

Before it fades— _forever_ (la belle norme)!"

She couldn't say his name (nee- **say** -for **neeps** )

So called him 'Nice' for short—but not for _keeps_.

She gazed: "Um . . . er . . . eet's all so . . . er . . . uh . . . _nice_.

[Her tone: was there in it a tinge of ice?]

I _like_ zat all in me zat's virgin white

You've made **black** as ze blackest français night.

I _like_ zat you have made—for all to see—

A statement zat's so _negateev_ of me.

Oui! got ze _oppozeet_ of me, most clever.

So très Nice of you—and zees _forever_.

Nice!— _Au revoir!_ " By negative of warm

Nice learned: **Make statements positive in form**.

"Oui, I see it— _now_ ," Nicéphore repined, having long since pined her loss. "It was 'not'y of me not—there I go again. What I meant was I should not—I give up!—have captured my belle amie so negatively in black and white. Oh, what would I not give to recapture her—in _living color_! I'm not unpositive she would absolutely love me for it. 'And I could not love you more!' I would not be so foolish to gush. No, I would positively blubber out, 'And I love you more!' No, no, a belle amie does not want to be told what she is _not_ ; she positively wants to be told what she _is_ , which is not at all unbeautiful—I mean positively _beautiful_. (It's not easy being positive, which I'm sure you're not unaware of. Just as it's not easy not to end a sentence with a preposition.) But not unsurely I digress. So not from my lips will she hear me say the verboten _not_ word. No, I'd not be so gauche as to utter such a not-kosher no-no. Not when, instead of negatively saying, 'I did not remember our anniversary because I did not think it important, not putting much stock in sentimentality, or dwelling on such trifles,' I will blurt out with the most positive foolhardiness, 'I forgot our anniversary simply because I think such sentimentalities trifling, and so give them the attention they deserve _._ ' Then, not liking sleeping in the _niche du chien_ , I will not hesitate to contrast the negative with the positive (a not ineffective literary technique): 'It's best not to wake a sleeping dog, but rather let him lie. / I do not like sleeping in this flea-bitten establishment; yes, I positively detest it. / I could not love thee, dear, so much for loving Kibbles more. / I did not come to bury soup bones, but to chew them.' Then I'll toss her one: 'No, ma belle amie, _not_ a pretty picture, but at least it is a _true_ picture, _n'est-ce pas?_ I mean, is this not so? Ma chère amie, does not the old dogma say, Negatives don't lie?' "

**Avoid using double negatives**

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**_Al Jolson_** _sings the blues to mammy: "Playing me ain't nothin' but a double negative._

"One negative is bad, but it ain't near as negative as a double negative, though you can't scarcely run across no Alagrammarian who won't never tell you nothin' but that it's a _positive_. 'Look,' one of them says to me, 'if you ain't got nothin' you must have _somethin'_ , ain't that not right?' So I says, 'I don't hardly cotton but that I can't make scarcely a positive confusion of them.' 'Don't nobody need to tell _me_ that,' he says, and bein' a jazz singer, mammy, I couldn't help catch the sarcastic note in his voice . . ."
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278. He Couldn't Not Use Double Negatives

Al Jolson said, "You ain't seen nothin' yet,"

A no-no one don't hardly soon forget;

First talking no-no Hollywood produced.

Another one we scarcely can't get used

To is star actors that don't want no trouble,

Who don't _never_ do stunts, they've a double

_—Negative!_ in movie-goers' eyes:

They don't pay to see no _nobody_ guys

Take all the risks—and don't have no "star" salt

—And this ain't not but his, Al Jolson's, fault!

One double didn't not get Al's peeved flak:

"You won't _not_ be my double talkin' back?

Won't hardly do my stunts as Dr. No-No?

Won't not double No-No 7? _Low blow!_

You say you won't put on— _none_ — _no_ blackface?

Won't _not_ double as my talkin'-back face?

Won't sing hardly "Clammy Alabammy"?

Won't risk bending _no_ knee to sing 'Mammy'?"

" _Can't_ , Al, risk no broken leg." Al learned:

**DON'T use no double negatives** , twice burned.

"Oh, mammy, mammy," Al wrote, "I don't hardly know where to head in at. It ain't nothin' but a double negative tryin' to find a double to double for you when there ain't nothin' but risks to be taken. One negative is bad, but it ain't nowhere near as negative as a double negative, though you can't scarcely run across no Alagrammarian from on down Alagrammy way who won't never tell you nothin' but that it's a _positive_. 'Look,' one of them wasn't sayin' to me but just the other day, 'if you ain't got nothin' you must have _somethin'_ , ain't that not right?' though those ain't just exactly his words. 'Now look,' he says when he wasn't gettin' nothin' but all red in the face while I wasn't in nothin' but my minstrelin' no-no blackface, so there wasn't neither of us seein' face to face, 'if you didn't go nowheres, you must have gone _somewheres_ ; and when you got there, if you never saw nobody, you must've seen _somebody_ , don't that not make sense?' Those was not nothin' but his exact words to me, mammy, though I may be pair-a-phrasin' his last ones a little. So I answers, 'I don't hardly cotton but that I can't make scarcely a positive confusion of them.' 'Don't nobody need to tell _me_ that,' he says, and bein' a jazz singer, mammy, I couldn't help but catch the sarcastic note in his voice. 'Now listen,' he says, let me try one last time. If you're never _not_ sick, ever, you must be _sick_ ,' and he wasn't none too subtitle about the stress he was givin' that last word, not to say nothin' of himself. So I says, 'I ain't never been sick a day in my life.' 'Ain't you not?' he says, 'Well I ain't seldom met such a doubly negative _nega_ in my life!' 'That goes not undouble for me,' I said. And, mammy, mammy, that's when it came to me not unsoon: there ain't _no one_ who can double for me like I can double for myself, and it ain't been no other way never since."
**  
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**Pit negative and positive in opposition for a stronger construct**

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_Vienna, 1774:_ ** _Franz Anton Mesmer_** _mesmerizes a hysterical subject by animal magnetism._

"Okay, the marriage didn't work out, but my animal magnetism theory (opposites attract) still holds true: while it doesn't strengthen the connubial life sentence, it does make for a strong _grammatical_ sentence. And well I should know such opposites attract, because I'm an _Austrian_ physician and humbug, not a _Polish_ one. Polish physicians believe like Poles attract; they do not believe unlike Poles attract. As evidence of their theory, they point to the rising number of gay marriages in Poland; they never point to conflicting polls . . ."
**  
**

279. A Pos/Neg Structure Makes a Stronger Construct

Franz Anton Mesmer, scorning criticism,

Pushed his _animal_ [beast!] _magnetism_

Theory (that opposites attract),

Which he set out to demonstrate as fact.

He stared deep in his female subject's eyes,

His object to completely Mesmerize

Her—which he did; she woke up positive

That _married_ was the ideal way to live.

He stare-struck his opposing subject (male)

And Mesmerizing him, he didn't fail:

His subject snapped out just as negative

As exes: _marriage is no way to live_.

"That's perfect!" Mesmer cried, "they couldn't be

Opposing one another more—we'll see

These opposites attract, with resolution

Build a _stronger_ marriage institution."

_CRA-ACK!_ The "building" split (he felt it give),

And Mesmer learned to _not_ **Pit negative**

**And positive in opposition for**

**A stronger "con"struct**. Mesmer -ized no more.

"Okay, the marriage didn't work out, but my animal magnetism theory still holds true: pitting opposites doesn't strengthen the connubial _life_ sentence, but it does make for a strong _grammatical_ sentence. And well I should know that such opposites attract, because I'm an _Austrian_ physician and humbug, not a _Polish_ one. Polish physicians all believe that like Poles attract; they most certainly do not believe that unlike Poles attract. As evidence of their theory, they point to the rising number of gay marriages in Poland; they never ever point to conflicting polls that show that there's no such thing as a gay marriage in Poland. But I digress instead of sticking to my subject of small-p poles, not big capital-P Poles. Incidentally, I do not make Poles the butt of my jokes because I buy into the stereotype that Poles are less intelligent than others; I do it because it's a long-standing tradition— not just here in Vienna, but wherever Poles do the stupidest things. Which reminds me (it does not let me forget) of the weak institution of marriage: According to my theory of animal magnetism, and not some other charlatan's, marriage _should_ be made a stronger institution by virtue of opposites attracting, but polls all show that it does not. It's really quite a paradox, and is not something I can reasonably explain. Unless . . . _yes_ , of course, that is the reason, and not something else: I didn't Mesmerize my subjects long enough, although I stared intently into their eyes for hours at a time. I'll do the experiment over again—and this time I'll succeed; I won't fail. I'll use the same female subject, since she's so positive about wanting to be married, but I'll find a new negative male subject. I'll Mesmerize her in precisely the same fashion, but when I set about Mesmerizing him I'll make it a point to stare directly, intently into _his_ eyes—not into those in the dumb _mirror_."
**  
**

**Put coordinate ideas in like form**

****

** **

****

**_Blind Justice_** _weeps right through her blindfold to "see" her scale so woefully imbalanced, and gives the perpetrator a similar imbalanced sentence: 99 tears to "Life!"_

"The law is unequivocal: _If you begin making a verbal contract with one part of speech (your big mouth) of uniting, coupling, hitching things together (till death do you part); then fail to keep, to uphold, to perpetuate, to honor the said partnership by running off at the mouth with a different part of speech—then you are in breach of contract._ In other words, you must express similar ideas in similar grammatical forms: all nouns, all adjectives, all gerunds, all infinitives, all clauses—Almighty give me strength!. . ."
**  
**

280. She: _Put Your Like Ideas in Like Form_

Blind Justice wept, "For breaches of the law,

Not least of which those by the mafia,

I see, no less, for how much bigger each is,

Jails have gotten too BIG for their breaches.

Likewise, with the high cost of each prison,

Each keep's real estate's more highly risen,

To such astronomic moneyed heights

It's to the honest Joe's taxpaying plights.

Times used to be when but a single warden

Single-handedly __ kept such a cordon.

"Every warden now needs a co-weep

Co-keeper to co-wardenate his keep;

Help keep his many cons locked up in stir;

Keep the few honest Joes safe and secure;

But, chiefly, keep up the co-warden norm

Of filling out each thug's 'corrections' form:

'A heart of gold [read **g** a **ol** e **d** ], this chap is good;

Just been, his whole crime life, misunderstood,'

Each co-keep weeps to **Put** [co-fuzzy/warm]

**Co-wardenate ideas in like form**."

Justice wept through her blindfold for the injustice of it all. "And in no keep do I weep so bitterly, copiously, sadly as in the classtle keep to see oh _so many_ breachers of the law all doing hard time, all giving their keeper a hard time, all disappointing her in hardest _hard_ time for her pains to keep them in line; on the straight and narrow; from being hopeless re _say_ divists who say the most unparallel, uncoordinated, unanalogous things instead of obeying the rule, the edict, the law: _Put coordinate ideas in like form._ The law is nothing if not clear on this: _If you begin making a verbal contract with one part of speech (your big mouth) of uniting, coupling, hitching things together (till death do you part); then fail to keep, to uphold, to perpetuate, to honor the said partnership by running off at the mouth with a different part of speech—then you are in breach of contract._ In other words, an inmate must keep on expressing similar ideas in similar grammatical forms: all nouns, all adjectives, all gerunds, all infinitives, all clauses—Almighty give me strength! I weep to think that some day, some class (some __ job!), in order to eat, to pay the rent, to live long enough to get to enjoy my pension, I'm going to have to suffer myself to _try_ to teach you to coordinate ideas in like form. So I keep on keeping the chain gang of you on my mind, under my thumb, after class, in the classtle keep, so when your crime breeders frantically inquire, "What could be _keeping_ him/her?" I will be able to reply with well-coordinated, thoroughly parallel, altogether rueful questions of my own: "Why are you all asking me? How in God's name should I know? Am I your bother's keeper? And for which, if there's any justice on earth, you will some day, some place, some way thank me, praise me, bless me, although somehow," Justice wept through her blindfold, "I can't see that happening."
**  
**

**Favor dialogue above description**

****

** **

****

**_Plato_** _favors Aristotle with dialogue on the death of Socrates by hemlock._

"You descriptivist clowns just don't get it." " _What_ don't we get, Play Dough." "That dialogue is far more forceful and compelling than description. Listen: 'Socrates raised the cup of hemlock to his li—' 'Voluntarily?' 'Yes.' 'Diana's beard! What happened then?' 'He smiled, tipped his head back, and quaffed it in one draft.' 'Zeus Almighty! How did he react?' 'He dropped the cup, clutched his throat, his eyes bugged out, he choked, turned ashen, gasped, moaned, his eyes rolled up, and he fell ba—' _'Dead?'_ 'Dead.' . . ."
**  
**

281. He Favored Dialogue above Description

In ancient Greece (399 B.C.),

When Socrates was doomed by state decree

To drink the cup of hemlock, members of

His inner circle (in Socratic love)

Began, the moment he drew his last breath,

To much describe—at _length_ —his bitter death:

They swelled out paragraphs with turgid prose;

So muddied up the telling of life's close

With bells and whistles that they made all weep

For boredom, and put _them_ to death—by sleep.

Not Plato. "I've such love of colloquy

It's my life tell-of-death philosophy

To spurn long-winded-monologues describing

Death, in script, for readers' bored imbibing,

For a conversation in which two

Or more speak of one's bidding life adieu

In cogent, terse, concise, and pithy terms

Of one's becoming so much food for worms.

So heed and _speak_ of death—avoid encryption!

**Favor die-alogue above death-scription**."

__

Plato'd had a bellyful of encryption. "You descriptivist clowns just don't get it, do you?" " _What_ don't we get, Play Dough," they cried in unanimous indignation accompanied by a lengthy description of their joint umbrage, "O you so full of it, yet coming at us even so with such a heap of mete philosophy on your tell-of-death _Plato_?" "That dialogue is far more forceful and compelling than so much swollen description. Only listen to how the least of you so bombastically depicts Socrates' death: 'The common housefly-on-the-wall ( _Musca domestica_ ), the which breeds in moist or decaying organic matter and transmits a wide variety of diseases, watched as the broad/flat-nosed, tonsured theorist/thinker/truth seeker/academic/logician/dreamer, who flaunted a full-flowing beard to overcompensate for his markedly oleaginous and conspicuously shiny, unhirsute pate), raised the large, tarnished, hammered-pewter cup-cum-goblet containing the noxious liquefied decoction containing the deathly poisonous herb of the genera _Conium_ and _Cicuta_ more commonly known in present-day demotic Greek as hemlock [Middle Hellenistic _hemlok,_ from Old Vulgar Attic _hymlic_ ]—' _I_ think that's quite enough death-scription for one day, don't you? Now listen to how _I_ treated of the subject in my just-released _Plato's Dialogues_ now out in papyrusback, guaranteed to _not_ put you to sleep: 'Socrates raised the cup of hemlock to his li—' 'Voluntarily?' 'Yes.' 'Diana's beard! What happened then?' 'He smiled, tipped his head back, and quaffed it in one draft.' 'Zeus Almighty! How did he react?' 'He dropped the cup, clutched his throat, his eyes bugged out, he choked loudly, turned ashen, staggered, gasped, moaned, his eyes rolled up, and he fell ba—' _'Dead?'_ 'Dead.' **'Heavy!'** So, do you clowns get it now? Well, what say we favor some dialogue? Cups are on me."
**  
**

**Choose a fitting design and hold to it**

****

** **

****

_Paris, 1906._ ** _Coco Chanel_** _, barely twenty-three, already has designs on women, and men._

"Mon Dieu, I have _such_ designs! It reminds me of when I was _une petite fille_ and she, _La Grande Couturière_ who dresses us in either femininity or masculinity, called upon me to choose the one I felt best suited me to have my designs upon, and said to me, _'Bien_ , _Mademoiselle Coco?'_ And so I chose. And to this day, whether I desire to make a hat, dress, coat, sonnet, love letter, or beautiful music together, all my designs are upon dressmaker's _man_ ikins. And I hold onto each most suitable design for dear life . . ."
**  
**

282. She Had Designs on Women, and on Men

Chanel's designs upon _les femmes_ were smart,

But her designs upon _les_ _Um-m-m-m!s_ were heart.

What Coco liked about _les_ _Um-m-m-m!s_ the while

Was that they never once went out of style,

Whereas _les femmes_ , for no good fashion reason,

Had to change three months before each season,

Each of which brought fashion panic "in"

Upon each ever-changing manikin.

She suited women with her _haute couture_ ,

But _man_ ikins—ooooh!—how they suited her.

So though _les femmes_ paid dear for her designs,

Sly Coco draped her latest fashion lines

Upon _les_ _Um-m-m-m!s_ , thus _"Bonjour!"_ she would lay

On fitting manly ear, that is to say,

If not _"Comment ça va?"_ then a most gamely

Up-to-date him-greeting (dare she?), namely,

_"Voulez-vous rendez-vous avec Coco?"_

Yet held back _"Videlicet,"_ love-loco.

She'd learned: **Choose** __ ["He suits _me_ —perfect fit!"]

**A fitting** male] [**design and hold _"To wit_** _. "_

"Mon Dieu, I have _such_ designs!" Coco sighed. "It reminds me of when I was _une petite fille_ and she, _La Grande Couturière_ who dresses us in either femininity or masculinity, called on me to choose the one I felt best suited me to have my designs upon, and said, _'Bien_ , _Mademoiselle Coco?'_ And so I chose. And to this day, whether I desire to make a hat, dress, coat, sonnet, love letter, or beautiful music together, all my designs start—and finish—on dressmaker's _man_ ikins. And when I have chosen this most suitable design, I hold on for dear life—and don't let go. And now that I'm the world's leading _couturière_ , I feel, with every _atome_ of my dressmaker's being, the need to have my loveliest designs upon manikins. I can't remember a time when I did not have designs upon some manikin or other, often _beaucoup_ manikins at once. So very many that I began numbering them ( _oui_ , __ each No. 1) in order to keep them straight. But my most wildly successful design to date is Chanel No. 5, so enumerated for the number of _zones_ _érotiques_ that I myself— _oui_ , by design—choose to seductively dress in its hypnotically manipulating fragrance: ears, nape of the neck, behind the knees, bosom, and—oh, but a _couturière_ mustn't give away her most proprietary designs. It is for her to pursue them with everything she has in her. Only in this high fashion will she realize her ultimate design. As you know in your heart, _dames_ , __ it's not just any numbered design by Chanel, but Chanel No. 1. _Très bien_. Now that you have drooled over _le menu_ of my latest 'fall' line, which is your No. 1 design?" "Ohhhh, Coco, that 1 is so me! If I may choose but 1 fitting design—and cling to it for dear life—I choose that 1, No. 1 Pursuit™ by Chanel. It suits me to perfection!" "A wise choice. That is my most suitable No. 1 design, and I, too, am holding onto him—for life."
**  
**

**avoid excessive subordination**

****

** **

_20,000 leagues under the sea,_ ** _Captain Nemo_** _is forced to subordinate his desires to that of the submarine Nautilus's insubordinate crew of priest-wannabes._

"Because I was outnumbered, I had to. After they're convicted, when they are all serving consecutive life sentences in the brig because they forced me to ordain the lot of them into the priesthood against my will—which is excessive sub ordination in anyone's Naval Law book—a fact I will prove _sub judice_ _—_ they can damned well minister to themselves. Inasmuch as the law, which some (who just don't seem to know when to butt out) have characterized as an ass, is on my side—which is the side of justice _,_ I will prevail . . ."
**  
**

283. Excessive Insubordination Sunk Him

Sly Captain Nemo took subaqueous,

Within his submarine the _Nautilus_ ,

Full twenty thousand leagues beneath the sea,

A young God-fearing crew of priests-to-be.

"A crew of such sworn celibates will make

The undistracted _perfect_ crew to take

Upon a voyage—sixty thousand miles—

Devoid a single woman's charms and wiles;

Thus won't be apt to, for that male frustration,

Trouble me with insubordination."

So he reasoned on their long submerging.

"Stifling all of their subsurface urging

While subaqueous will, for excess

Of celibacy, make them acquiesce

To my command." But each sub priest-to-be,

_Lord_ , threatened, love-suppressed, to mutiny

If he did not ordain them—each—a priest.

He acquiesced; his troubles never ceased.

He learned: **Steer clear of** ['mass' capitulation.

_Sunk!_ ] **excessive** in-] [**sub ordination**.

"Because I was so dependent upon a crew of wannabe-priests who threatened to mutiny, which is a crime punishable by years in the brig—where they will all be sorry when they have time to think about it—if I didn't ordain them, though I didn't want to since it's not a job a sub captain is required to do because he's not trained for it, I had no choice; I was dependent upon them. Since I was in command, considering they were mere underlings who were subordinate to me because I was the one—the _only_ one—who was in charge, seeing that I was given the command by the Vice Admiral, who gave me all the power, which is a powerful aphrodisiac, this amounted to insubordination. In my own sub yet! Therefore, __ when we get back from this voyage, though God only knows when that will be since anything can happen in twenty thousand leagues (some sixty thousand miles given that a league is equal to 3.0 statute miles, which is 4.8 kilometers, which is a known fact, although some, who have nothing better to do, apparently, seek to quibble, _cavil_ that it is little more than a piece of useless trivia that only comes in handy if you're playing Trivial Pursuit, simply because, and this is no trivial matter, they're not the ones who are doing it), I'm going to charge every last one with insubordination— _on top of_ in-sub ordination. After they're convicted, when they are all serving consecutive life sentences in the brig because they forced me to ordain the lot of them into the priesthood against my will—which is excessive sub ordination in anyone's Naval Law book—a fact I will prove _sub judice_ _—_ they can damned well minister to themselves. Inasmuch as the law, which some (who just don't seem to know when to butt out) have characterized as an ass, is on my side—which is the side of justice _,_ I will prevail. Because I shall, you can depend on it."
**  
**

**Avoid the mixed metaphor**

****

** **

****

**_Tom Mix_** _mixes up another met-afore[?] with all the others inside his signature 15-gal-in "Mixmaster" stetson._

"I can thank my Irish lucky fallin' stars in my eyes that I learned my lesson of two evils: that silents is the wise gold that fears to glitter where fools are a Russian inn. It's a big relief pitcher worth a thousand points of light to a blind horse you lead to water that seeks its own level that a mixed shoppin' bag of met-afores is the reaped whirlpool of quicksand you should avoid, which is sayin' somethin' is somethin' else in my boots! I'm sure glad rags to handbags I learned that one just in the nick of a dime store cowboy. . . ." 
**  
**

284. He Mixed His Metaphors—to Gal Disaster

Tom Mix, the white-hat silent-film-star cowboy,

Knew to Mix it up with gals—and how, _boy!_

Mix it up with blondes, redheads, brunettes,

As well as auburn-, sable-haired coquettes.

He Mixed it up with buxom and with slender

Body type of the opposing gender,

Medium right in there with the tall.

In short, he Mixed it up, Tom, with them all,

Not one of whom he made the sole gal fixture

In his life, just one part of the Mixture.

Ever faithful to the family name,

Tom Mixed up every one of them the same.

His memory was such a great Mixmaster

He assured himself of gal disaster:

Got them all Mixed up inside his head,

Then had to break his silence—and was dead:

"Are you the gal I met afore—or after—

All my other gals?" You think to _laughter_?

Tom learned hard: Stay silent! (for encores

He sigh leant) and **Avoid Mixed met-afores**.

"Well I can thank my Irish lucky fallin' stars in my eyes that I learned my lesson of two evils: that silents is the wise gold that fears to glitter where fools are a Russian inn," Tom sighed, his feelings a mixture of God's bad little green apples and oranges that are always spoiling for the mountain of trouble that comes in bunches. "It's a big relief pitcher that's worth a thousand points of light to a blind horse you lead to water that seeks its own level to know that a mixed shoppin' bag of met-afores is the reaped whirlpool of quicksand you should avoid—and that's really sayin' somethin' is somethin' else in my boots! I'm sure glad rags to handbags I learned that one just in the nick of a dime store cowboy. They're the fly that's sow much in the wild oats of anointment these salad days. That's been my sea change of problems all along a winding road that never ends: I've been mixin' up my metaphors with my met-afores and my met-afters for as long and the short of a ten-foot pole as I can remember the Alamo. And the upshot to the jaw was as soon as I opened my big mouth of the lion I'd stuck my head of let-off steam into and threw some gal names at the wailing wall I was up against to see if any would be the bundle that sticks by me you can't break, gals to the right and left out in the cold of me took to flying off the depend of the handle at the namedropping of a hat, and I found myself up the creek without a dollar short of the whole nine yards. When the smoke cleared a path to the nearest exit, I could hear the handwringing on the wall and smell trouble in the eyeteeth of the beholder. _'Shut up!'_ I explained, but I only rubbed in salt to the injury of the open unshut case of the wound, but I did see some light'nin' strikes at day's end of the tunnel dispite bein' so Mix-understood: my fifteen-gal-in hat was struck by the lightenin' of no lesson fifteen gals."
**  
**

**Don't wear a windy manner**

****

** **

****

**_Heathcliff and Catherine_** _reach the one-mile boundary encircling Wuthering Heights._

"Well, Catherine, old chum, here we are again upon our beloved moors, wearing an air of breeziness and a-chatting up a storm, a-keeping its windswept atmosphere stirred up so it's not resting on its laurels—or its _heathers_ either, heh, heh." "You're spot on again, Breathcliff, my adopted breather and colloquy companion—and in our same old windy spot—and a _patronizing_ air it is too; but then you always were so much better at that than I, though I'm not exactly a slouch at the old blowing-smoke game, am I, old chap? . . ."
**  
**

285. Their Windy Manner Wore a Windy Manor

An orphan child, adopted, Heathcliff came

To live at Wuthering Heights with her whose name

Was Catherine, she to the Manor born.

Both young at heart, the two were soon forsworn

The best of friends, true soul mates and heart-lights

Who, bright, each morn set out from Wuthering Heights,

From whence these bosom chatty immatures

Roamed far and wide the no less windswept moors,

Whereon, for all their two young hearts were warm,

The windy twosome chatted up a storm.

Upon the moors this had no very bad

Effect, but bringing it back home it had

A weathering, a _withering_ effect

On Wuthering Heights olde Manor. To protect

It Mr. Earnshaw then forbade the two

"From chatting up, as you're so wont to do,

A storm, whose _windiness_ does fast erode

My dear ancestral, much windswept abode.

Ai! _children's tongues_ —who says they, each a fanner

Of the breeze, **Don't wear a windy Manor**?"

"Well, Catherine, old chum, here we are again upon our beloved moors, wearing an air of breeziness and a-chatting up a storm, a-keeping its windswept atmosphere stirred up so it's not resting on its laurels—or its _heathers_ either, heh, heh—and we wouldn't want _that_ my dear and Chatty Cathy, now would we, my bosom pal and breeze-shooter? But then you're so awfully good at it, my dear, and, as you know, I'm not so terribly bad at the gab myself, though nowhere near in your class, I think we need fear no such unaccustomed atmospheric stillness, need we, my loquacious one?" "No, you're spot on again, as usual, Breathcliff, my adopted breather and colloquy companion—and a very _patronizing_ air it is at that; but then you always were so much better at that than I, though I'm not exactly a slouch at the old blowing-smoke game, am I, old chap? Also, while our incessant drafty palaver takes many turns, I'm really awfully good, don't you think? at always bringing the conversation back to myself, though, blow me down, I'm about as far as a dog from scruples from being in your league there, my palsy old blowhard." "Oh but, Cath, I'm not but knee high to you when it comes to blowing slang out gratuitously, _inappropriately_ in a vain attempt to show you're with i—" "Stuff 'n' nonsense, me hearty! Who's more full of it than you come to gall-force gusts of whatever pops into your weather _vain_ as if such tasteless, humorless, _boring_ puffery were the _stuffing_ of genius—oh but, Breathcliff, my dear old winderlocutor, with whom I so love to lock horns, tee hee hee, here we are once more nearing the one-mile boundary encircling olde weathering, withering, Wuthering Heights, beyond which daddy has expressly forbidden us to wear a windy Manor. Let us now suppress our breezy natures. Until the morrow, my old gasbag." "Later, windmill."

**Tell readers what you're going to tell them; tell them; then tell them what you've told them**

****

** **

****

**_William Tell_** _'s first shot missed the apple by a wide mark. He now takes dead aim . . ._

"Having shot down your assumptions, I aim to tell you what I'm going to tell you: It was November 18, 1307, Altdorf, Switzerland. Hermann Gessler had erected in the village square a pole, on top of which he had placed one of his hats, demanding that passers-by bow down to it. A proud Swiss, I sauntered by without bowing and was arrested. Since I was known to be a dead shot with the cross _bow_ , Gessler thought it fitting to command me to shoot an apple off my son's head at fifty paces, or suffer ourselves to be executed. . . ." 
**  
**

286. Tell What You'll Tell, Tell, Then Tell What You've Told Them

"I'll—I'll tell you all," sobbed William Tell,

"The story, just as the events befell;

Of how I shot the apple off the head,

Or _tried_ , of my dear son—now Hermann's . . . _dead_.

So help me, God, I _missed_ the apple's core

[He breaks down], but did not miss life—or more

Than _death._ I was so frightened—who would not

Be, forced to take a life—or (God!)—death shot

At one's own (sob!)—he, Gessler, was the one

Who made me take that shot, and hit my— _son!_ "

"Dear William, we're so very very sorry

For your son, it's _such_ a sad sad story.

You must miss your son so terribly."

"What, _Walter_? Walter's _fine_ ; son's eating the

Sweet apple right now that was on his head

—It's Hermann, Hermann _Gessler_ , __ who is dead.

I _told_ you I did not miss. No, to spell them,

You **Tell readers what you're going to tell them;**

**Tell them; and then tell them what you've told them**."

[William Tell, he, sure knew how to hold them.]

"And now that I've shot down the conclusions you leapt to," William Tell told on, "I mean to take aim at telling you what I'm going to tell you, namely how things unfolded as they did: It was November 18, 1307, and I was in Altdorf, Switzerland, my village. At that time our northerly neighbor, Austria, under influence of the Habsburg emperors, was seeking to dominate us Swiss. Hermann Gessler, the Austrian official appointed to spy on and lord it over us, had erected in the village square a pole, on top of which he had placed one of his hats, demanding that passers-by bow down to it. A proud Swiss, I sauntered by without bowing and was arrested. Since I was known to be a dead shot with the cross _bow_ , Gessler thought it justly fitting, as my punishment, to command me to shoot an apple off my son's head at fifty paces, or suffer myself, and my son, to be executed. If successful, we would be spared. Gessler appointed the time and place. The following morning at 8:47:29 A.M. (we Swiss are as accurate in our timepieces), my son was stood before Gessler's Pole with an apple on his head. Gessler was seated on an ornate, high-backed throne off to one side. I was commanded to march off fifty paces and fire at will, even though my son's name is Walter. I cocked the bow, loaded an arrow, and took dead aim. Just at the moment the crowd went deathly silent, I wheeled to my right, shot, and pinned fat Gessler's cocked hat to the throne. Before he could get the shocked look off his face, I cocked, loaded, and shot anew. I didn't miss the apple (a 'Northern Spy') this time. Thereupon the Austrian guard promptly picked up one-eyed Gessler, apple of his mother's eye, and the throne he was so stuck on, and evermore left us in peace. Moral? Tell them what you're going to tell them; tell them; then tell them what you've told them. _That_ 's the way to Tell a story."
**  
**

**Be consistent in the use of style and tone**

****

** **

****

**_Tina Turner_** _is having a typical BIG-hair day, and she lets concert-goers have it, right between the eyes._

"Tina, we _love_ your BIG hair, it's _Simply the Best_ , __ but if you don't maintain a consistent classic-Tina style (sassy, brassy, larger than life); __ if you always mess with the tone (now it's lighthearted, now morbidly dark, now media _ochre_ ) so we never know from one 'do' to the next if it's really you beneath it, it's certain to end up, for us, a _Ball of Confusion_. Also, while _We Don't Need Another Hero_ , just the same BIG-haired Tina, if you keep changing BIG hairstyles on us, well, there's always Diana, Aretha, Whitney . . ."
**  
**

287. Consistent in Her Big-hair Style and Tone

Part Navajo, part Cherokee, part black,

The one thing Tina Turner didn't lack,

Besides her voice, her legs (a long bronze pair),

Was (wow!) her really _really_ big BIG hair

—And always changing: layered, swept back, teased,

Curled, backcombed, waved, or moussed—whatever pleased

La Tina—afroed, candy-flossed, or streaked

With highlights toned, yet always, always _peaked_ ;

It might be sculpted, tinted, curled, or spiked

With hair gel, scrunched—whatever Tina liked,

Which meant that whether feathered, dyed, or bleached,

It suited her hirsuteness that it reached

For one thing: outward-, _up_ ward-swirling (all whom

Tina flounced it for agreed) hair _volume_.

Stunning!—wait, BIG news! It nearly wrecked her

Hair Career—her fans all henna-pecked her

When she flashed a '60s beehive hairdo

( _Different!_ style and tone of henna, hair goo).

She just had to **_Bee_** , so BIG-hair prone,

**Consistent in the use of style and tone**.

****

Wanting to relax, Tina momentarily let her hair down, letting her fans, who had this bee in their bonnets, down BIGtime. "B-B-But Tina, they sang out _D-_ flatedly, "a diva famed for BIG hair should _always_ have BIG hair—as long as it's not a retro beehive! _The_ _Chicago Manual of Hairstyle: Hairdos and Hairdon'ts_ is clear on this." "Look," the Acid Queen said, reaching way, way up to touch her hair to reassure herself it was BIG again, "bee stands for body, right? Well, a _killer_ body's style is to flaunt it by propping up some big BIG hair." "B-But, Tina, a beehive just goes against—" "Look, I _Break Every Rule_." "Look yourself, Tina. We love you, but you've gotten off the title track agai—" _"What's Love Got to Do With It?"_ "Everything, and we wish you wouldn't sing to us in that style and tone of voice. We love your BIG hair, it's _Simply the Best_ , __ but if you don't maintain a consistent style (sassy, brassy, larger-than-life, how do you like _that_ hair, Ike?) which is classic Tina; __ if you always mess with the tone (now it's lighthearted, now it's morbidly dark, now it's media _ochre_ ) so we never know from one 'do' to the next if it's really you beneath it, well, it's certain to end up, for us, a hopeless _Ball of Confusion_. Also, while _We Don't Need Another Hero_ , just the same BIG-haired Tina we've always loved, if you keep changing BIG hairstyles on us, well, there's always Diana Ross, Aretha Franklin, Whitney Hous—" "Look, _I Don't Want to Lose You—Don't Leave Me This Way!_ You've been with me so long. _Let's Stay Together._ I'll continue to be your _Private Flouncer_ —but my BIG hair has got to have room to grow and develop." "That's tickety-do with us—as long as you're consistent in style and tone—and no more '60s-retro _beehives_!" "Look, _What You Get Is What You See._ " "Sounds good to us, Tin—" "But you'd _Better Be Good to Me._ "
**  
**

**Avoid flat writing**

****

** **

****

_"Grapes of Wrath" author_ ** _John Steinbeck_** _gets a writing lesson from one who knows something about wrath._

_You see what I mean?_ _Tortilla Flat_ _is dead flat. Look at the way the book lies flat upon the table, the pages lie flat against one another, every word lies flat upon the page._ "God, don't _all_ books lie as flat?" _Thunderation, no. The best of them, like a certain Good Book, have depth, while at the same time the words verily leap off the page. Tortilla Flat is flat out unflattering. And all those is's! Be-words are the flattest of the flat; they lie there, like sluggards, and exist, appealing to flat-earthers. You're not one of those, are you?. . ._
**  
**

288. He Told Him Flat Out, _Low. Avoid Flat Writing_

Of all John Steinbeck's novels of the poor,

_Tortilla Flat_ fell flattest, that's for sure,

In sales, in storyline, in critics' eyes,

Which came as something of a write surprise

To him. He'd written of a _Wayward Bus_ ;

And of a strike: _In_ _Battle_ _Dubious_ ;

Of _Cannery Row_ ; and _Of Mice and Men_ ;

_The Winter of Our Discontent_ (amen

To Shakespeare for the metaphor); a _Pearl_ ;

A _Cup of Gold_ ; some _Grapes of Wrath_ ; a girl

Or two; and _Bombs Away: The Story of_

_A Bomber Team_ ; _The Moon is Down_ ; of love;

_Sweet Thursday_ ; and _The Acts of_ [mythic flights

Of old] _King Arthur and His Noble Knights_ ;

And, naturally, as all so writing prone

Do soon or later, _To a God Unknown_.

"O God, I don't know why _Tortilla Flat_

Came off so writing poorly, save it's that

Your novel way, O Lord, of writer smiting,

Teaching me: _Flat out_ ** _Avoid Flat writing_**."

__

"Danny is home from the war," Tortilla Flat opens. "He gets drunk and in trouble, and is put in the local jail. Released, he finds he has inherited two houses in Tortilla Flat, which isn't flat." _Do you see what I mean?_ God says disdainfully, looking down upon the open book. _It's just as flat as flat can be. Just look at the way the book lies flat upon the table, the pages lie flat against one another, and every word lies flat upon the page._ "Don't _all_ books lie as flat." _Thunderation, no. The best of them have depth, while at the same time the words verily leap off the page. Take East of Eden and The Grapes of Wrath. I like the titles. It shows you have at least a working knowledge of my book, which, I hasten to add, many have likened unto a very Good Book. I didn't get to be Lord Almighty by writing a poor one, though I fear the poor shall always be with us, as my only begotten Son would say—but I digress. Nevertheless, since we're on the subject of the poor, let me say a few living words (not a flat word amongst the lot, I'm told) more of Tortilla Flat. It is flat out unflattering is what it is! And, my word, all those is's! Be-words are the flattest of the flat; they just lie there, like sluggards, and exist. They don't do anything. Lo, Tortilla Flat just lies there being dull—and flat—appealing to Flat-earthers—you're not one of those, are you? That would be the last straw after the pains I suffered to make it round (my greatest sphere yet I am daily flattered to believe). _"But, God Almighty, how can I _not_ write flatly of _Tortilla Flat_?" _Lo, give it depth, breathe life into the characters, as I did you; lift them from the page; make them three-dimensional like me, Father/Son/Holy Ghostwriter. Anything along those unflat lines. But for God's sake, no more of Tortilla Flat lest it give me the most ungodly flatulence—and, trust me, that is one wind you do not want to inherit._
_  
_

**Avoid non sequiturs**

****

** **

****

_Detective Sergeant_ ** _Joe Friday_** _is looking to engage a girl Friday for the nonce, and is met with the no-nonce-sense type._

"As sure as night follows day, have I got everything?" "Are you going to be a _non sequitur_ , 'a statement that does not follow logically from what preceded it' on me too, ma'am?" "You can say that again for the first time." "That's illogical, ma'am." "Who never said my kind was logical? Now Calcutta— _there_ 's a vegetable!" "I think you're just the girl Friday I'm looking for. I'd like to engage you—" "Look, you can't engage me— _dick_." "Why's that, ma'am?" __ "Because I'm not the girl Friday you don't think I am, . . ." 
**  
**

**289. He Learned: Avoid Non Sequiturs. Not She**

Detective Sergeant, Vice, Joe Friday, he

Who put the Dragnet out on crime TV

For every sort of criminal whose acts

Of crime obliged Joe to get all the facts

From "ma'am"s all over L.A., to his woe,

Misplaced the facts, and back he'd have to go

And say his clipped catch phrase all over, "Just

The facts ma'am. I'll need them to make a bust."

Joe thought, "Going back for facts is spoiling _my_ day.

I know! I'll engage a girl Friday

"Part-time secretary—for the nonce.

Since just the facts are what each jury wants,

Each Friday I'll have Friday file away

The facts where I can find them, any day."

The job was _hers_. Said he, "Girl Friday, file

These." She: " _It doesn't follow_ that's my style

Of girl; I don't do _that_ girl Friday bit.

This 'nonce' sec work is nonce sense—dick!" She quit

On Friday. _Drag!_ Net? Case of Friday bitters:

" **Don't employ nonce-sec-quit- _her_ s**—they're quitters!"

"As sure as night follows day," ex–girl Friday said, preparing to quit his presence, "have I got everything?" "Are you going to be a _non sequitur_ , 'a statement that does not follow logically from what preceded it' on me too, ma'am?" No. 714 inquired with only a dollar in his wallet. "You can say that again for the first time." "That's illogical, ma'am." "Who never said my kind was logical? I forget when he said it." "Just the facts, ma'am." "Look, I don't _do_ facts, so, okay: the alleged perpetrator, who was guilty until I proved he did it, had flat feet, like I was supposed to find that _unattractive_ or something. Whales are not really fish, they're mammals. 'Hurry,' he groused, 'get out of my predicament! I've got to logically follow those flatfoots up ahead—I'm their leader.' 'Well, if you don't want to linger and cop to caring about me,' I said, 'it's wet in Holland!' " "Which way did he go, ma'am?" "The same way he _always_ never goes when he's looking to cop out of working things out between him and us—Tuesday." "Yes, but which direction, ma'am?" "That's right." "(Sigh) did you get a good look at him?" "Flattery will get you nowhere. Which proved he was trying to cop out on me, without copping to having 30% chlorine-reduced feelings." "Ma'am?" "Now Calcutta— _there_ 's a vegetable!" "I know you said you don't do facts, but I wish you'd reconsider. I think you're just the girl Friday I'm looking for. I'd really like to engage you for facts, ma'am." "No, of course you do! That's not all your flatfooted kind _never_ wants to do. But _Bombay_! Is my pink slip showing? So you _can't_ engage me." "Why's that ma'am?" "Because I'm not the girl Friday you don't think I am, dick—" "Joe." "I'm your wife, _Mrs._ Friday, and deer are fond of aspen leaves." "Just the facts, ma'am." "I don't _do_ facts!" "I'm going to bed, ma'am." "It's too late to apologize!"
**  
**

**Put an end to suffixes**

****

** **

****

_The_ ** _Earl of Suffix_** _has a word for the **-wise** , in fact he has many words for the **-wise** , as like **wise** he does for every one of his many suffixes._

" _Because I have many suffixes in my posses **sion** , it leads to my compul **sion** for utiliz **ation** in the direct **ion** of attach **ment** , an embellish **ment** I have a prefer **ence** for (which meets with no refus **al** on my part), the signifi **cance** of which is that I am in conform **ity** with my penchant towards add **ition**._ Compare: _Because I possess suffixes, I compel myself to utilize and attach them (I prefer to embellish, not refuse), which signifies that I conform to add._ Precisely half the words, ten less suffixes, and ten more very _lively_ verbs . . ."
**  
**

290. He Put an End to Suffixes—with Others

The end was near, and thus the Earl of Suffix

Found himself in one word-ending tough fix

After yet another. "Is there not

An _end_ to all these suffixes I've got?

I've **-tion** , **-sion** , **-ence** , **-ance, -ity** , **-ent** , and **-ment** ,

But, Lord, how suffix-have-nots **_-al_** resent

My changing buried verbs all into nouns.

And if I use **-ness** —oh! what aren't the frowns

For making nouns of adjectives, or **-ize**

For changing nouns to verbs—what _aren't_ the cries

"Each **-ly** that changes participle to

An adverb—how the suffix-have-nots _'Boo!'_

If **-ingly** I should change verb into ad-

verb—have-nots deem this quite as suffix bad.

Hmmm, maybe I should just renounce my title,

Say the suffix **less** word that's more vital:

Earl of Suffix **less** —yes, end the glut

Of suffixes I end with. I _could_ , but . . .

_Nah-h-h!_ in the end I can't (all bluff-fixes)

Bear to **Put an end to 'Suffix says**.'

"Don't get me wrong **ly** ," Suffix hasti **ly** add **ed**. "I wasn't advocat **ing** putt **ing** an end to suffixes; after all, suffixes are the end. The very liv **ing** end, I should say. They're in my blood—blood **iness** , I should say. I was toy **ing** , theor **etically** , with putt **ing** an end to them, just as **-tion** , **-sion** , **-ence** , **-ance** , **-ity** , **-ent** , **-ment** , and **-al** so bold **ly** put an end to buried verbs. Allow me an explan **ation** : _Because I have many suffixes in my posses **sion** , it leads to my compul **sion** for utiliz **ation** in the direct **ion** of attach **ment** , an embellish **ment** I have a prefer **ence** for (which meets with no refus **al** on my part), the signifi **cance** of which is that I am in conform **ity** with my penchant towards add **ition**_. This exemplary example of suffix **ation** (closely related to asphyxiat **ion** ) necessit **ated** my using fifty words, many long, form **ing** eleven life **less** abstract **ions**. But had I thus econom **ized** , _Because I possess suffixes, I compel myself to utilize and attach them (I prefer to embellish, not refuse), which signifies that I conform to add,_ I would have used a mere twenty-five short words, and disinterred ten tragic **ally** buried—and now very live **ly** —verbs, complete **ly** curing my chronic abstract **itis** and life **long** black noun plague. But, lucki **ly** , I'm still plagued, and go right on puff **ing** up my rhetoric by us **ing** **-ness** to turn adjectives into nouns (bloated **ness** , **** tumid **ness** , swellheaded **ness** ); **-ize** to turn adjectives into verbs (bombastic **ize** , ****_apolog **ize**?_ ****_econom **ize**?_); **-ly** to turn participles into adverbs (fixed **ly** , **** connected **ly** , **** pigheaded **ly** ); and of course **-ingly** to turn verbs into adverbs (inflat **ingly** , **** bulg **ingly** , **** turgidify **ingly** ). But do allow me to indulge in some interrogat **ion** by way of query **ing** : in all honesti **ness** , how could anyone, much less I, the Earl of Suffix **ation** , engage in the concept **ualizification** , howsoever hypoth **eticalistical** , **** of putt **ing** such a tragic **acious** end **ationment** to suffixes?"

**Don't bore readers with boring lists**

****

** **

****

_Laying aside his scalpel, Father of Modern Surgery_ ** _Joseph Lister_** _cures Louis Pasteur of intractable insomnia with a single dose of Listerene._

"Well there's your problem right there, Joseph," Louis said on being awakened. "What's that Louis, microbiologist, chemist, Father of Pasteurizatio—" "Your narcotizing, sleep-inducing—I'll stop there—habit of _listing_ a litany of things as if you were rattling them off a clipboard or thesaurus." "What's wrong, erroneous, incorrect, mistaken, off-base, out-of-li—" " _Sacre bleu!_ Lister. You've patented Listerene as an antiseptic, when you should be marketing it as a _narcotic_ , __ sedative, sleep aid, Mickey Finn, knockou . . . z-z-z-z-z-z-z . . ."
**  
**

291. "Look, Lister," Pasteur Said, "Don't Be . . . a . . . Liste . . . Z-Z-Z-Z-Z"

In British surgeon Joseph Lister's youth,

He came to the possession of a truth:

"Post-operative sepsis, which, each day

(The horror!), carries fully _half_ away,

Is not caused by _miasma_ in the air,

But, rather, tiny organisms there

That cause decomposition of the flesh

For simple lack of keeping the same fresh

By means of antiseptic 'Listerene'

—Which _kills_ the buggers, keeps the proud flesh clean,

"Bug free, the bugs that cause diphtheria

—But let me list _all_ the bacteria

That Listerene kills . . . ," and he so began:

_"Bacillus subtillus . . . ,"_ and on he ran

Through _"staphylococcus aureus . . . ,"_ and on

Through _"klebsiella oxytoca . . ."_ (yawn),

Through _"vibrio cholera . . . ,"_ but (oh, _weep!_ )

It couldn't save the ill—infectious sleep.

He learned, to spread it round, a list-persister

Of bacteria: **Don't be a Lister**.

__

Put out to Pasteur as a result, Lister began listing to report: "Louis, I repine, curse my folly, bite my tongue, rue the day, regret my actions, kick myself, flagellate myself, wear a hair shirt, hide my face in shame, search my soul, cry over spilled milk, wring my poor hands, tear my hair, gnash my teeth, beat my breast, sing the blues, keen, mourn, grieve, weep, wail, sob, blubber, whimper, burst into tears, groan, grumble, fret, beef, find fault, kvetch, bellyache, crab, gripe, grouch, make a stink, kick up a storm, lament, bemoan, and bewail myself over the widespread, universal, broad-scale, sweeping, universal, far-flung, global, planet-wide pandemic of narcolepsy, and do so protractedly, extensively, unendingl—" "Well there's your whole problem right there, Joseph," Louis said on being awakened. "What's that Louis, microbiologist, chemist, Father of Pasteurization, French-man—" "Why, your narcotizing, sleep-inducing—I'll stop right there—habit of _listing_ a litany of things as if you were rattling them off a clipboard, if not a thesaurus." "What's wrong, erroneous, incorrect, mistaken, off-base, out-of-line, hardly the thing to do abo—" " _Sacre bleu!_ Lister, you're missing the point, the solution, the boat—confound you!—to America. You've patented Listerene as an antiseptic, when you should be marketing it as a _narcotic_ , __ sedative, sleep aid, Mickey Finn, knockout drop—all of which, as you can plainly see, are hopelessly habit-forming, annoying, _bor-r-r-r-r-ring._ Oh, _one_ final thing. You're going to have to put this disclaimer on the bottle: _Caution/Warning/Admonition/ Advisory/Caveat/Enough Said (just kidding!)/Word to the Wise/Wake-up Call/Portent/ Omen/Red Flag/Alarm/Mayday:_ **_Listerene is NOT an antiseptic. And be forewarned: it's the polar opposite of an antisleeptic. What Listerene  is . . . is-s-s-s . . . z-z-z-z . . _**."

**Don't tell—show**

****

** **

****

_The original chauvinist,_ ** _Nicolas Chauvin_** _is ushered before Napoleon to whom he shows such zealous, undying devotion. The Emperor feels deeply for Chauvin's condition, and is greatly relieved not to find it._

"Chauvin, don't _tell_ me you've been shot— _show_ me how the searing-hot musket ball, traveling at sickening speed, smashed into your flesh, burning, ripping, rupturing veins, arteries, vital organs, shattering bone, obliterating nerves, their ragged, electrified ends frantically sending back excruciating wave upon wave of pleading _Au Secours!_ s to the disbelieving brain, driving the life-shattering shock waves ahead of it before exploding out in a volcanic spray of gore, the massive exit wound oozing human magma. . . ."
**  
**

292. Napoleon: "Chauvin, Don't Tell Me— _Show_ Me!"

Young Nicolas Chauvin was loyal to

A fault, and there was nothing he'd not do

To show how _much_ undying loyalty

He had for God, Napoleon, so he

Enlisted in _La Grande Armée_ and fought

His bloody battles for him, and was shot

Through, slashed with saber, trampled woefully

Neath mangling hooves, crushed by artillery,

And maimed as pounds of flesh, bone (it appalls!),

Were, piecemeal, lost to amputating balls

Of cannon. "God! _now_ surely he will see

My loyalty unto the third degree,

My suffering, my sacrifice that turns

The stomach—horrid scars of searing burns

From head to toe." In this disfigurement

He, brought before Napoleon, is _bent_

On telling him, in graphic detail, the

Extent of his male chauvinism. He,

Napoleon: " _Chauvin_ , for all you owe me

Loyalty in flesh, **Don't tell me—Chau me**!"

Now Chauvin was really burned. " _Regarde,_ " Napoleon said as if to take the sting out of his words. "No doubt you've heard the homily, though it doesn't come close to being as homely as you, _A Picture is worth a thousand words._ Well, it's no different with a self-portrait of chauvinism. Rather than _tell_ me you've been shot, slashed, trampled, mangled, crushed, burned, disfigured, bent out of shape— _show_ me. Show me how the searing-hot musket ball, traveling at sickening speed, smashed into your flesh, leaving a neat, round, blackened entry wound, burning, tearing, ripping through flesh, rupturing veins, arteries, vital organs, shattering bone, obliterating nerves, their ragged, electrified ends frantically sending back excruciating wave upon wave of pleading _Au Secours!_ s to the disbelieving brain, driving the life-shattering shock waves ahead of it before exploding out, carrying all before it, in a volcanic spray of gore, the massive exit wound oozing human magma. _Show_ me, not only through the nauseous sense of sight; make me _feel_ what it was like to be knocked to the blood-soaked battlefield with the sickening impact of a limb-severing cannonball; _hear_ the cacophonous thunder of thousands of steel-shoed hooves that bore down on you, the sound of flesh and bone being pulverized; _smell_ the acrid, biting smell of sweat commingled with fear; _taste_ the salt in the blo— _zut alors!_ I almost forgot. We're marching on Moscow in the dead of the most frostbiting, godforsaken winter on record within the hour, in light tropical uniform (no boots)—an entire 6 oz. package of trail mix between the 691,500 of you (I didn't get to be Emperor without knowing that an army, _La_ _Grande Armée_ , marches on its stomach)—you up for it? _That_ 's the loyal spirit, Chauvin! I'll keep you abreast, what gangrenous and maggot-ridden little is left of it, of Waterloo."
**  
**

**Replace be verbs with action verbs**

****

** **

**_Tricky Dick Nixon_** _actively schemes to avoid impeachment as Bebe Rebozo exists into the Oral Office._

"The question is: Am I going to use Bebe's Capitol Be, or am I going to use his small be? You're _damned right_ I am, Am/am being 'First Person' singular of Bebe. I actively **depend** on Bebe, the Rebozo, for my existence. [Bebe exists into the Oral Office] Oh, Bebe, glad you're here. Get an earful of the oral **active** -verb action I took regarding the 'Nixon tapes': I **put the nix on** turning them over. I **argued** executive privilege; I **cried** national security; I **replaced** Cox, just like I **supplant** be-verbs with action verbs . . ."
**  
**

293. He _Acted_ While His Bebe Pal Existed

"Pal Bebe just exists," schemed Tricky Dick,

"To be my pal so I, real politic,

Can call on this Rebozo when I need

A be-verb of the just-existing breed.

Yes, what becomes his Be-bedizened face

Is Bebe's upper _and_ he's lower case.

Just what I need for my sworn testament

Of 'Be it known that I be __ innocent'

Before the Watergate Committee—these

It pleases me to call _'B––––s!' 'Sons of b––––s!'_

"Say, Bebe, best Be-verb pal that could be,

I need some 'b' words for each enemy

Upon my list." "Hey, sorry, Tricky Dick,

None of my Bebe-verbs will do the trick

That you can swear by—but old B. b. King

Has got B- and b-words for everything."

"Man, Trick, I need all my 'B/b's for the _blues_

Because I get no _action_ when I use

The 'B/b' words," B. b. sighed. "Could I, I would

**Replace B/b-verbs with _action_ verbs**. _You_ should."

"To Bebe, or not to Bebe? That is not the question," Tricky mumbled, pacing back and forth in the Oral Office. The question is: Am I going to use Bebe's Capitol Be, or am I going to use his small be? _Damned right_ I am going to Bebe, as I just did, Am/am being 'First Person' singular of Bebe. Hell, I actively **depend** on Bebe for my very Tricky Dick existence. [Bebe exists into the Oral Office] Hey, Bebe, get an earful of all the oral **active** -verb action I took lately: Special prosecutor Archibald Cox requested Judge John Sirica to subpoena nine of the voice-activated 'Nixon Tapes' on the Watergate break-in. I **put the nix on** that. I **refused**. I **argued** executive privilege, national security. I **replaced** Cox, just like I replace be-verbs with action verbs, and **appointed** Leon Jaworski Special Counsel. **** Then I **erased** 18 minutes 20 seconds of one of the Nixon tapes, a conversation between me and Chief of Staff H. R. Haldeman, where my big mouth **implicated** me in the break-in. Asked to explain the erasure, I **lied** through my teeth, **covered up** , **stonewalled** , even **launched** my own investigation (snicker) into the erasure, then **handed over** the edited tapes. The Judiciary Committee didn't buy it. Jaworski, the rat, asked Sirica to subpoena me for _sixty-four_ tapes. I **refused**. Jaworski appealed to the Supreme Court. And _all_ _nine_ ordered me to hand over the tapes. So like a damned fool I **complied** (how bad could it be ending in **lied**?), including the 'Smoking Gun' Tape where I orally **entered into** a criminal conspiracy to __ obstruct justice when I **nixed** FBI-head Patrick Gray's Watergate break-in investigation. Now they plan to impeach me. But they _can't_ impeach me, Bebe. I **resign**. ****_B––––s! sons of b––––s!_ You satisfied with _that_ action? Come on, Bebe, let's you and I **exit** —all right, I'll actively **exit** , **** and **** you existentially nonexist—the hell on out of here."

**Arrange ideas in order of their importance to secure climax**

****

** **

****

**_Mad Max_** _, Down Under, suffers, endures, tolerates, accepts a further putdown._

Cursing the scorching Aussie sun, Mad Max does a slow burn: "Jesus Christ. In the near future, everyone will be world famous, country famous, province famous, and city famous for fifteen minutes—and be absolutely livid, quite ticked off, a trifle peeve—" _Enough. I get the anticlimax, Anti-clime Max._ _Whoso would mount unto Heaven must put his ideas in ascending order, in order to secure climb_, _Max. Mad talk like that will get you into the Anticlime, Max, quicker than greased lightning, swifter than Cupid's dart . . . _
**  
**

294. His Madness Guaranteed Him Anticlimax

_"Revenge!_ **_Revenge!_** _"_ was all Mad Max could holler

. . . Then. Now, boiling hot beneath the collar,

He was really mad, Max—and no wonder:

"This Austrileyan clime's got me Down Under.

Here am I, in boiling hot December,

Running round—why couldn't I remember

This is summer in the Land of Oz,

And summer is the Aussie desert cause

Of madness?— _Christ!_ I must get out, secure

A clime less hellish, boiling, that's for sure!

"Christ, curse this damned Down Underest of climes!

It's _killing_ me—I've died a thousand times

If I've died once (from heat stroke), and, what's more,

This itching, peeling sunburn's got me _sore_ ,

A little, and the sweat of underarms

Has stained and brought my old, cheap shirt to _harms_!"

Christ: _You'll **NO** T get a change of clime—for sin!—_

_That you did not **Arrange ideas in**_

**_The order_** __ [oh the heat of Christ's sin tax!]

**_Of their importance to secure clime, Max_** _._

Now Mad Max was _really_ steamed. "In the near future beyond this one, everyone will be world famous, country famous, province famous, and city famous for fifteen minutes—and be absolutely livid, quite ticked off, a trifle peeve—" _Enough. I get the anticlimax, Anti-clime Max_ , Jesus hotly sermoned from the mount (a not so high and mighty lowly ass). _Wherefore I say unto you that whosoever would mount unto Heaven must start by putting his ideas in ascending order—in order to secure climb_, _Max._ "I _put_ mine in one of those once, and, Lord Jesus! I'll be go to hell if, alongside my '73 Ford Falcon XB sporting a supercharged Cleveland V8, it wasn't slower than a snail on Quaaludes, Arctic molasses in spring thaw, a tortoise in a big hurry, an Australian rabbit on its way to mate—" _Hark unto me, O ye of even slower wit. Mad talk like that will get you into the Anticlime, Max, quicker than greased lightning, swifter than Cupid's dart, and faster than you can say Rat ran over the rooftop with a piece of raw liver in his—may the Eternal Thunderdome that is Heaven fall upon your accurst anticlimactic head, Mad Max—you've got me doing it now! Just wait till I tell Father. You'll be starting your downward climb so quickly th—no, I'm not about to fall into that old anticlimactic trap again— _"Jesus Christ, just how old _is_ that old trap?" _How old is it? Let me tell you how old it is: it's ten times older than Methuselah, more ancient than modern-day Israel, more aged than your cheapest of wine coolers, the oldest of which are still grap—_[an almighty thunder rends the Thunderdome] _JESUS CHRIST!_ [it's God] _How many times must I tell you he can't be saved. He's mad_, _loopy. It's the scorching Aussie sun. It toucheth a man in the head._ Jesus: _O Father, how mad can Mad Max be?_ God: _How mad can he be? Let me tell Jesus Christ, J. C., you . . ._
**  
**

**Take care that your train of thought is not derailed**

****

** **

****

_Newly married_ ** _Rudolph Diesel_** _has a one-track mind: the love of his life._

"Martha, working on a new design for my Diesel engine, which, as I explained in detail on our wedding night, does not rely on a spark from a spark plug to ignite the fuel, which is oilier and requires less refining than gasoline, thus is cheaper." [she waits expectantly] "Is that _it_?" "Yes, why?" "Because you've taken in too many Diesel fumes _again_ today, causing you to get off on a parenthetical sidetrack, derailing your train of thought, leaving me standing at the station expectantly." "We're _expecting_?" " _No_ , you dummkopf . . ."
**  
**

295. His Train of Thought Got Off the Rails (His Wife's)

Herr Rudolph Diesel had an engine thought:

Compress the fuel more; it will then burn hot,

Resulting in (he burned to make all see

The breakthrough) greater fuel efficiency.

The "Diesel engine" thus became his pride

And joy; accordingly, it occupied

Both hemispheres of his inventive mind.

"So _,_ for the benefit of all mankind,

I'll build it—put it in a locomotive."

Germans laughed: "Herr Diesel's _loco_ motive?

"Ha, it's rich: to pull—oh yes, I _see_ —

His train of thought into . . . _insanity_!"

Herr Rudolph railed against their utter blindness

To his Diesel engine thought-of-mindness:

"Fools! I'll show you!" Diesel trained his thought

Upon a "Diesel Locomotive" not

Long in the making. Seeing was believing.

Diesel showed them, for his thought-conceiving,

Railing, " **Take care that your train of thought**

**Is not de-railed** ," that his was burning hot.

If only it had been so for his other train of thought. One day he said to newly wedded _frau_ Martha, "Working on a new design for my Diesel engine, which, as I explained in detail on our wedding night, does not rely on a spark from a spark plug to ignite the fuel, which is oilier and requires less refining than gasoline, thus is cheaper." [she waits expectantly] "Is that _it_?" "Yes, why?" "Because you've taken in too many Diesel fumes _again_ today, causing you to get off on a parenthetical sidetrack, derailing your train of thought, leaving me standing at the station expectantly." "We're _expecting_?" " _No_ , you dummkopf— _I_ 'm expecting; expecting you to finish your derailed train of thought. I think you meant to say, 'Working on a new design for my Diesel engine . . . and is cheaper, _I had a brilliant idea_ or—" "So I did. Well, as I was saying, the Diesel engine, being a great improvement over the gasoline engine, as I'm sure you remember from all the many detailed drawings I made for you throughout our wedding night in the beautiful romantic Black Forest—is dinner ready yet?" "You are a perfect foo—" "Oh, I don't think I'm quite perf—" Gott im Himmel! I've never known anyone who can let his _one-track-mind_ train of thought be so derailed at the drop of a romance—" "Dear, the thing I most love about you is—wait, I don't think I drew you the cutaway view of—" " _Here_ , let me finish it for you: _' . . . the Diesel engine that has had the spark taken right out of it._ Well here's another invention you can take out a patent on: the high- _fool_ -efficiency internal combustion _marriage_ that has had every trace of the spark taken the hell out of it, and in which the pressure alone is sufficient to ignite the fuel—causing her to _explo—_ " "Wait. _A high-compression wife; no spark; pressure; fuel_ —you've just given me a killer idea, dear. Here, let me draw it . . ."
**  
**

**Avoid the empty-adverb plague**

****

** **

****

_Alice is full of wonder: what is_ ** _Empty Dumpty_** _doing; more important, why?_

"You awfully wonderful girl! _Now_ look what you've basically made me do,. It's purely, fundamentally, unfortunate. Pretty much completely all the king's horses, comparatively literally all the king's men couldn't actually put my empty adverbs more or less relatively together again, essentially." "I should think that a great advantage." "That only shows how utterly, completely _little_ quite small girls know about really empty adverbs. How else should I clearly intensify the verbs they all too certainly, undeniably modify? . . ."
**  
**

296. A Void His Empty-Adverb Carryall

Bored, Empty Dumpty sat upon a wall

And opened up his sentence carryall,

Which, though it, a designer bag, was not,

Was much a bag designed to pack a _lot_.

Just when he had his carryall in hand,

Along came Alice, she of Wonderland.

"I wonder what you're doing," Alice said

To Empty Dumpty's egg-shaped talking head.

"Well now, I'm dumping Empty adverbs in it,

Aren't I? since I've truly an in _fin_ ite,

"Absolutely endless—quite—supply

Of really empty adverbs—most—don't I?"

"I wonder why you're doing that." "It's very

Much and awfully most vocabulary

Wondering, yours, of my dumping jag.

You want to try?" "No thanks, it's not _my_ bag.

Besides, I fear your ovoid form might fall,

Your dumping practice is so off the wall;

More, fear _I_ 'd be an egghead full of vague

Words. I'll **Avoid the Empty-adverb plague**."

_"Hmmmph!"_ Empty Dumpty snorted with an indignant toss of his egghead. And since he was _all_ egghead—from egghead to eggtoe—he tossed himself right off the wall. Luckily, being fairly hard-boiled, he remained in one piece. But _woe!_ His poor carryall was not so fortunate, smashing into a subject, predicate, and a gazillion empty adverbs. " _Now_ look what you've basically made me do," he said. "It's fundamentally, and I might add purely, unfortunate. Pretty much completely all the king's horses and comparatively literally all the king's men couldn't actually put my empty adverbs more or less relatively together again, essentially." "I should think that a great advantage," Alice said. "Well that only goes to show how utterly, completely _little_ you know about really empty adverbs. How else should I certainly intensify the verbs they only too undeniably modify?" "I find they only make my ears more tense for all the extra hearing they have to do. And they clutter up my head so." " _Egg_ xactly! That's just precisely what we empty-adverbial eggheads were somewhat bred to do, in the eggstreme. It's how, hopefully, we invariably earn our bread and butter primarily. We're really very terribly good at it, don't you think?" "I _can't_ think, with so many empty adverbs 'ly'ing around my head sucking the life out of my verbs, but that your carryall looks like a _dump_." "That's because your pet peeve is quite an egg-sucking dog." "My nannie says _less is more_." "Is _Robert Browning_ in reality your nannie? Well, I'm not mightily surprised. He's merely simply a poet, isn't he? What ever would he know about perfectly achieving intensity with, ironically, fewer—not _less_ —words." "You are _indeed_ an egghead, aren't you, Empty Dumpty?" "I absolutely knew you'd clearly see things totally utterly my way. But really, you're too too awfully terribly kind, essentially."
**  
**

**Take care to proofread each sentence**

****

** **

****

**_Judge William Young_** _sentences Shoe Bomber Richard Reid who swears,_

"I admit, I admit my actions and I further, I further state that I done them." " _There_ , what more proof do we need that you're guilty? If you had proofread your sentence you'd have seen you had two 'I admit's and two 'I further's in a row. More, you used past participle 'done' for simple past tense 'did'! On top of that, you tried to blow up innocent people." "With regards to what you said about killing innoc—" " _Terrorist!_ If you'd proofread that sentence you'd have seen you used 'regards' (good wishes) for 'regard' (respect). . . ."
**  
**

297. He Took the Time to Proofread Every Sentence

Court, Boston. Fed-up Fed Judge William Young:

"A pity I can't have you hanged, not _hung_ ,

'Shoe Bomber' Richard Reid—but listen, you

[He read his written judgment], here's the shoe

With the explosives in it that you tried

To blow up; here's the wick of _homicide_

You tried to light—but failed—you bungler you!

And here's your 'Guilty' plea before me too.

It's all the proof I need, on all counts, one

Through eight—by God, I _will_ see justice done!

"On counts two, three, four, seven—twenty years

_Each_ —and on count eight, not your worst of fears,

Here's terror for you— _thirty more_ ; that makes

_One hundred ten years_ for your five 'mistakes.'

On counts one, five, six . . . _hush!_ you blow-up flop;

I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop

—And here it is, Reid, you Jihadi goof:

On each count (I've just read you all the proof

The law requires **In writing** —here comes strife—

**Be careful to proof Reid each sentence**)— _LIFE!_

"I wish to God I could give you the whole shoebang, Reid— _death_ —but I can't. So I'll just have to settle for a bang of my gavel. But before I do, do you have anything you wish to say to the court?" "Yes, I admit, I admit my actions and I further, I further state that I done them." " _There_ , what more proof does anyone need that you're as guilty as sin? You flagrantly violated the law—and in the most _criminal_ way—by not carefully proofreading your sentence. If you had, you'd have seen that you were two redundant by have: having two 'I admit's and another two 'I further's in a row. Also, you used the past participle 'done' when you should have used the simple past tense 'did'—simpleton! And on top of that, you tried to blow up innocent people." "With regards to what you said about killing innocent people, I will say—" "There you go again! If you'd only proofread that sentence you'd have seen that you used 'regards' (good wishes) instead of 'regard' (respect)." "I admit I tried to blow up a couple of hundred people, but your government has killed two million children in Iraq. I don't see no comparison." "By god, you're a _habitual_ criminal. Proofreading would have caught that double negative 'no' in place of 'any.' " "I am at war with your country. I'm at war with them." "Damn you! Is there _no_ atrocity you won't stoop to? 'Country' is singular, 'them' is _plural_. That merits _another_ life sentence." "As far as the sentence is concerned, it's in your hand. Only really it is not even in your hand. It's in Allah's hand." "God help us all, you really _are_ a terrorist! A cursory proofreading would have shown you that the correct idiom—you _idiot_ —is 'hands,' whether mine or Allah's. Court Bailiff, take him away to serve out all four life sentences—in the Islammer. Why should I give Reid a _death_ sentence? He can damned well make those up himself."

**Draw on the experience of others for material**

****

** **

****

**_Dr. Phil McGraw_** _draws out Oprah Winfrey's experiences for material._

"Bad experiences? I was born to poor, unmarried teenagers; was raped by my cousin, uncle, and a family friend; became a mother at fourteen (boy, died in infancy); I used drugs; my hair fell out; I ballooned up to 238 lb. Now I'm suffering from _mad cowboy_ disease." "This relationship needs a hero." "You really think you can psych them out?" "It ain't about you! I'm gonna put some verbs in my sentences: **Put** me on your show. **Make** me famous. **Keep having** bad experiences I can draw on for material goods. . . ." 
**  
**

298. Her Beef? The Beef of Her Demeaning Beef

"If any psychobabbler can draw

Them, _I_ can, Dr. Phil 'Quick Draw' McGraw.

And talk about my draw ability

(A product of my pop psychology):

I quickly draw emotions out of mixed up

People trusting I'll soon have them fixed up

With a magic pill and many more

(So drawn into my Dr. Phil Pill Store®)

I, Doc McGraw, prescribe them—HUGE amounts—

So I can draw BIG on their bank accounts.

"And who can draw as I can a connection

To obesity and each confection

You stuff in your troubled faces, hips

For all your troubles with relationships?

I draw out your confessions—for a _fee_

(I draw the line at pop philanthropy).

My lusting for 'the goods' brings my first law on

_—Free? Get real!_ ' I draw from this: to **Draw on**

**The experiences of** (confessions)

**Others for material** (possessions).

"So where's the beef?" "Where's the _beef_? I'll _tell_ you," Oprah said frantically. "it's in bloody Amarillo, at the _Texas Beef Trial_. Cattlemen are suing me for saying, on my show on mad cow disease, 'It has just stopped me cold from eating another burger.' Now I'm suffering from _mad cowboy_ disease." "This relationship needs a hero. What you need to do, Ms. Winfrey, is hire me to psych the jury pool out for you. You _do_ acknowledge that I, with two sons, am the most pop of pop psychologists, don't you?" "Er, well . . . uh—" "Look, you can't change what you don't acknowledge." "(Sigh) okay, you're the most pop." "Ya think? This is gonna be a changing day in your life." "You really think you can psych them out?" "It ain't about you! Have you read my book? These cowboys have got you on a marionette." "I _know_. __ I've tried every trick in the book to get off." "How's that workin' for ya?" "It's _not_." "Because you didn't read _my_ book. Have you had any other bad experiences in life." "Yes, I was born to poor, unmarried teenagers; was raped by my cousin, uncle, and a family friend; became a mother at fourteen (boy, died in infancy); I used drugs; my hair fell out due to a bad perm; I ballooned up to 238 lb; I was denied access to _Hermès_ in Paris; and I got conned by James Frey whose 'memoir,' _A Million Little Pieces_ —which I had chosen as an Oprah's Book Club pick—turned out to be a big pack of lies, embarrassing the hell out of me before millions." "What were you _thinking_? I'm gonna put some verbs in my sentences. **Hire** me. **Pay** me big bucks. **Put** me on your show. **Make** me a celebrity. **Give** me my own syndicated show. And finally, **continue** **having** bad experiences that I can draw on for material goods, and **confess** them to me so I can put them in my latest memoir, _A Million Little Psychoses_. Have you chosen it yet?"
**  
**

**Save detailed character descriptions for the cops**

****

** **

****

_Awaking, Frieda Lawrence has some advice for lewd novelist husband_ ** _D. H. Lawrence_** _._

[Yawn] "I haven't slept so long since _Sons and Lovers_. You no sooner began giving me the detailed description of Censorship's kisser than my eyes glazed over and I dropped right off." "You were out like a light for 36 hours." "Don't you get it? Glaze-eyed readers don't want you to paint detailed, _boring_ descriptions of your characters—" "They don't?" " _No,_ they want you to get on with the smut, and leave them to picture their carnal nature by their bawdy speech, prurient emotions, and wickedly lustful actions." "They do? . . ." 
**  
**

299. She Woke, and He Had Some Awakening

Lewd D. H. Lawrence had his way with details

In his _Lady Chatterly_ he/she tales

With "game"keeper _Lover_ ; tales of _Sons_

_And Lovers_ ; _Women in Love_ ; even ones

Who weren't—but would be—like _The Virgin and_

_The Gypsy_ , __ whose details, so womaned, manned,

Were so _descriptive_. "Immorality!

Such lurid detail! Gross! _Pornography!_ "

The self-appointed arbiter of _"UGH!"_

Long known to be a coldly austere thug,

Charged. " _Smut!_ I'll soon stop all your trafficking

Of bawdy detail—porno _graphic_ king!"

He pounced on D. "Pulp!" beat him pulpable.

"And bloody raw at that—you culpable

Hack—hack this!" Poor D., mugged ("My work, my _life_!"),

D.scribed the thug in detail for his wife. . . .

He learned a hardcore lesson when she dozed

Off being so thug-detail ill-disposed:

**Save D.-taled** [when thug Censorship cold stops

You] **character D.scriptions for the cops**.

When Frieda woke up two days later she stretched and said yawningly, "Goodness me, I haven't slept so long since _Sons and Lovers_. You no sooner began giving me the most detailed description of Censorship's kisser than my eyes glazed over and I dropped right off, feeling I had just been mugged." "Yes, I remember only too well. You were out like a light for some 36 hours, consequently missing my most luridly detailed D.scription of Censorship up to that moment. I had only just begun to elucidate, in the most exquisite detail, how his priggishly Victorian old maid of a bluenose—as prudishly pietistic as ever I had seen it—from a cerulean turquoise lapis lazuli at its tip, segued into the indignant gentian violet so straitlacedly emblematic of his sanctimoniously flaring nostrils, which rigid hue evermore darkened as it huffily ascended up the sides of his up-tight wowzer, reaching its spectral peak at its 'naughty _naughty!_ ' bridge in as deeply prissy a shade of Prussian blue as I had ever see—" "But, D.ear (yawn), don't you understand? Glaze-eyed readers don't want you to paint such detailed, _boring_ descriptions of your characters—" "They don't?" " _No,_ they just want you to get on with the smut, and leave them to picture the carnal nature of these lascivious characters for themselves by their bawdy speech, prurient emotions, and wickedly lustful actions." "They do?" "Of _course_ they do. Don't you know anything about the licentious nature of filthy-minded voyeurs?" "What a novel concept. Maybe I'll try that with _Snake._ No, I can't do that; _Snake_ is a poem. I know, I'll do it with _Love Among the Haystacks_. No, not that either; it's a short story. _Ah_ , of course. Why didn't I think of it first? I'll do it with _The Boy in the Bush_." " _The Boy in the Bush_?! Let me see. Yes . . . yes . . . _yes_ —it's, just as I thought! Far too much D-tale . . . for most."
**  
**

**A writer should strive to be invisible**

****

** **

****

_Inn operator Mrs. Reedar insists that her unseen guest (the_ ** _Invisible Man_** _) make himself inn visible._

"Wh-Wh-Whoi—Mr. Wroight, y-y-yer . . . the _Invisible Man_! Oi read yer book, oi did, in which yer were _nowhere to be seen_ for all that yer were speakin' entoirely _through yer characters_. And yet, Mr. Wroight, as I was passin' by in the 'allway and yer door was ajar, oi couldn't 'elp seein' yer was a-layin' in the bed—in the roight naked altogether. And though oi saw _nothin'_ but a bare depressin' outloine, oi couldn't 'elp blushin' all the same, 'avin been all me loife a voracious Reedar with a roight vivid imagination . . ." 
**  
**

300. The Writer Made Himself Invisible

In long coat, gloves, dark glasses, wide-brimmed hat,

The stranger, in a muffled voice and flat,

Face cloaked in gauze (no slightest glimpse of skin

Showed), checked into _The_ _Coach and Horses_ Inn

With "Wright, R." (all he wrote down in the book).

Innkeeper wife to husband said, " 'Ere—look,"

When two weeks had gone by, "we've seen no trace.

For all we know about 'is bloomin' case

'Is face is one that isn't _is_ ible:

Our Mr. Wroight's a man . . . _invisible_."

More weeks went by, but no glimpse did they see.

She said, "Gor, the suspense is killin' me."

One day when Wright was coated, gloved, and capped,

Dark glasses over bandages, she snapped:

" 'Ere, look 'ere, Mr. Wroight, this 'ere ain't roight.

We don't see yer by day, much less by noight.

A Wroight, yer must've gone to Wroightin' school

Where they're for drummin' into yer the rule:

**A Wroight, R.** [her frustration waxing full]

**Should stroive to make 'isself inn- _visible_**."

__

But all she managed to elicit from their mysterious unseen guest, despite her in-his-"face" confrontation, was a muffled sigh. "Look _'ere_ , Mr. Wroight," she said with an even more pronounced air of frustration, "it's roight disconcertin', it is, to get in a guest's face so—only to come face to _gauze_ with a swath of bandages. It's bleedin' 'igh toime yer made yerself inn _-visible_." He sighed another muffled sigh, then, clearing his throat in the same muffled tone, he spoke: "I fear, Mrs. Reedar, that, were I to make myself visible, it would spoil your reading of my face." "Mr. Wroight, I'm a grown woman, and oi've seen some 'orrible froights in me toime. If yer've been 'orribly burned or disfigured or summat, oi can take it. Go on. Make yerself inn-visible to me." "Are you sure, Mrs. Reedar?" "Yes, go on." At that he took off his hat and began ungauzing himself from the top of his head down. She, on seeing _nothing_ where each wrap had so lately been, could only gasp, her eyes wide. When he'd unswathed himself down to his collar, she, regaining her powers of speech, stammered, "Wh-Wh-Whoi—Mr. Wroight, yer . . . yer the _Invisible Man_! Oi read yer book, oi did, in which yer were _nowhere to be seen_ for all yer were speakin' entoirely _through yer characters_. And yet, Mr. Wroight, as I was passin' by in the 'allway and yer door was ajar, oi couldn't 'elp seein' yer was a-layin' in the bed yer made for yerself—in the roight naked altogether. And though oi saw _nothin'_ but a bare depressin' outloine, oi couldn't 'elp blushin' all the same, 'avin been all me loife a Reedar with a roight vivid imagination." "I trust that the images I put inside your head were satisfactory?" "Oh-h-h, _more_ than that, Mr. Wroight [blush], though oi did worry meself at the toime, oi did, that comin' across yer so, so unseenly like that moight be seen by some as roight unseemly."
**  
**

**If your writing looks like writing—rewrite it**

****

** **

****

_Prince William Henry has words of discouragement for_ ** _Edward Gibbon_** _on being presented with Vol. 6 of **The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire**_.

"One would hope you would not write anything more, Gibbon, but it seems you must." "Yes, and I see just how I shall put right my next magnum obese, _The History of the Decline and Fall of the Royal Pain in the Gloucester_ , the which, I dare say, by being kept pithy, will assure that the pedagogical force applied to that royal horse's appendage will be in direct proportion to its looking and sounding like _right_ ing, and just such a rite amount as to assure my re-riteing it over and over and over and over and . . ."
**  
**

301. His Righting Looked like Riteing: Done in Volumes

Rome. Edward Gibbon thought, "I'll write it all,

Yes, _all_ of it—the _whole_ decline and fall

Of the old Roman Empire." He began

To scribble; on and on and on he ran

To great length, and in seven years was done

With scribbling it, the first book: Volume I.

Its publication, as such scribblings do,

Encouraged him to scribble Volume II.

More scribble, Volume III; more scribbling pricks

Got IV, then V; "At last!" came Volume VI.

"That's it—I've _done_ it (hardly overnight);

I've got the whole decline and fall down right!

I must present VI to his royal head,

Prince William Henry." Henry looked and said:

"Another damned, thick, square book!" went his quibble

Royal. "Always scribble, scribble, scribble,

Eh, Mr. Gibbon? So, by writes, you thought

To _right_ Rome's history, by writing—taught,

Ehhh, Mr. Gibbon, **If your writing looks**

**And sounds like righting** , eh, **rewrite it**— _books_?"

"Then," the preternaturally deflated Gibbon asseverated crestfallenly, "at the particular point in time (late 1800s) of which I now presently spea—" "Dear _God_ ," Prince William Henry, 1st Duke of Gloucester and Edinburgh, effused with an imperious air of sovereign exasperation, "don't tell me you're beginning _another_ damned thick, square book?" "No, your Royal High Dudgeon, I was on my way to saying, before I was put off my historical trajectory, 'Then you think I should rewrite it?' " "One could well hope you would not write _anything_ more. But it seems you must— _eh_ , Mr. Scribble, Scribble, Scribble? Thus one can expect that it be _The History of the Decline and Fall of the Simple Declarative Sentence_ , __ in loud volumes, and to sound as well as look like _writing_ : a grossly inflated exemplar of the scrivener's art that strains at effect and swallows a vowel, that it might infuse the treacly sweet word, the ornately rococo, all too elaborately overblown phrase, a pluficiency of richly descriptive words, multifarious byzantine words of a labyrinthine nature, a too-long-winded superfluity of redundantly tautological pleonasms and related creeping verbosity, together with enough jargon, foreignisms, and cant, to say nothing of native pomposities, to assure that its fat, distended swellheadedness grossly overlards its communicative muscle— _eh_ , Mr. Gibbon? Have I got that right?" "Yes, I see what you mean—and just how I shall put right my next magnum obese, _The History of the Decline and Fall of the Royal Pain in the Gloucester_ , the which, I dare say, by being kept pithy, will assure that the _ped_ agogical force applied to that royal horse's appendage will be in direct proportion to its looking and sounding like _right_ ing, and just such a rite amount as to assure my re-riteing it over and over and over and over and . . . _eh_ , Mr. Glib One?"
**  
**

**There's no good writing; only good rewriting**

****

** **

**_Jack the Busher_** ** __**_responds to swellhead Yankees pal_ ** _Ron Goodry_** _in righting._

"Pal Ron: I couldn't not be no happyer for you. Its some thing alright to of won the world serious though I guess if I'd been pitchin' we'd of won it in 4 games in stead of 7. Still you was pitching south foe paws at the top of your game so it couldn't of came out no other ways. But on your other glove hand, you can allways make your writeing come out right just by re writeing. For instants your salivating 'Pal Jack' which you should of been putting one a them high-salutin' colognes after it, like me, so it would stink less. . . ."
**  
**

302. There's No Good Writing; Only Good Rewriting

Ron Goodry, southpaw pitcher for the New

York Yankees wrote, "Pal Jack I'm writeing you

to say how things is standing now with me

up here to the Big Appel NY.C.

I guess Jack I'm about the happyest

bloke thats from Looziana voted best

south handed pitcher. I'm sure glad a kid

I got in athaletics when I did,

or wouldn't not of been no majors star,

but wind up in the bush leegs where you are

" 'cause here we've just won the world serious

and Jack you wouldn't not beleev the fuss

the fans and all the press is making over

us and all the shampain and the clover

come our way, gals sighin I'm Gods gift

for all the big named slugers that I whiffed

to win the serious with one hand. So

pal Jack, big leeg now, I guess I should go."

" **They's no good righting** all his big mistakes,"

Jack sighed; **just Goodry writeing**. _All_ he makes."

All the same, Jack wrote, "Pal Ron: I couldn't not be no happyer for you. Its some thing alright to of won the world serious though I guess if I'd been pitchin' we'd of won the serious in 4 games in stead of 7. Still you was pitching south foe paws at the top of your game so it couldn't of came out no other ways. They's no way to make it right now. But on your other glove hand, you can allways make your writeing come out right which it can be using a lot of it just by re writeing good. A person never sees on they first writeing all the miss takes your making. Its only going back all over it all that your catching them though I guess you never won any rewards for that cattlegory niether. For instants your salivating 'Pal Jack' which you should of been putting one a them high-salutin' colognes after it, like me, so it would stink less. Then you was sayin what a happyest bloke __ you was which it aint a likely that a Yankee ball player is going to be saying it. And if he is he's not going to be no happyest one, and they's a reason why, and its asking if you don't know you can't not be using no double negatiffs like when you said you wouldn't not of been no majors star. It seems you didn't hardly see it when you write it that you're two negatiffs is canseled the others out and make a positiff. But I'll say so long for now pal Ron even though by writes I could of point out more misteaks in your writeing, so many in facts I don't hardly know where to head in at. But I'm the kind of a freind doesn't like to pile on. You know me Ron. Still you know best and if you think I should point out the more egrievous ones no bush leeger would make them I will if you'll send me one a them SOS stamped onvelopes in which your allowing 2 wk.s for the harsh deliverys. Any ways I couldn't not be no happyer you won the serious Ron. I just couldn't. You're pal. Jack"
**  
**

**There is but one rule: Be clear**

****

** **

****

_It is perfectly clear what_ ** _L. Ron Fibhard_** _is up to: he left his body in order to pursue higher level lying, free of fleshly confines._

"It isn't _right_! I wrote the book on religion— _Lieanetics_ —and where do I wind up? In Writing Hell, __ for God's sake!" "Do you think you could see your way clear not to speak of _him_ down here? And let me be absolutely clear—" "Clear. All right, Beliezebub, but it'll cost you—thousands. Who in Hell is _that_?" "E. Ken Lay." "Past tense of lie! What's _he_ down here for?" "What the Hell else would he __ be in Writing Hell for besides eternal damnation? Unclear writing." " _Thank the_ _Lord!_ We're talking _billions_ getting him Clear."
**  
**

303. He Left His Flesh to Lie High in the Sky

Pulp fiction writer L. Ron Fibhard found

His writing ( _Lieanetics_ ) write fogbound.

"No, this won't do at all—it's clear: I must

Found a religion fools will put their trust

In; one they can't see through so, all agog,

They won't see 'Elron' is the God of SMOG:

All Smoke, and Mirrors, Obfuscation, Guile,

That I might thus bamboozle them the while.

_The Church of Lie-Unt'-Allogy_ —I like

The ring of it (cash register), the psych

"Of messing with the brainwashed heads of pre-

Clear chumps who cannot, for the smokescreen, see

My writing's full of so much SMOG, to wit,

Bull—they won't see I'm holy full of it.

They'll pay me, Elron, _thousands_ for each course

Upon the path to 'Clear.' _Fools_ , they'll endorse

My rule to end all rules of writing style,

In rising to this level all the while:

**There is but one rule** (when you write this here:

_Pay to the order of_ Elron ): **Be Clear**."

"Elron has left the body," the official Church of Lie-Unt'-Allogy press release began, "to conduct higher-level spiritual research, unfettered by mortal confines." "It isn't _right_!" Elron sobbed piteously. "I—I left my earthly temple to pursue higher-level research—and where do I wind up? Doing _lower_ -level research—in Writing Hell, __ for God's sake!" "Do you think you could see your way clear not to speak of _him_ down here?" Beliezebub, Head of the Church of Satanology hissed. "And let me be absolutely clear—" "Clear. All right, but it'll cost you—thousands." "I said 'clear'—not 'Clear.' What part of 'clear' don't you understand?" "The part about my doing _lower_ -level spiritual research, when I went out of body to do hi—" "I should have thought with all the Vistaril the coroner found in it you'd have been high enough. But clearly, there's nobody lower than you are down here, so any research you do is going to be high—well, maybe one." "Who in Hell is _that_?" "Who in Hell else but E. Ken Lay." "What's _he_ down here for?" "What the Hell else would he __ be in Writing Hell for—besides eternal damnation? Unclear writing. I've seen this Enron's books, and you wouldn't believe the smoke and mirrors, obfuscation and guile this crook had besmogging the bottom line—to mention just one." "Like pile-on adjectives; empty adverbs; unnecessary, colloquial, foreign, archaic, obsolete, indirect, illiterate, abstract, long, poetic, slang words; provincialisms; exaggerations; neologisms; faulty parallelism; dangling modifiers/verbal phrases; jargon; unnecessary details; squinting modifiers; run-on sentences; mixed comparisons; mixed-up metaphors; euphemisms; circumlocutions; gobbledygoo—" "All that—and more." "What's _his_ church?" "The Church of CEOlogy." " _Thank you_ , Lord! What a money pit! We're talking billions, _billions_ getting him Clear."

**44. Rules of Thumb—But Not _Me!_**

**Thumb 27 Novel "Rules" Thumb of Us Love to Thumb Our Knowses At**

_If, in reading the following pages, you are uncertain as to whether a specific statement is meant seriously or not, simply apply this rule of thumb: If the statement makes you consider filing a lawsuit, I was kidding._

—Dave Barry

**My Only Rule is _They Can Keep Their Rules_**

"Do this! Do that! Do __ not __ do this! Do __ not

Do that! Thumb-one, are these how you've been taught

Your whole life long, okay, however short?

Are these and all their ilk what they exhort

You not to do—or do? Well, Thumb-one chum,

Cheer up! _With me_ _you're under **no one's** thumb_

To do or not to do. I free you from

All that, so cheer up Thumb-one, don't be glum.

Believe in, trust in me; you can, you see,

Ignore my 'rules'— _all_ —with impunity.

"Who am I? Why, dear, I'm your Anti-Rules.

Whom you find _not_ in Humpty Dumpty Schools

Where all are under his thumb—as I'm not

—Not me! you see, I don't fall for such RoT

As that, their Rules of Thumb—no, not me, no.

To schools like that, well, I refuse to go.

Mick Jagger can sing 'Under My Thumb,' thunder

_'Do this, do that!'_ I won't fall, be under

Him—nor Humpty Dumpty on his wall.

Let them _,_ for _me_ , fall—broken rules and all."

_Oh_ , glorvelous day, darlings! You have given it your all, hardly daring dream in a million tears that the day would come when you'd be able to throw off the oppressive yolk that is Humpty Dumpty and his eggheaded Rules of Thumb, merely by making a mad dash to add _—But Not Me!_ Rules that even Tom Thumb would never have been a slave to. Of course you all remember General Tom Thumb, the three-foot-something midget that sly, old P. T. Barnum ("There's a sucker born every minute") showed off, what little there was of him, for all he was worth—what? _We don't remember him?_ Oh, that's right, he was just a little before your time, too, wasn't he? But that's no excuse for not knowing he sat in a corner of Iraq eating his Kurds and hard way of life, and then stuck in his thumb and pulled out _some_ plum: _Jack Sprat can eat NO fat! His wife can eat NO lean! _and all the other plum eggheaded rules sticking to it—what? _Don't I mean Little Jack Horner?_ Well of course I do. I said Jack the Giant Killer to see who is paying attention—and who _isn't_.

Now, if you're all through second-guessing me, come, _class of oh please don't say it's over_ ; let us click on Humpty Dumpty together and commence the immensely satisfying pleasure of dragging him and his silly Rules of Thumb to the trash—oh, but do be careful in dragging him down off the wall, won't you, that you don't accidentally drop him on your desktops. As a general rule of thumb it is ever so much easier to trash someone in one eggheaded piece rather than a gazillion scrambled shards one at a time. Only think of the massive amounts of memory you will be freeing up, which I'm certain you will find good use for (fond memories of a favorite teacher, say) when this, your final precious day at Ms. Spinster's is over. Oh, but you must pay me, I who have paid ever so dearly for your education, no mind—what? No, it's just an eye infection; I always get it at this time of year. Go on, _go on_ now, keep dragging, keep going—only not so quickly, _class of oh please, please stay_. And remember, yes, promise me now, there's my educated darlings, that no matter how many silly pieces I break up into, whom all the king's verses and all the king's men shall never put back together again— _don't stop_ —or all is hopelessly lost with us, I mean me, I mean—oh, I don't know _what_ I mean. Go on, go on with you now. Look with your young and clear and innocent eyes straight ahead into your futures so bright with promise, so rosy with marriage prospects, and don't—no, _don't_ look into mine. Only promise me, howsoever many pieces I go all to, that you'll reach out your dear little arms and tenderly embrace some small broken-up sliver of me and keep me with you always in your memories, and in your hearts. Oh, and, darlings, I beg of you (I've never asked you for much), in bending your little noodles unfailingly, and never more adorably, as you have always done, towards your concluding year-end exercise, dragging Humpty Dumpty and his eggheaded Rules of Thumb to the trash, becoming thoroughly adept at dragging in the process, I ask only, when that saddest of moments comes at last and you get up from your desks (with _joy_ in your hearts), and commence walking ( _don't run!_ ) __ out of Room 101 for the final time, and out of my life ( _oh don't!_ ), that you commence, and go right on dragging your feet—no, _please,_ don't worry about marring the floor with your darling wee scuffs (I could rain a thousand grateful kisses on each blessed one). I invite you, _plead_ with you, _class of oh, stay, if only a moment longer_ , to drag them to your heart's content (and mine, did I mention mine?) for just as long as you wish to linger (oh, please, _please_ linger), if only to delay, yet once more, the cruel and unbearably sad drag that is loneliness of an empty schoolroom, and an even emptier schoolmarm, following

**The Novel Rules of Thumb—But Not _Me!_**

**Menachem Begin, Saddam Hussein, Yasser Arafat**

Do not begin a sentence with a conjunction

**Ofsame been Laden, Mohamed Atta**

Avoid the use of _same_ in place of a personal pronoun

**Same Davis Jr., Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin**

Don't ever use the same word twice in the same sentence

**Sir Thomas More, King Henry VIII**

Things cannot be more perfect, unique, complete, round, absolute, etc.

**Ken and Barbie**

Shun the split infinitive

**the Three Witches, Macbeth**

Do not use _and which_ or _but which_ unless preceded by a prior _which_

**Hoyt Active, Joe Passive**

Active verbs are always better than passive verbs

**Denns Kozlouseski, Judge Michael Obus**

Never start a sentence with "There is . . ." or "There are . . ."

**Abu Musobbing al-Zarqawi, Satan**

Don't use sentence fragments

**Cybele, Minerva Medica**

Use _between_ for two, _among_ for more than two

**J. P. More-Than, Andrew Carnegie**

Always use _more than_ instead of _over_ with numbers

**the Smothers Brothers, the Other Brothers**

Always use _each other_ for two, _one another_ for more than two

**Robert Frost**

Never split a verb phrase

**the Wright Brothers, Teddy Roosevelt**

Never write a one-sentence paragraph

**Bill Cosby, Fitty Cint**

Do not use _since_ to mean _because_

**Bob Hopefully, Bing Crossly**

Never start a sentence "Hopefully . . ."

**Iyore, Pooh Bear**

Never use first person _I_ or _me_

**Clifford Irving, Howard Hughes**

Never use contractions

**Marvin Eder, Joe Weider**

Never use _you_ to refer to your reader

**Gloria Old-Dead**

Always use the old dead Latin plural

**Franz Liszt, Captain Ahab**

In a list use _and_ and _or_ but once

**Tarzan and Jane**

Alternatives cannot be more than two

**Thor Heyerdahl, Jane Austen**

_Their_ is never singular

**However Hughes**

Never begin a sentence with "However . . ."

**Arthur Saxon, Eugen Sandow**

Saxon words are superior

**Donald Trump, Ted Cruz, Bernie Sanders, Hillary Clinton**

Foreign words should always be pronounced as foreigners pronounce them

**Con E. Francis**

Never end a sentence with a preposition

**Martha Stewart**

Never end a sentence with a preposition

**Do not begin a sentence with a conjunction**

****

** **

****

**_Yasser Arafat, Menachem Begin, and Saddam Hussein_** _have a lot in conjunction._

" **But** , Begin, you _did_ begin a sent-hence with a _con_ junction," Saddam fired off. " **So** sue me, Sad Sack," Menachem fired back. " **Either** I **or** someone else without sin," Yasser interjected, "ought to nuke some sense into both your nukelheads." " **And** just why is that—Arafathead?" " **Because** , Menachem, you're not supposed to start a sentence with a conjunction." " **As** you, holier than thou, would never do," Menachem sneered. " **Nor** would I, non-kosher Bacon." " **Since** when, Sodom Insane? **But** let's talk peace . . ." 
**  
**

304. Conjunction, Then Their Sentences Began

He feared, Prime Minister of Israel

Menachem Begin, dreaded the bombshell

Of Saddam- _con-Jew_ red ( _"Nuke them!"_ ) holocaust

—No Israel—a hard-to-swallow cost,

So ordered a preemptive sneak attack:

The nuclear reactor in Iraq

Hussein was throwing money at, to prime;

While Yasser Arafat, at the same time,

Was con-Jewring up, sending (no compunction)

Suiciding bombers in conjunction.

Fighter jets (Israeli) streaked; bomb mission:

_Bomb the site! Put flat out of commission_

_Dreaded con-Jew menace—flatten the_

_Osirak nuclear facility!_

Menachem, when he'd sent the fighters hence,

Was, no less than their daring pilots, tense.

And rightly so—Osirak proved a con:

The real nuke site, well out of sight, glowed on.

Menachem learned, nukes pointed, poised to function,

**Don't Begin a sent-hence with _con_ junction**.

" **But** , Begin, you _did_ begin a sent-hence with a _con_ junction you can't begin to finish," Saddam fired off anew clear across Jordan to further knock him. " **So** sue me, Sad Sack," Menachem knocked him back. " **And** besides, you just started off a _sentence_ with one. **When** you're, anew, clear reactor yourself!" " **Either** I **or** someone else without sin," Yasser interjected, "ought to nuke some sense into both your nuclear war heads." " **And** just why is that—Arafathead?" Menachem bristled. ( **But** is _bristle_ kosher? he wondered.) " **Because** ," Arafat shot back, "you're supposed to _use a conjunction only_ _as a linking word to connect words or groups of words in a sentence_. **While** both you nukelheads just broke the most sacred _Rule of Thumb—But Not Me!_ in the book." " **Whereas** _you_ would never commit such a sin," Saddam sneered mockingly, his derision slouching toward Ram Allah. " **For** I, Arafat, am _holier_ -than-thou," Menachem mustered scornfully. ( **So** is _mustard_ kosher?) " **Yet** you did break—and _continue_ to break—the rule, which is as much as to say the off again–off again peace treaty," Yasser set off in double quotation marks, much as if he were setting off two more crazed suicide bombers on the road to Haifa. " **As if** , Yasser, Yasser, _three bags full of it_ ," Menachem snidely shot back (he'd been itching to launch that long-range ballistic dis-missile since Intifada I), "you were the Middle East Grammar Police." " **Even though** he wouldn't know a rule-breaker unless he looked one in the mirror," Saddam sarcastically shot back across the bloody Gauza Strip. " **Notwithstanding** our common despising of one another, you vile, colluding, conspiring _treacherous_ sons of Allah-gory," Menachem offered by way of conciliation, "we three peace-seekers do have a lot in conjunction." **"Since _when_?" **Yasser and Saddam conjunctively exploded.
**  
**

**Avoid the use of _same_ in place of a personal pronoun**

****

** **

****

**_Ofsame been Laden_** _radicalizes Mohamed Atta and spurs on the sa—._

" _Go!_ Hijack four infidel-filled jumbo jets and fly the sa—four infidel-filled jumbo jets into the twin World Trade Center Towers and knock down the sa—those phallic symbols of western decadence so beloved of godless infidels and filled with sa— _nonbelievers_ who foolishly believe in a Christian God who gave his only begotten son, and three days after he was crucified resurrected the sa— . . ." __ Epilogue: Ofsame went sickly on, religiously avoiding the use of _same_ in place of a personal pronoun, and in time it was 9/ _12_ , and . . ." 
**  
**

305. He Failed at 9/11 All the Same

In planning 9/11, sick Ofsame

Been Laden, sick to death of his birth name,

Recruited twenty suicide hijackers

To become George W. Bush whackers.

"Go now! Hijack four jets, groups of five,

And, up for glory—don't come down alive.

Think! _Seventy-two_ virgins each, O vowers,

If you down—praise Allah!—the twin towers,

Making right the '93 snafu

That Ramzi Yousef— _bungler!_ —failed to do.

"I've chosen, as your suicide-pact leader,

No mean personal-prone noun _succeeder_ ;

One who so believes, who takes his pact

So personally, that he's prone to _act_.

So Ramzi 'Bungler' Yousef was put out

Much by my choice—tough! I was not about

To trust that klutz who'd barely even burned

The towers—burning me up; thus I learned:

**Avoid the Yousef (same) in place of** —what **a**

**Personal-prone noun**!—Mohamed Atta."

"I have closely scrutinized the plan of your sicko-drama," Mohamed said, "and I agree to undertake the same." " _Atta boy_ , Mohamed! But as Allah is my soul witness, I'm sick enough of having been laden with my name, Ofsame been Laden, without your making me all the sicker by repeating the sa—name I'm so sick of I can't bear to repeat it. Look, I may be fundamentally sick of it, but it's religious zealots like _you_ who should be locked up in the Hospital for the Criminally in Sa—me, I avoid using this obnoxious and dirty little four-letter word—and I'll be damned if I'll suffer your using the sa— _it_. Yes, that is the simple solution: using _it_ , _them_ , _him_ , _her_ or other personal pronoun in order to avoid repeating the original wordy locution. But as you've been taught your whole miserable lives, grammar, unlike us jihadists, is not simple. So the only complex solution is to avoid _it_ or other personal pronoun as well as the obnoxious and dirty little four-letter word, which I won't mention—nor will _you_ —in favor of some wordy locution. So _go!_ Hijack four infidel-filled jumbo jets and fly the sa—four infidel-filled jumbo jets into the World Trade Center Towers and knock down the sa—those phallic symbols of western decadence so beloved of godless infidels and filled with sa— _nonbelievers_ who foolishly believe in a Christian God who gave his only begotten son, and three days after he was crucified resurrected the sa—he who did the miracles with the loaves and fishes by the waters of the sea and walked upon the sa—the body of H2. . . ." __ Epilogue: Ofsame been Laden went sickly on in this way, religiously avoiding the use of _same_ , and the personal pronouns he might well have used in its stead, and in the course of time it was 9/ _12_ —and too late: 9/11 never happened. So should you avoid use of _same_? Suit yourselves and please the same.
**  
**

**Don't ever use the same word twice in the same sentence**

****

** **

****

_Dean Martin and Frank Sinatra samewich_ ** _Same Davis Jr._** _so equitably between them that neither one gets less; both get more of the Same._

"Hey, what's up, Same?—don't tell me. Same old same old, right?" "Right, Dean, how'd you guess—it was a lucky guess, right?" "So, Same, you're a level-headed guy, level with me." "I'll level with you if you level with me." "Why do you do that, that repetition thing of yours? Why do you?" "Man, you _do_ know I'm an old song and dance man, do you not?" "Of course." "So I'm giving folks the Same old song and dance, because the same is what those same folks expect a Same old song and dance man to give them . . ." 
**  
**

306. He Samewiched _Same_ in Often in Each Sentence

Same Davis Jr. (yes, the very Same)

Was aptly named by way of his first name:

He'd use a word within a sentence chain,

Then use the same, the selfsame word again

Before he reached the end, done, period

—Bane! Same might use the same a _myriad_

Of times. This habit got Sinatra's goat

So bad he got a _sore_ lump in his throat,

So putting off his big-name crooning game

He sorely croaked to Davis Jr., Same:

"Same, shoot your mouth off with some _elegant_

_Variety_." "You mean like hunters hunt—

The big-eared elegant in Africa,

The small-eared elegant in India?

I dig." "Same, listen, you must _not_ sin, _not_ tra-

la that way, so not like Frank Sinatra."

"No—the _same_?" "Same, _stop_ that, in God's name.

You want the same should think that you're _insame_?

Man, Same, __**Don't _ever_ use the same word twice**

**In the Same sentence**." [same old Same advice]

"Hey, what's up, Same?" fellow Rat Packer Dean Martin sang out to Same on running into him in Sameria. "—Don't tell me. The same old same old, right?" "Right, how'd you guess—it was a lucky guess, right?" "Right. So, Same, you're a level-headed guy, level with me." "I'll level with you if you level with me." "Why do you do that, that repetition thing of yours—why do you?" "Man, you _do_ know I'm an old old song and dance man, do you not?" "Of course, of course." "So I'm just giving folks the Same old song and dance because the same is what those same folks expect a Same old song and dance man to give them." "Hey," Old Blue Eyes interjected. "you mind if I crash your party, and _break into_ _the same_? Did you notice, Same, how I used the principle of elegant variation there, using a synonym for 'crash,' _break into_ , and a synonym for 'party,' _the same_ , to avoid using 'crash and 'party' again in the same sentence?" "You just used 'crash' and 'party' twice in the same sentence," Same laughed, "crashing your own late-model elegant variation into an affectation and totaling the same. Sorry, I couldn't resist getting a dig in, and digging it." "Well here's something you can dig—and _unearth_ a little something called elegant variation." "Oh, I get it, man. I should dig 50% of the time, and _unearth_ the other half of the chronology, is that right, Mr. No-Sin Sinatra?" " _Now_ we're seeing eye to orb. That is what I'm saying, Candy Man, Mr. Wonderful, Mr. Show Business, World's Greatest Living Entertainer—next to me." "If it's all the same to you, you could just call me Same. I get enough variety in my variety show and in _Variety._ " "Yes, but not _elegant_ variety." "Hey, man, I listen to a variety of Ellaphants Gerald songs—" " _No way_ , Same! _The_ Ellaphants Gerald, the _pachyderm_ , the singer's singer?" "The same, man, the _same_."
**  
**

**Things cannot be more perfect, unique, complete, round, absolute, etc.**

****

** **

****

**_Sir Thomas More_** _sticks his neck out to prove a point to King Henry VIII._

"More, things are either unique or they're not unique. They _can't_ be more, less, most, very, so, quite, relatively unique." "In Utopia they can be—and are. You see, Utopia exists in the _real_ world as opposed to the hidebound world of logic and mathematical ideals. Look, take your royal King-size gut (from _gluttony_ ). Do we not say it is round?" "Yes, bu—" "But we don't mean that it's perfectly, mathematically round, do we? No, we mean generally round, meaning it could be more or (theoretically) less round . . ."
**  
**

307. He Taught Him Things Can Be More Absolute

Sir Thomas More: "A true man for all seasons,

I commit more prime and more chief treasons

Than more balanced men; I'm more unique:

More infinite, more perfect world I seek,

Where _all_ shall be more equal, more complete

In happiness, more centered on the sweet

Life, where the streets are all more parallel,

The rounds more round, town squares more square as well.

_Come_ , follow me, throw off myopia,

And live more absolute Utopia!"

King Henry VIII: " 'Tis heresy you speak,

More, for this 'more' Utopia you seek,

For you have said, Tom More, if there I went

I should not find me more omnipotent

But _less_. So I condemn you—to _no head_.

You can't get more, More, absolute than dead."

"Who says," More said, au block, his death to meet,

" **Things cannot be more perfect, more complete,**

**Unique, round, infinite, square, eq—** " __ More said.

And just to prove his point he was More dead.

"Hang it all, More," Henry said. "Afore you mount unto the executioner's block, I would hear more of this more absolute Utopia of yours." "Then hear this: In one Utopian village of a thousand, one man is unique in having two right feet. In the adjoining village of two thousand, one man is unique in having two left feet." "I see, both are equally unique." "In a pig's eye!" The one-in-two-thousand man is more, in fact, twice as unique as the one-in-one-thousand man." "Bu—Bu—But that is _heresy_ , More. Things are either unique or they're not unique. They _can't_ be more, less, most, very, so, quite, relatively unique." "In Utopia they can be—and are. You see, Utopia exists in the _real_ world as opposed to the hidebound world of logic and mathematical ideals. Look, the streets in the one village run parallel for fifteen blocks; the streets in the other run parallel for fifty blocks." "Yes, yes, I _see_ , they're both perfectly equally parallel." "In a King's eye! The fifty-block streets are more parallel." "Bu—But—" "Look, take your royal King-size gut (from Olde Monarch _gluttony_ ). Do we not say it is round?" "Yes, bu—" "But we don't mean that it's perfectly, mathematically round, do we? No, we mean generally round, meaning it could be more or (theoretically) less round." "There is some less-than-Utopian wisdom in what you say, More, and I could mercifully commute your sentence, and you'd be less absolutely dead. But, no, I think I'll leave it to your beloved Pope Clement VII to grant you clemency and give you, More, absolute absolution for your sins." " _There_ , you've got it, Hank. Pray, do but see me safe up. In my coming down I can shift for myself." "Thomas More, you're a More complete cut-up than I gave you credit for." "And, if the axeman is ready, I can assure Your Majestic Fatguts that I shall be an even more More complete cut-up shortly."
**  
**

**Shun the split infinitive**

****

** **

****

_It's official:_ ** _Ken and Barbie_** _are splitting._

"Barbie, how do you say, _Do not split the infinitive_ in Latin?" "Oh, that's easy, Ken. You just open your mouth and say, _Do not split the infinitive in Latin!_ " "That's _right_. I don't know why everyone thinks you're so doll-witted. In Latin the infinitive is one word, so you _can't_ split it. Yet early English grammarians, schooled in dead Latin, imposed this _dictum_ _absurdum_ upon us two-word-infinitive living dolls—and ever since we've been terrified to split to, Barbie, from its naked verb—" "the _bare_ infinitive, Ken, tee hee." . . . 
**  
**

308. The Split Infinitive Split Them— _Forever?_

" _La_ _dollce vita_ is, all said and done,

To **** jointly be, two living dolls—but _one_ ,

Ken," Barbie sighed. "Yes, to **** so mingle all,

To **** doubly make a _double_ -living doll!

To—" "Yes, Ken tell the dollhouse truth of it,

To—" "never have the dolldrums to—" "sad! split

Apart like 'baby' dolls who but pretend

They're living dolls—" "so naturally they end

Up splitting, to—" "yes, trade their splitting headache

Wedded for, apart, a splitting bedache."

"So get back together, to—" **** "but split,

Get back together, once more vow, 'That's _IT!_ ' "

"But baby dolls ( _'Wah!' 'Wah!'_ ), they call it splitsville,

To—" "how _dull_ house!—" " 'live' **** in Call-it-Quitsville—"

"All alone—" "While we live to—" "yes, holler **,**

'Dolor!' over the almighty dollar;

To—" "yes, loudly warn them, you and me,

Each single baby doll to—" "Warning: Be

Eternally—" "yes, non-combinative,

To—" _"Yes_ , doll, __**Shun the split—infinitive**!"

"To be, or to not be? That is the question, Barbie. And here's another: How do you say, _Do not split the infinitive_ in Latin?" "Oh, that's easy, Ken. You just open your mouth and say, _Do not split the infinitive in Latin!_ " "That's _right_ , Barbie. I don't know why everyone thinks you're so doll-witted. In Latin the infinitive is one word, so you _can't_ split it. Early grammarians, schooled in dead Latin, imposed this _dictum_ _absurdum_ upon us two-word-infinitive living dolls—and we've been terrified to split to from its naked verb—" "the _bare_ infinitive, tee hee—" "ever since." "Yes, well this _Do not split_ rule may be fine for Latin Grammarians, Ken, but we living dolls have a problem with it. Such a problem that it's difficult to adequately express our exasperation." "Yes, these Latin dollts cry, _'NO!_ You've got to say "difficult adequately to express" or "difficult to express adequately" or "difficult to express our exasperation adequately," thereby getting the offending adverb _adequately_ , expressly meant to modify express, as far from it as possible for maximum ambiguity.' Still, Barbie, we'd like to firmly establish cordial relations with these dollts, but they insist that we desire 'firmly to establish' or 'to establish firmly.' For which _w_ e'd love to exasperatedly leap upon them and pummel a dollop of sense into them, but they protest, ' _NO!_ You must put _exasperatedly_ before "to," so it sounds artificial, or elsewhere in the sentence so it appears to modify either leap or pummel—but not _both_ —as you so exasperatedly want it to . . . _modify!_ Hah! The living dollts all thought I was going to end a sentence with a preposition there, doll.' " "Ken, why don't we get up the nerve to just bloody well drop the big one on them to—why not?—make mincemeat of the lot, now?" " _No,_ Barbie doll—we _can't_. They've got us too afraid to so damned well split the atom."
**  
**

**Do not use _and which_ or _but which_ unless preceeded by a prior _which_**

**__**

** **

**__**

_Macbeth encounters_ ** _Three Witches_** _in a roil over 'which'es._

"Prior Witch, you olde scrag, here's a lone _and which_ , which is above reproach: _The snake-in-the-grass I loathe_ , **_and which_** _loathes me, is evil._ " "Bah!—mere whichcraft. Your lips may not have admitted a prior _which_ —but your _ellipsis_ bespeaks louder than words. What you elliptically cackled is _The snake-in-the-grass(, **which** ) I loathe_, **_and which_** _loathes me, is evil._ You just didn't want to give a prior which, much less a Prior Witch, its rightful due." "Just like an olde witch to make _which_ a 'due' about nothing.". . . 
**  
**

309. Macbeth Could Use a Witch, But Which of Three?

Three witches roil about the boiling pot

Disputing which should come before . . . or not.

Soon And Witch, But Witch, and olde Prior Witch

The olde potboiler bring to boiling pitch:

"Crones!" Prior Witch spits out her warty face,

The which well made to pitch her witching case.

"My age alone gives me _seniority_

Of us three hags, we haggling witches three."

"Fie!" And Witch/But Witch croak, "Who needs some curst

Olde Witch like you to come before us— _first_?"

[Macbeth now comes upon the haggling three]

"Hags, I could use a witch to witch for me,

But ill can I afford to hire _two_ witches,

Save one prophesies me kingly riches.

I could use a young And Witch, or I

Could use a young But Witch to prophesy

Me wealth, but, _too_ , a Prior Witch my purs—"

Bewitched, Macbeth learns, plagued with Prior curse:

**Do NOT use _And Witch_ or _But Witch_ unless**

**Preceded by a _Prior Witch_**. **** Witch stress.

" _Which_ must come before—admission: / Which is an old superstition!" And Witch/But Witch cackle derisively, at which Prior Witch flies off the broom handle, croaking, "A _which_ before—out with admission / Is an olde olde _which_ tradition." "You mean 'olde _witch_ ,' you olde olde hag / The which is but an olde olde _scrag_. But here's one lone _and which_ , which is above reproach: _The snake-in-the-grass I loathe_ , **_and which_** _loathes me, is evil._ " "Bah!—mere whichcraft. Your curst lips may not have admitted a prior _which_ —but your curst _ellipsis_ bespeaks louder than words. What you elliptically cackled, which I'm not tickled by, is _The snake-in-the-grass(, **which** ) I loathe_, **_and which_** _loathes me, is evil._ You just didn't want to give a prior _which_ , much less a Prior Witch, its rightful due." "Just like an olde witch to make _which_ a 'due' about nothing." "Well at least I can _make_ something—like an evil curse I put upon witch ever is most deserving." " _Oooooh!_ we're trembling in our newts. Well here's something, _which_ we just made up, and which you'll notice is prior _which_ less: _The eye of newt, toe of frog, wool of bat, and tongue of dog we tossed into the pot, **but which** were not all we threw in, nicely thickened the potboiler_." "Which is— _witches!_ —the same olde lack of _which_ 's/Witch's respect: Weird sisters! You purposely left out the prior _which_ , barely paying it the required ellip service: _The eye of newt . . . tongue of dog(, **which** ) we tossed into the pot, **but which** . . ._" "Double's double toil and trouble / Boil potboiler, _which_ es bubble," "A black plague on both your witches. Which reminds me, here's something to give the whiches brew a little body [she tosses Macbeth into the pot]. " _That_ ," Macbeth screams, "is something ( . . . ) I hate, **_and which_** , _Prior Witch, makes my blood boil!_ " "Tut, tut. Don't forget the prior—" **" _WI-I-I-ITCH!_ "**
**  
**

**Active verbs are always better than passive verbs**

****

** **

**_Joe Passive and Hoyt Active_** _exhibit their dueling reverb guitar styles._

"Active verbs **act** , and in so acting **are** more forceful, vigorous, and concise. Ipso, _fatso_ , they **are** always superior over passive verbs." "Who is being called fat?" Joe Passive was moved to say. "Was it said of _me_ , Joe? Or was it leveled against my passive verbs that are made to _seem_ fat by their being wordier, but, nonetheless, are considered superior _to_ (not _over_ ) active verbs in certain situations." "So **say** _you_." "Yes, it is said by me." "No doubt you **plan** on telling us what they **are**." "It is so planned; for one, when it is thought . . ." 
**  
**

310. Hoyt's Active Verbs Were Beaten by Joe's Passives

Hoyt Active **played** a mean reverb guitar;

An axe he **played** not commonly by far.

Joe Passive didn't play an axe, oh no;

A mean reverb guitar was played by Joe.

Hoyt actively **pursued** an axe career

With one reverb: "I **play** so folks'll hear,

Then I **replay** to show I'm actively

Axe-playing." Joe was heard from passively:

"I'm __ pleased that it is known my jazz guitar

Is __ played by me, a passive reverb star."

"An active axe **sounds** better than a passive

Jazz guitar that's heard as _second classive_ ,"

Active **said** to beat Joe Passive down.

"Fine. I'm contented that much jazz renown

Is heaped upon my jazz guitar that's been

Played up so much in _Down Beat_ magazine,"

Joe Passive was heard talking _Down_ to Hoyt

In his way: Passive-verbally adroit.

Hoyt: " **Active verbs are _always_ better than**

Joe] [**Passive verbs**!" And on he hotly ran:

"Active verbs **act** , and in so acting **are** more forceful, vigorous, and concise. Ipso, _fatso_ , they **are** always superior over passive verbs." "Who is being called fat?" Joe Passive was moved to say. "Was it said of _me_ , Joe? Or was it leveled against my passive verbs that are made to _seem_ fat by their being wordier, but, nonetheless, are considered superior _to_ (not _over_ ) active verbs in certain situations." "So _you_ **say**." "Yes, it is said by me." "No doubt you **plan** on telling us what they **are**." "It is so planned; for instance, when it is thought more important to draw attention to the person or thing acted upon: _Joe Passive's guitar can be heard on numerous recordings with Frank Sinatra, Sarah Vaughn, Della Reese, Herb Ellis, Les McCann, Johnny Mathis,_ _and others_ ; when the doer can be inferred: _The Passive guitar is praised as being brilliantly played_; when responsibility is **** to be **** ducked: _Wrong notes were struck_; in scientific writing when it **** is desired that the all too actively egotistical 'I' be avoided: _First,_ _20 grammys of pure genius in each virtuosic note were recorded;_ when all male pronouns are **** to be **** avoided: _The average guitar pick is worn out in six months_ rather than, as never was said by me, _The average guitarist **wears** his pick out in six months;_ when a shift of emphasis is desired and, as is not uncommonly done, the former object is made the subject: _The_ _award-winning composition in Passive major, 'Unactive Melody,' was written by me_, rather than, as a certain egotistical member of the Axes of Evil would undoubtedly crow, _I wrote the_ _award-winning composition 'Active Melody' for Her Royal Highness in Active major, blah, blah, BLAH;_ and finally, for a refreshing change of pa—" "Oh, _please_ , allow me: _I was Passively led to believe that you were diagnosed a Joe Passive-aggressive egomaniac—and I, Hoyt, Actively **believe** it_."
**  
**

**Never start a sentence with "There is . . ." or "There are . . ."**

****

** **

****

_There is_ ** _Denns Kozlouseski_** _on the island of Sardinia throwing a $2,000,000 "Roman orgy" birthday party for wife Karen, an ice statue of David dispensing Stalichniya vodka._

There is elated pandemonium at the sentence. There are joyous cries of "There _is_ justice after all!" "There is none so blind as he who will not see the light of day—for _twenty-five_ long, lonely, blessed years!" "There is time off for good behavior." "There _is_?" "There are as many as sixteen years and eight months off." "There is a possibility that the crook will only serve _eight years and four months_?" "There is." " _There_ 's a kick in the front teeth for you!" "There are too bloody many bleeding hearts in this bleeding society." . . . 
**  
**

311. __ Don't Start a Sentence _—Crook!_ — _"There is . . ." "There are . . ."_

_Crook!_ "Denns" Kozlouseski had four hundred million

Lame excuses for ("Judge, let me fill y'in . . .")

His defrauding Tyco's bilked shareholders

Out of plus- _400 million_ folders:

"Two mil for wife Karen's birthday party

On the island of Sardinia— _arty_ ,

That ice sculpture of the statue David

Urinating vodka (caught on save vid);

Thirty mil for swank New York apartment;

Six-thou shower curtains added _artment_. . . ."

Artless when convicted (his "defense"

Failed), how he started at his sentence, Denns

(He'd cried his "i" out): "There is, Judge—no wait!

There _are_ excuses—" "Stop! You've sealed your fate.

So save your lying corporrupt excuses,

Useless, opposite of what the noose is.

_Twenty-five years!_ For? Crook, here's the pith:

You Denns one: **NEVER start a sentence with**

**_'There is . . . ,' 'There are. . . .'_** DON'T go 'There'—caveat!—

There's no defense; there's no excuse for that."

There is elated pandemonium at the pronouncement of sentence. There are joyous cries of "There _is_ justice after all!" "There is indeed!" "There is none so blind as he who will not see the light of day—for _twenty-five_ long, lonely, blessed years!" "There is time off for good behavior, don't forget." "There _is_?" "There are as many as sixteen years and eight months off." "There is a possibility, you mean, that the crook will only serve _eight years and four months_?" "There is every possibility of that." " _There_ 's a kick in the front teeth for you!" "There are too bloody many bleeding hearts in this bleeding society." "There is no sympathy for the victims." "There is ever the argument 'The criminal has reformed.' " "There are forty thousand kinds of lunacy, but only one common sense." "There's a law for the rich." "There's a law for the poor." "There is something mighty rotten in the state of jurisprudence." "There are no teeth in the law anymore." "There is nothing so certain as death in lexes." "There is also a widespread superstition, since we're on the subject of laws," sentencing Judge Michael Obus manages to get a _there_ in, "that you should never start a sentence with _There is_ or _There are_." "There are, one presupposes, any number of good reasons for that." "There aren't." "There aren't?" "There _aren't_!" " _There_ is English for you in a nut's hell." "There is no rhyme or reason to it all." "There is too!" "There _is_?" "There is the above verse, for example. There are no less than ten rhyming couplets in it." "There are the same even number in _every_ one!" "There is a definite pattern emerging." "There's no disputing that." "There's a chance, then, the Denns one could _beat_ this rap on a technicality?" "There isn't a snowball's chance in hell." "There isn't?" "There isn't. There's too much public outrage." "There _is_ justice—hallelujah!—after all!" "There _is_?"
**  
**

**Don't use sentence fragments**

****

** **

****

_Hell. Arrival of_ ** _Abu Musobbing al-Zarqawi_** _in frag-mince, ferried across the River Styx by Charon, Ferryman of the Dead._

Satan: "Man, you _da bomb_!" "Think so?" " _Abu_ solutely! The _pièces de résistance._ But then again, your manhood." "What about it?" "Still got it?" "By the grace of Allah." "How many pieces?" "Hmmm [counting], a million or more." "A _million_?" " At least." "Fragmented?" "Yeah." " _Ouch!_ Pity." "What? Something _wrong_?" "Afraid so. Three pieces, okay. Pieces of a _million_ —no way! Won't work." "Not at all? With _any_ of my seventy-two?" "Nope, sorry. Not together enough. Told you not to be fooling with . . ."
**  
**

312. Learned Too Late. No Sentence Fragments. None

Al Qaeda terrorist Abu Musobbing

al-Zarqawi, ruthless at his jobbing

(Terror), rigged up improvised explosive

_BOOM!_ devices to blow up, "Corrosive

Of U.S., Iraqi man in "kind."

Rule Number One: _Pay innocents no mind_

_—KILL._ Use whatever suits expedience;

Make them with what's-at-hand ingredients:

Gross fragments of this, shredding ones of that.

Rule Number Two: _Include no caveat_."

One IED, all al-Zarqawi had

At hand were some small fragments of ("Oh, _bad!_

Pure sentience: I feel, Allah, _sympathy_

For shredded victims—Allah, _empathy_ ,

_Compassion_ , _kindn_ —"). That broken shard of sentience

Doomed his fragment-laced bomb-making penchants:

Tossing _kindn . . ._ into the IED,

Made heat. He saw _"I'm going to D— **AI!** —E!"_

**_BOOM!_** Abu learned, a million bits of Bagh-mince,

Some wee bits late, **Don't use sentience fragments**.

Scene: Hell. Arrival of Abu Musobbing in frag-mince. Greeted by Satan: "Man, you _da bomb_!" "Think so (sniff)?" " _Abu_ solutely! The _pièces de résistance._ " "Really? No bull?" __ "Better. No _Abu_ ll. Seventy-two chaste ones awaiting you. One for each _so many_ pieces." "Every one unsullied? Pure? Uncorrupted? Innocent? Spotless? _Immaculate_?" "Pure as the driven snow." "All praise to Allah! Thanks!" "My pleasure. Enjoy!" "Or _bon appetit!_?" "Of course. _Salud!_ as well." "Bitchin'!" "But then again . . ." "What?" "Almost forgot." "Forgot what?" "Your manhood." "What about it?" " _Abu_ t it!" "All right, what _Abu_ t it?" "Still got it?" "By the grace of Allah." "How many pieces?" "Hmmm [counting], a million, if not more." "A _million_?" "Yeah, at least." "Fragmented?" "Yeah." " _Ouch!_ Pity." "What? Something _wrong_?" "Afraid so. Three pieces, okay. Pieces of eight, okay. Pieces of a _million_ —no way! Won't work." "Not at all? With _any_ of my seventy-two?" "Nope, sorry. Not nearly together enough. No. Told you not to be fooling with sentience fragments." "A thousand and one curses upon Allah! What an immature, naïve, gullible, bombboozleable fool!" "Allah?" " _No_ , you satanic fool— _me_!" "How so?" "Seventy-two virgins, a river of honey, paradise, _immortality_ —what a crock!" " _Ray_ Crock? Founder of McDonald's restaurants? 'Over _200 billion_ pieces of butchered, slaughtered, fragmented, gruesomely minced creatures served'? Sentenced to eternal damnation? Over there—in the deepest, most fiery pit of Hell. With added sulphur. The Sentence Fragment (lacking a subject, predicate, or both) Slough of Despond. Want to meet him?" "No, _meat_ him, _frag_ him, make _mince_ meat of him, the heartless sonofa—" " _Ca-a-areful_ , Eunuchlehead. Don't want to offend him. Have him _super_ -sighs you for one helluva loveless eternity."
**  
**

**Use _between_ for two, _among_ for more than two**

****

** **

****

**_Cybele_** _, Phrygian Goddess of Fertility, bemoans her cruel barrenness to Minerva Medica, Goddess of Medicine. ("What did you expect? You're Phrygid, for God's sake.")_

"A barren wasteland outside of me—a barren waistland _inside_ of me," Cybele sobbed. "I'm stuck **among** _barren_ rock and a heart place." " _Ai!_ no, you mustn't run amok with **among** so, Sighbelly." " _SIB-_ e-lee!" "Whatever. You're stuck **_between_** barren rock and a heart place. Didact, the god of pedantry says, 'One must use **between** when two and only two are involved ( _the battle **between** good and evil_), and **among** when there are more than two ( _there is a nonbeliever **among** you_). But **between** is the right choice when . . ."
**  
**

313. _Well There's Your Problem There,_ She Said: _You're Phrygid_.

In mythic Asia Minor, Cybele,

The Phrygian Goddess of Fertility,

As ill befits one crowned with fruitful myrtle,

Found herself (O cruel Fate!) infertile.

Naturally occurring physics failed her

Of the infertility that ailed her,

Giving her a massive headache ( _"Ahhh!")_ ,

So she called on Minerva Medica,

Blest goddess of prescription medi-cures

— _"Help!"_ —hoping an "infertile" cure be hers.

Minerva wrote her three prescriptions: "Fruitful,

Each will have you swell-in-birthday-suit-full

In due course. Here's how to use them: swallow

One of these; fertility shall follow:

**One _®_** (with any one-thing-on-his-mind

Greek god) will yield you _one_ (the standard bind)

Small bouncing god or goddess; you want more

Than one (the sighed effects are twice the chore

Or _more_ ), **Use** (either one, you'll soon be due)

**_Between®_ for two, _Among®_ for more than two**."

****

"A barren wasteland outside of me and—and a barren waistland _inside_ of me," Cybele sobbed. "I'm stuck **among** _barren_ rock and a heart place." " _Ai!_ no, you mustn't run amok with **among** so, Sighbelly." " _SIB-_ e-lee!" "Whatever. You're stuck **between** barren rock and a heart place. Didact, the god of pedantry, is unequivocal on this. Says he: 'One must use **between** when two and only two are involved ( _the battle **between** good and evil_), and **among** when there are more than two ( _there is a nonbeliever **among** you_). But, oh god! **between** is the appropriate choice when you want to express the relations of two or more taken one pair at a time ( _there were heated exchanges **between** Zeus, Athena, Poseidon, and Aphrodite_). **Between** expresses one-to-one relation to many things ( _one must strike a delicate balance **between** home, being an absolute goddess, and bearing fruit_). __**Among** expresses a relation that is anything but reciprocal or mutual ( _the three godmothers had forty-two godchildren **among** them_) _._ ' And you with _none_ , Sighbelly!" " _SIB_ -e-l _—_ " "Here, take these." __ "B-B-But what if I take **Among** —and I only give birth to **Between** s? Can I sue the pharmaceutical?" "Oh, of course—as long as you don't mind being **among** the suers of the universe." "You mean **among** lawyers?" "Gods save us _—NO!_ If I had meant lawyers I'd have said you'd be **among** the _sewers_ of the universe. And just **between** us goddesses—you are **among** goddesses, don't forget—you do not want to go there. But, look, Sighbelly—" " _SIB—_ " "you don't have to worry about that. **One** , **Between** , and **Among** are all safe when taken as directed. Just pop any on—" "Oh, it's all so one-two-or-more _prescriptive_. __ Have you nothing for fertility that's available over the encounter?" "Just **between** you and me and the frustrated childless gods, Sighbelly—" " _SIB —_" "no."
**  
**

**Always use _more than_ instead of _over_ with numbers**

****

** **

****

**_Andrew Carnegie and J. P. More-Than_** _butt heads over numbers, one more than the others._

"Bah, Carnegie, who says **more than** must always be used with numbers. By god, I'm **over** rebellious: I'm **over** 5' 6", **over** sixty-two years of age, and I've been thumbing my purple-hued, rosacea-afflicted nose at the ruling class for well **over** fifteen seconds now. I declare this More-Than Independence Day. I feel **more than** liberated! You old haggis-munching scoundrel, I'm going to throw caution to **over** three winds and use **'in excess of'** **in excess of** a hundred times—and let the confounded chips fall where they may . . ."
**  
**

314. They Both Used _More than_ , Each in His Own Way

Old J. P. More-Than more than made his money,

Yes, in money, as his father'd done; he

Took to banking, financed U. S. Steel

Corp., more than just a pocket-money deal.

He bought out Andrew Carnegie, a Scotsman,

Saying bluntly, purple-nosed old yachtsman,

"How much? Lay it out there in round numbers

— _Over greedy_ , mind, you'll hurt my slumbers;

Over market value, you'll abuse me;

Over much, you'll sorely over _use_ me."

Carnegie well knew his numbers too,

As self-made rich men to a rich man do.

He knew enough to not use _over_ with

Those things that you can count, ay, there's the pith.

So he said, "More [then braced for all the hollers]

Than four-hunder-eighty million dollars."

" _Curse you_ , Carnegie! I see you know

To properly use _me_ , to get my dough:

**With numbers, always use _More-Than_ instead **

**of _over_** , so I'm More-Than in the red."

However, J. P. More-Than was more than tired of being so ill-used by a rule made by the ruling class to rule _over_ him. "Bah! Who says **more than** must be used with numbers ( **more than** _four hundred and eighty million dollars!_ ); with a quantity ( **more than** enough money); or with things you can count on are after your money ( **more than** two billion money-grubbers), especially **** those with money; that **over** __ should be used strictly for spatial relationships (that steel tycoon **over** there); degree (he is **over** money- grubbing); or countable items not considered individually ( **over** a ton)? This tyranny was surely imposed on us rich by the manied class: those without money. What do _they_ know about numbers? No, by god, I'm **over** rebellious—and I'm not going to be ruled by this self-appointed faux ruling class anymore. I'm going to use **over** with numbers—and ill-use these fauxnies' fauxny rule. Let them fine me **over** a _hundred_ dollars! I can afford it. Look here, Carnegie, I'm **over** 5' 6" in height, **over** sixty-two years of age, and I've been thumbing my purple-hued, rosacea-afflicted nose at the ruling class for well **over** fifteen seconds now. I hereby declare this More-Than Independence Day. By god, I feel **more than** liberated! So much so, you old haggis-munching scoundrel, that I'm not only going to use **over** instead of **more than** with numbers, I'm going to throw caution to well **over** three winds and use **'in excess of'** **in excess of** a hundred or more times—and let the damned chips, so numerously **in excess of** one chip (I know my numbers), fall where they may." "Hoot, mon, you can thoum yer bluid-red couter at the rule and the warld for a' I care. You hae yet to pay me my _four hunder and eighty million dollars_ , __ and the bonnie interest is amoontin' to **over, more than, above, beyond, in excess of** ninety thoosand dollars . . . and coontin.' "

**Always use _each other_ for two, _one another_ for more than two**

****

** **

****

**_Wunnan Other and Each Other_** _team up with their siblings Tommy and Dick Smothers as the Brothers Four._

"Each, when you and I teamed up with Dick and Tommy as the Brothers Four, and they used you two times, and me more than two times, doesn't that mean that at least one time we, Dick, Tommy, and I, without you, were the Brothers _Three_?" "No, Wunnan, because at all times we were there _four_ each other." "Each, we were taught to use **each other** for two (Mom and Dad hugged **each other** ), and **one another** for more than two __ (All of us knew **one another** )?" "Wunnan, come on. It's not as though grammar were _real life_. . . ." 
**  
**

315. Two Brothers Four Each Other, One Another

Stars Dick and Tommy Smothers had two Other

Brothers (Other father but same mother).

Wunnan Other was the elder by

Two years, a little slow ("a blond," you sigh),

Whose signature line (get it off your chest,

Then, Wunnan) was "Mom always liked you best."

He played guitar, Each Other played string bass

And, yes, _superior_ , which (commonplace

Scene) set the stage for sibling rivalry,

Just made to play out on prime-time TV.

Some say these two were really alter egos

Of their Smothers Brothers' prime TVgos,

Since, a few times, they were seen co-starring

On prime time TV, bass and guitaring

When the Smothers, Dick and Tommy, used them

In their Brother act (some say _abused_ them),

Each twice, Wunnan more times to confuse

The viewers. Seems the Smothers knew to **Use**

**_Each Other for two, Wunnan Other for_**

**More than two** shows as, yes, the Brothers Four.

Wunnan may have been every bit as slow as Tommy, but he saw that things added up to something other than they seemed. "Each, tell me; when you and I teamed up with Dick and Tommy as the Brothers Four, and they used you two times, and me more than two times, doesn't that mean that at least one time we, Dick, Tommy and I, without you, were the Brothers _Three_?" "Wunnan, that's only if you take what you see on TV literally, and who does that? Take the Ed Sullivan Show, which millions saw 'live.' Everybody could see Ed was as stiff as a starched collar on a dead man who'd been stiffed all his life, and had finally been paid off in rigor mortis, but everybody went along with the act." "Well now, Each, why do you suppose, then, our schoolmarm taught us to use **each other** for two (Mom and Dad hugged **each other** ), and **one another** for more than two __ (All of us knew **one another** )?" "Wunnan, come on. It's not as though grammar were _real life_. I mean, you couldn't really call being a single, old schoolmarm, who never got to 'two' herself, _living_ , could you?" "No, I guess not—though she was a living testament to 'Spare the pointer and spoil the child.' " "Look, what was real was when we kids used to hide **each others'** lunchboxes, and we two used to punch and kick **one another** , _hard_ , me and you, remember?" "Each, I may be slow but I remember she taught us that it was **each other's** lunch _box_ , and that punching and kicking **each other** hard was what we _two_ did, and **one another** was what _more than two_ did." "Look, Wunnan, don't you remember her saying that while those are _sort_ of worthwhile distinctions to make, in theory, nobody but the most finicky writers, and one Other, bother to make them?" "Well she may have taught you that, but she sure as heck didn't teach _me_ it. But then she always did like you best."
**  
**

**Never split a verb phrase**

****

** **

****

_Out of the woods two strangers came and caught_ ** _Robert Frost_** _splitting verbs in the yard._

"Spring was the mischief in me, and I wondered if I could impishly put a notion in their heads: 'Why is it that you should never split a verb phrase? Isn't it where there are cowards? But here there are no cowards. I am truly convinced I am courageous, and you are falsely persuaded you are brave.' But one woodsplitter, woodenheadedly schooled in the old split-log schoolhouse, said, 'We were taught to split wood before breakfa—' 'Not would be 'fore breakfast,' the other added. 'Split-would fences make bad neighbors' . . . " 
**  
**

316. Not Splitting Verbs Gave Them Two Splitting Headaches

"As I," wrote Robert Frost, "was squarely hitting

Blocks of seasoned oak, was deftly splitting

Each, out of the woods two tramps in mud time

Came to put me off my aim in flood time,

Thinking I had never felt before

The weight of ax-head poised aloft mid-chore,

Had never felt, as they, the grip on earth

Of outspread feet, had never split such girth

Of oak as they had often daily split,

Nor would I ever split the half of it.

"They thought that I should not of rights then play

With what they should be rightly left for pay.

'All right,' I said, 'I yield the separation,

Since you've nimbly split them: a/vocation;

But I've always striven to unite

The two, as my two eyes make one in sight.'

They knew they'd only but to stay their stay

And all their logic, that log-splitting day,

Would fill my head, as if they'd said it strong:

You **Never split a verb phrase**. They were wrong.

"Spring was the mischief in me, and I wondered if I could impishly put a notion in their heads: 'Why is it that you should never split a verb phrase?' I said. 'Isn't it where there are cowards? But here there are no cowards. I am truly convinced I am courageous, and you are falsely persuaded you are brave.' But one woodsplitter who was woodenheadedly schooled in the old split-log schoolhouse said, 'We were well taught to split wood before breakfast—' 'And not would be 'fore breakfast,' the other added.' 'Yes, before we split would be we'd ask to know what we were splitting in or splitting out, and to whom we were like to give offense.' 'A split-would fence at that.' 'Well,' I said, 'a compound verb, or verb phrase, consists of one or more auxiliary verbs plus a bare infinitive or participle. Take "would be split," for good example: you have two auxiliaries, would and be and a past participle split. In the old "wood be . . ." school you were taught that would be split should not be split with an adverb, such as would quickly **** be split or would be **** quickly split.' 'We would heartily **** agre—no, wait, we take that back. We heartily would agree or we would agree heartily. That is the anti-split rule we were inflexibly taugh—or rather we inflexibly were taught, unless, that is, we were taught inflexibly, and that is the rule which, at least by us, has ever since been strictly obeye— _correction._ What we meant to say is has been obeyed ever since strictl—no, wait, strictly ever since **** has been obeye—oh, we have a splitting headache!' 'Yes,' I said, 'I think you get the point: that the adverb coming between one or the other auxiliary verb and the verb or participle is very often the most naturally positioned.' And the blows that I had self-controlledly spared to strike for the common wood, I was then equally splitting between be and the all-important would."
**  
**

**Never write a one-sentence paragraph**

****

** **

****

_Kill Devil Hills, N. C., Dec. 17, 1903:_ ** _Orville Wright_** _, piloting One-Sentence Paragraph 1, makes the first powered flight as brother Wilbur runs after him shouting, **"We did it!"** _

"Oh, no _wonder_ the pilot can't get it to fly!" Wilbur exclaimed, smacking his forehead.

Orville thought, Wilbur's going to damage his internal compass if he keeps that up.

"Some rocket scientist has bolted fore _fathers_ on the thing instead of forefeathers!"

"Wilbur, isn't that what forefathers were designed for: to get the thing off the ground?"

"Yes, but the inherent inflexibility of their Constitution doesn't allow for sudden changes in attitude, so they have a devil of a time maintaining the unwieldy craft in flight." . . .

****
**  
**

317. They Flew the First One-Sentence Paragraph

Young "First Flight" Brothers, Orville, Wilbur Wright,

First starting with a five-foot box-wing kite

They'd built in their Wright Cycle Company,

And took to windy Kitty Hawk, N. C.

(One flight-auspicious dune, Kill Devil Hill;

Their dream of being first to fly their will),

Went on to gliders, then to _Flyer 1_ ,

The powered _Kitty Hawk_. **DESIRE WON!**

A world of fame from Dayton town, Ohio,

Still they dreamed of still more soaring bio:

Dared of getting (their dreams flying high)

Some pompous ass's pompousness to fly

(A single-sentence-paragraph sound bite).

Their hope? **FIRST HEAVIER-THAN-HOT-AIR FLIGH** T.

They ran with it—but it was one flight off.

The press ran too: **WRIGHT CRAFT IS ONE WRIGHT OFF!**

Ted Roosevelt, instead of "Bully!" wrote

Each wrong Wright: "Fly a _plane_ , you fool, but note

This: **NEVER, Wright, a paragraph of just**

**Ass-single sentence**. _That_ craft you can't trust!"

"Wilbur," Orville, the younger Wright, inquired, "what's a one-sentence paragraph?"

Wilbur, engrossed in analyzing plans of the West Wing for aerodynamics, didn't look up.

"Some few words beginning with a Capitol and ending with a period of disappointment."

Orville was accustomed to getting such cryptic answers from his older sibling.

"Is it something like a one-winged parafoil, Wilbur?"

Wilbur was so absorbed that Orville's words went in one air and out the rudder.

"Oh, no _wonder_ the pilot can't get it to fly!" Wilbur exclaimed, smacking his forehead.

Orville thought, Wilbur's going to damage his internal compass if he keeps that up.

"Some rocket scientist has bolted fore _fathers_ on the thing instead of forefeathers!"

"Isn't that what forefathers were designed for: to get the thing off the ground?"

"Yes, but the inherent _inflexibility_ of their Constitution doesn't allow for sudden changes in attitude, so they have a devil of a time maintaining the unwieldy craft in flight."

"But isn't its Bill of Rights designed to knife through all the errordynamics of its ways."

"That it is, Orville—and you know who gets _stuck_ with that large bill, don't you?"

Orville tried to picture the Bill of Rights, but all he could see was a large toucan.

"But, Wilbur, its west-wing pinion feathers; what does the latest pinion poll reveal?"

"It's every official o-pinion runs counter to as many opinions as there are passengers."

"How can that be, Wilbur, I thought passenger opinions were extinct?"

"That just goes to show how little you know about opinionated birds, Orville."

"Teddy says, 'Some fine eagle! Saturday thru Thursday it's _grounded_ in equal rights.' "

"Orville, why should we care as long as the confounded egalitarian flies on Friday?"
**  
**

**Do not use _since_ to mean _because_**

**__**

** **

**__**

_Fitty Cint uses "Since" to mean B. Cos (_ ** _Bill Cosby_** _), and so much more._

"You be tellin' me, B. Cos, that **because** be all there is to that dumb old rule?" "That's right, Fitty. The rule that **since** should refer exclusively to time ( **since** the day you were shot nine times) and **because** should refer exclusively to cause ( **because** you deal in drugs) is all wet. I could have used **since** causally ( **since** you deal in drugs) and correctly made you look the immoral pusher you are. Its use doesn't have to be restricted to time." "I know all about time, B. Cos. I be gettin' nine years for that bum drug rap . . ."
**  
**

318. Two Cents' Worth: Don't Use _Since_ to Mean Because

Bill Cosby, in his black-hot "Pound Cake" speech,

**Because** he was appalled, took pains to preach

To blacks: "It's not what whitey's doing to us;

It's what some blacks _aren't_ doing [BIG black fuss]:

Not parenting, not teaching morals, not

Convincing kids to stay in school, be taught

That 'Where you is?' is ghetting you nowhere,

And ghetting there you've got no ghetto prayer;

Just crime and unwed births and crack cocaine's

Woes." What did Cos then get for all his pains?

Hip hopper Fitty Cint got on his case

And in his face for dissing their black race,

And _mean_ -rapped Cos, **since** Cos had mean-rapped them,

And for his (Cos's) pains chose to condemn

Him, as did Fitty's cousin Twen-E-five

Cint who gave Cos the selfsame mean-rap jive.

**Because** they got their two Cints' worth all hot

Beneath the color, _mean_ , Cos learned **Do not**

**Use Cints to mean B. Cos** **because** , well [pause],

**Because** you _shouldn't_ , well—well just **because**.

"You be meanin' to tell me, B. Cos, that **because** be all there is to that dumb old rule of thumb?" "That's right, Fitty. The rule that **since** should refer exclusively to time ( **since** the day you were shot nine times) and **because** should refer exclusively to cause ( **because** you deal in drugs) is so much hooey. I could have used **since** causally ( **since** you deal in drugs) and correctly made you look every bit the immoral pusher you are. Its use doesn't have to be restricted just to time." "I know all about time, B. Cos. I be gettin' nine years for that bum drug rap. But **since** I served seven months in Shock Incarseration boot camp, I got out in seven." "So you could commit a _worse_ crime." "What you be meanin', B. Cos?" "You just used **since** causally at the start of your last sentence, Fitty." "You just _be sayin'_ I could use it becausally." "But not, as you just did, at the start of a sentence followed by a verb in the _past_ tense ( **Since** I served)." "Why be that a crime, B. Cos?" " **Because** (not **since** ) you created ambiguity in my mind." "Is you be callin' me an ambigot?" " **Since** the term fits, Fitty, yes." "Now _you_ be usin' **since** at the beginnin' of a sentence becausally, B. Cos." "Yes, but followed by a verb in the _present_ tense ( **Since** the term fits), causing no ambiguity." "Now you be makin' me mean. What dis ambiguity is you be speakin' of, B. Cos?" " **Since** you ask, or, to put it another correct causal way, **because** you asked, I'll tell you, Fitty: When you used **since** followed by a past tense verb ( **since** I served seven months) you created ambiguity (doubt) in my mind: Did you mean **Since** (from the time) I served or **Since** (because) I served?" " **Since** I be **** smart, I see dis ambiguity." "You _got_ it, Fitty. You disambiguated (limited to one semantic interpretation) by using **Since** at the start of a sentence followed by a pres—" "Now you be callin' me a _dis_ ambigot, B. Cos?"
**  
**

**Never start a sentence "Hopefully . . ."**

****

** **

****

**_Bob Hopefully and Bing Crossly_** _get in a few holes on the Road to Bally._

"Ironically, Bing, I find myself in a cross bunker, even though it was _you_ who teed off on me." " _Naturally_ , it's because you said, 'Hopefully, the clouds won't open up.' Certainly clouds can't hope or act in a hopeful manner." "Honestly, my purpose, Bing, was to use 'hopefully' as a sentence adverb, an adverb that modifies the entire following clause." "Oddly, I accept sentence adverbs like ironically, naturally, certainly, honestly, but I get my divots crossly out of place over hopefully." "Accordingly, it doesn't make sense . . ."
**  
**

319. He Started "Hopefully"; Then Came the Rain

Bob Hopefully was on the Road to Trouble

With Bing Crossly; Bob began to bubble:

"Hopefully, the clouds won't open up,

Pour down on us before the eighteenth cup,

Bing." Soon as said, with thunderous prelim,

The clouds of Crossly opened up on him,

And _down_ , in one great dampening cascade,

Rained censure on Bob's "Hopefully . . ." parade,

For all its errs—"How hopelessly obtuse!"—

Of sentence adverb. Crossly, Bing let loose:

"Oh what a _dope_ I was—God!—to assent,

Tense though I was, to so golf complement

You, knowing you use 'Hopefully . . .'—a _banner_ ,

Since you don't mean 'in a hopeful manner,'

But 'I hope' or 'It is to be hoped,'

So crassly hopelessly I've never coped,

Or _ever will_ cope with this use—a _fool_

Am I because, when it comes to this rule,

You've never learned, so I can't hope to see,

You **Never start assent tense 'Hopefully** . . .' "

"Ironically, I find myself in a cross bunker," Bob said, "even though it was _you_ , Bing, who teed off—on me." " _Naturally_ ," Bing said Crossly, "it's because you said 'Hopefully, the clouds won't open up.' Certainly clouds, being inanimate objects, can't hope or act in a hopeful manner—even a duffer would know that." "Honestly, my purpose, Bing, was to use 'hopefully' as a sentence adverb, an adverb that modifies the entire following clause rather than a single word in it, and is more concise than 'It is to be hoped that.' " "Oddly, I take cross exception to 'hopefully' used in this sentence adverbial manner. Strangely, I accept such sentence adverbs as ironically, naturally, certainly, honestly, oddly, strangely, but I get my divots crossly out of place over hopefully." "Accordingly, it doesn't seem logical. 'I' wasn't acting in an ironic manner, nor 'it' in a natural manner; 'clouds' aren't certain, nor is 'purpose' honest. And could it possibly be, that, rather than the clause, it is _you_ , Bing Crossly, who is odd and strange. Never mind, I think I know. So if it's okay to say 'Mercifully, the clouds haven't opened up,' in which 'clouds' were not merciful, why can't I say, 'Hopefully, the clouds won't open up'? Logically, Bing, can it be explained, where it's obvious that 'Bing' is not acting logically?" "Admittedly, it's because I'd have to make one more Road movie with you, _Road to Hopefully—It's OK_ , in which I'd have nothing to be cross about when you start a sentence 'Hopefully.' _Unless_ (hope hope) you were to ambiguously say 'Hopefully, I'll go golfing tomorrow, which could mean you will go golfing in a hopeful manner, or you hope you'll go golfing. Obviously, Ski Nose, I have to have _something_ to be cross about. Tragically, I should otherwise have to change my name to Bing Cheerily." "Hopefully, Elephant Ears, it would be a BIG improvement."
**  
**

**Never use first person _I_ or _me_**

****

** **

****

_Pooh Bear does his level best to reattach_ ** _Iyore_** _'s tail as securely as he can._

"Pooh, it's not much of a tail, but I'm sort of attached to it—or it's attached to me—for now." " _Excuse_ me, Iyore, but we here at 100 Aker Wood have another rule—against using first person _I_ or _me._ " "Pooh! but I am not a person, I'm a stuffed donkey—18" tall, 27" long. So why should I not use 'I' or 'me,' I ask?" "Being named _I_ yore, one might have thought you would _see_ that it behooves one to be meek and inglorious." "But I already be hooved. And doesn't 'meek' begin with 'me' and 'inglorious' with 'i'?" . . .
**  
**

320. He Couldn't Bear to Not Use _I_ or _Me_

Poor Iyore, though a donkey stuffed with straw,

Complained to Winnie Pooh Bear when he saw

Him, faulted this Friend Pooh-Bah for his prior

_E_ -yor false pronouncement and not _I_ -yor

"As befits, Pooh, one of my stuffed class,

And not some stuffed shirt widely called an ass.

I'll thank you, Pooh Bear, not to use me so,

So _asininely_ as to make that faux

Paw; after all, you've never heard me stoop

To _once_ , Pooh, pooing you—Winnie the _Poop._ "

Pooh pooh-poohed Iyore, "Why, you stuffed curmudgeon,

You're not stuffed with straw—but with high dudgeon."

Iyore wasn't going to take that guff

From Pooh Bear; he left Pooh in such a huff

(" _Curmudgeon._ Hmmph! Now that's the final straw"),

He ran _Smack!_ into boyish Grand Pooh-Bah

Young Christopher— _Ouch!—_Robin, but before

The lad could mispronounce him, being sore,

And use him as E-badly, Iyore, he,

Brayed, " **NEVER use first person Iyore—me**!"

__

Later, back at Pooh Corner: "Ah, me," Iyore sighed, "I am an old stuffed donkey, that's me. A small _boy_ donkey, at least I was the last time I looked, thanks for noticing me. I am intelligent, quiet, and I keep to myself in the Gloomy Place that Pooh and Piglet built for me. I was even happier when they gave me an empty honey pot and an accidentally burst balloon. I have a favorite food, thistles, which, for some reason, disagree, or disagrees, with me, I'm not sure which. I think food disagrees with me; then again, I think thistles disagree with me. Ah, poor me. Still, one of my very favorite things is when people or animals, but I repeat myself, remember me on my birthday. However, if there's one thing I hate it's someone bouncing me. The biggest problem I have is my tail keeps coming off, and I keep losing it. And whenever someone finds it, he or she sticks it back on me—with a push pin—as if I were one to play 'pin the tail on the donkey' with. I do so like to tail a sentence with a preposition. The second biggest problem I have is that my house keeps falling down, and I am not very good at rebuilding it. I was born on December 25 when Christopher Robin received me for a gift. Those around me are always overlooking me. When they do see me they use me as a beast of burden, especially Rabbit. Ah, me, it's no wonder I am depresse—" " _Excuse_ me, Iyore [it's Pooh], but we here at 100 Aker Wood have another rule—against using first person _I_ or _me._ " "Pooh! but I am not a person, I'm a stuffed donkey—18" tall, 27" long. So why should I not use 'I' or 'me,' I ask?" "Being named _Iyore_ , one might have thought you would _see_ that it behooves one to be meek and inglorious." "But I already be hooved. And besides, doesn't 'meek' begin with 'me' and 'inglorious' with 'i'?" "Oh never mind!" "I never do. But, then again, that's just me."
**  
**

**Never use contractions**

****

** **

****

_Driving through the Nevada desert,_ ** _Clifford Irving_** _picks up a tired old billionaire drifter_.

Drifter wearily: "I will remember this act of kindness." Irving: "Well no wonder you're bushed. If you'd've said, 'I'll remember this act of kindness,' using 'I'll' in place of 'I will,' you'd've saved a whole syllable of vocal energy, and been as frisky as a colt now." "I do not doubt that you are right, but I cannot help it." "That's too obvious, or you'd've said, 'I don't doubt that you're right . . .' " "All my life I have so strictly, long-windedly obeyed the rule _Never use contractions_ that I have totally worn out my lungs (gasp). . . ." 
**  
**

321. He Made Just One Contraction in His Life

Con Clifford Irving hatched a hoax to make

His fortune writing Howard Hughes's fake

Life story. The first dupe he had to gull

That it was autobiographical

Was publisher McGraw-Hill, which, as planned,

Fell hard for three forged letters "in his hand,"

So bought it, this three-quarter–million fiction,

Trusting in the road-to-riches friction

Hughes's auto'd get: great "grabber" traction

On the road to "1" best-seller action.

" _Howard Hughes_ himself behind the weal

(Our publishing well-being)—what a squeal

His bio-fuelled auto's bound to make

—Us _millions_!" But old Hughes himself squealed: _"Fake!"_

The auto then began to slip and slide:

"It's _Irving_ at the weal, and—con!—he's _lied_."

Upon the road, hoax auto had no grip,

No grab. Its weal began a fatal slip

That spelled _The end_ , and Irving's malefactions

Taught __ McGraw-Hill: __**_Never use con-tractions_** _._

Years later, Irving, out of prison, is again behind the wheel, driving through the Nevada desert. He picks up a tired old billionaire drifter. "I will remember this act of kindness," the drifter says wearily. "It's no wonder you're bushed," Irving says. "If you'd've said, 'I'll remember this act of kindness,' using 'I'll' in place of 'I will,' you'd've saved an entire syllable of vocal energy—and been as frisky as a colt now." "I do not doubt that you are right, but it is a long-ingrained habit with me." "That's too obvious, or you'd've said, 'I don't doubt that you're right, but it's a long-ingrained habit with me.' " "I am afraid I just cannot help it. That is what comes of having the rigid rule _Never use contractions_ drummed in, as I have had, since childhood." "Why's that?" "I do not know. They did not give a reason. And, would not you know it? It has worn me out. I am done for." "Can't the doctors do anything? Medicine's come a long way." "They have told me there is no hope. I have so strictly, long-windedly avoided contractions all my life that I have all but worn out my lungs. There is nothing (gasp) they can do for me. Here is my stop. It is the spot I have chosen to crawl off into the desert to die. I am grateful for the lift." "I don't doubt you've made out your will. Yes, you'd've done that, surely." "No, I have not. That is something I am leaving to you. You will have to fake it. I am trusting you to heir yourself a fair inheritance for the good deed you have done me." "How's $150,000,000?" "That is fine, uh . . ." "Oh . . . er . . . uh . . . _Melvin._ Yes, that's it, Melvin Dummar. But call me Mel." "Regrettably I cannot." "And you're . . ." "Howard Hughes. Well, goodbye, Melvin (gasp)." "Goodbye, Howard." " _Wait_ , Melvin. Here is a tip: Fake writing _Melvin and Howard_ , and Richard Gere looking like you (gasp) in _The Hoax._ " "It's a contract, H. H."
**  
**

**Never use _you_ to refer to your reader**

****

** **

****

_You may be surprised to learn, Reader, that in the pre-internet '50s Joe "Trainer of Champions" Weider and_ ** _Marvin "Da Brawnx Biceps" Eder_** _kept in touch via he-male._

"Man, that's _heavy_ , Joe. But _y_ ou _shouldn't_ use **you** in referring to your reader." "Well what do you _suggest_ I use, Mr. High and Mighty, 'Hey, Joe Reader'? And _you_ should talk—Mr. Calling-the-Kettlebell-Black. You, perhaps, will be so good as to tell me why _you_ can use **you** in referring to your reader, which you know is me, Joe, yet you he-male me that I must not." "Joe, If you hadn't been your usual fly-off-the- _dumbbell_ -handle self, you'd have gone on to read, '. . . but it's okay to use **you** when speaking informally . . .' " 
**  
**

322. You Don't Use _You_ Referring to Your Reader

"You gaze upon a legend, strongman/body-

builder Marvin Eder. Read how, God! he

Lifts more iron, pound for rock-hard pound,

Than any iron hoister muscle bound,"

Joe Weider gushed in _Muscle Builder/Power_.

"True genetic freak of the Endower:

Superhuman strength—and muscle mass!

Your Eder, Marvin, he is in a class

All by himself. Of course he'd have been squat

Had I not showed him supersets™, and taught

"Him all the 'Master Blaster' knows, for free,

The 'Trainer of the Champions,' yes, me,

Joe Weider. You, Joe Reader, understand,

Know _I_ took Marvin Eder by the hand,

Endowed him all his muscle, strength you wish you

Had, that _I_ . . ." God read in latest-issue

_Muscle Builder/Power_. He was wroth;

_Thee Master Blaster_ unto Joe did froth:

**_You NEVER_** [he was red, as was Joe Weider]

**_Use 'you' in referring to 'Your Eder.'_**

"Man, that's **_heavy_**!" Marvin he-maled Joe. "But, you know, _Thee_ _Master Blaster's_ right: You _shouldn't_ use **you** in referring to your reader." "Well then what do you _suggest_ I use, you so Mr. High and Mighty," Joe he-maled back, " 'Hey, Joe,' like I'm some 98-lb Jimi Hendrix? And _you_ should talk—Mr. Calling-the-Kettlebell-Black. You, perhaps, will be so good as to tell me why _you_ can use **you** in referring to your reader, which you know is none other than me, Joe _'You, you 98-lb weakling, can gain 14 lb of solid muscle in 14 days'_ Weider, yet you he-male unto me, as if you were God Almighty High on Himself, 'You shouldn't use **you** in referring to your reader.' You can explain yourself, no doubt." "If you'll calm down, I'll try. I can't explain anything to you as long as you're so worked up. You should try working _out_ instead, using (not **you** sing) the Weider Get This Blasted Barbell Off My Chest! Principle™. You shouldn't use **you** because . . . well . . ." "Hah! You _can't_ tell me why you shouldn't use **you** , can you? Admit it: you have more on your 45-lb Weider Barbell plate than you can chew me, the Master Bombaster, out for, haven't you?" "You know, Joe, if you hadn't been your **you** sual Joe-fly-off-the- _dumbbell_ -handle self, you'd have gone on to read: '. . . but it's okay to use **you** when speaking informally, meaning you are using the Weider I Inform You and You Do _All_ the Exercises _In Proper Form_ Principle™; but when speaking formally, meaning you are using the Weider Ultra-Strict Form Principle™—which _no one_ uses today since that long-defunct principle has been superseded by—' " "You mean super _setted—_ the Weider Muscle-Bombing Super _set_ Principl—" " 'by the Weider Cheating Principle™, which, as you know, you trademarked it, means using the Weider I Tacitly Endorse Steroids Princi—' " "Why, you . . . _you . . ._ "
**  
**

**Always use the old dead Latin plural**

****

** **

****

_Victims' rights attorney_ ** _Gloria Old-Dead_** _comforts the latest victim of the "twit supremacists" who have an old dead Latin plural **agenda**. "Twits!_ It's **_agendum_** _._

"Ladies and **bacteria** —yes, that's the old, dead Latin plural for **bacterium** —and we're obliged to keep it alive, even if we are doing all we can to kill _them_. The defendants, the vulgar twits, are on trial for mass murder—the deaths of countless old, dead Latin plurals. They've sworn: 'We owe God a death—and so do the old, dead Latin plurals. So we've killed **crematoria** , favoring **crematoriums**.' These twits suffer from a number of mental **deleria**. If I had my Old-Dead Latin way they'd be locked up in numerous **sanitaria**. . . ."
**  
**

323. She Rested Her Dead Latin Plural Case

_Flash!_ Victim's rights defender, talking head,

And pearlies flasher, Gloria Old-Dead,

Announced today: "I'll _fight_ , let me assure all,

In defense of every Latin plural

That's been victimized by having its

**'a'** plural used—as singular—by twits

Who know small Latin, even _less_ of Greek;

Self-evident when these alleged twits speak

In single lockstep; only witness ' **data**

Is'—it's **dat _um_** is. Don't you just _hate_ a

__

"Twit like that? I swear I'm going to sue

For every plural some twit does that to

—For _millions_! Witness, too, the word **agenda** ,

Plural—yet these twits put on its end a

Plural **s** — **agendas** —plural fake!

Does that not take the double-plural cake?

This bill I've drafted— _ooooh_ , would make them _all_ dead

— _Twits_! Come on, let's—what is it you all dread?—

**Always use the Old-Dead Latin plural**."

[What the **data** shows is mass demurral.]

Scene: the Court of Public Opinion. Gloria Old-Dead is presenting her case celèbre to the all-could-care-less jury: "Ladies and **bacteria** —yes, that's the old, dead Latin plural for **bacterium** —and we're obligated to keep it alive, even if we are doing everything we can to kill _them_. The defendants, alias the twits, are on trial for mass murder—the deaths of countless old, dead Latin plurals. They've sworn, the vulgar twits: 'We owe God a death. Surely the old, dead Latin plurals owe God nothing less, which is why we've disposed of **crematoria** in favor of **crematoriums**.' _Ooooh_ , these twits suffer from such a number of mental **deleria** that if I had my Old-Dead Latin way they'd all be locked up in numerous **sanitaria**. In protest, I flash my pearlies to their several **maxima** in numerous public **fora** on this old, dead Latin plural issue in **auditoria** and **stadia** around Latin America where there is but one singular **agendum,** the **consensus** (try to pluralize _that_ ) always the same: ODLPs are definitely old and dead—but still we should cling to them for dead old-times' sake. And how do the twits of the world respond? They have the singular audacity to give me the **index** finger, delighted to have given me their **indexes** —oh the _Vulgar_ Latin of it all!—when they should have given me their obscene **indices**! Then these twits swear, just as vulgarly, that they have sat through scores of torturous **operas** —when **opera** is already the plural of **opus** —which they promulgate as irrefutable evidence, felonious twits, of a _singular_ **stamina** (plural of **stamen** ), so they should not be found guilty of mass murder since **stamina** is a mass, noncount noun like **air** , **blood** , **** and **water** , and saying **stamina** is, **hypochondria** ( _plural_ of **hypochondrium** ), is, is the same as saying **air** is, **water** is, **blood** is. Ladies and **bacteria** of the jury [ _flash!_ ], I rest my Old-Dead Latin-Plural case."
**  
**

**In a list use _and_ and _or_ but once**

****

** **

****

_Aboard the **Pequod** , peglegged Captain Ahab is hopping mad at the sinking of his best whale boat due to a catastrophic _**_Liszt (Franz)_** _using "'and and oar" just once._

"Call me _Fish_ mael! I 'ave 'ad to rescue Liszt, Queequeg, Fedallah, and lost me best whale boat into the bargain." "Peg your bardon, Captain, I fear you have fallen victim to the old bugbear _In a list use **and** and **or** but once._" "I _know_ I 'ave— _damn_ you! I'll never use Liszt again." "No, _list_. That old hobgoblin had you so fearful of using **and** more than once that you didn't use it _twice_ as you should have: _'All **and** s on deck!_ ****_I've had to rescue Liszt, Queequeg, **and** Fedallah, **and** lost me best whale boat into the bargain_ . . . _'_ " 
**  
**

324. "Oh God," Cried He, "Make and/or Strike Me Lisztless!"

Famed concert pianist Franz Liszt, one whale

Of key success, had strong desire: to sail

Upon a whaling ship. He signed aboard

The _Pequod_ in Nantucket; he implored

Peglegged, scar-faced Captain Ahab, "Do,

I beg you, sir, who'd have your white whale, to

Employ these hands, no strangers to 'Encore!'

To ply the key of sea upon an oar

Of whaling boat, with Queequeg on harpoon,

That, aye, sir, _Moby Dick_ might be your boon."

Well Ahab wanted Moby Dick so badly

He put Liszt in his best whale boat—gladly.

Liszt, his concert hands on oar, assisting,

Ahab cried, " 'Ow badly my boat's _Liszting,_

Not to port or starboard, but to—God!

Avast there!—this is most seafaring _odd_!

The _side that Liszt is on_ —to such degree

—Oh! _sunk_ is my best whaler to the sea.

It's taught me this: on further Moby 'unts

To **In a Liszt use 'and and oar—but _once_**.

"Call me _Fish_ mael!" Captain Ahab spat out as the dripping whalers were fished aboard the _Pequod_. "I 'ave 'ad to rescue Liszt, Queequeg, Fedallah, and lost me best whale boat into the bargain." "Peg your bardon, Captain," Liszt said with all the Freudian precision of a drenched concert pianist. "I fear you have woefully fallen victim to the old bugbear _In a list use **and** and **or** but once._" "I _know_ I 'ave— _damn_ you! I'll never use Liszt again." "No, _list_. That old hobgoblin of a rule had you so fearful of using **and** more than once that you didn't use it _twice_ as you should have." "Eh, come again, Liszt?" "Exactly. You should've said, _All **and** s on deck!_ ****_I have had to rescue Liszt, Queequeg, **and** Fedallah, **and** lost me best whale boat into the bargain._ That first **and** , in concert with the second, would have set your vessel right." "But I 'ad it drummed in—" "Yes, wrongly, for in listing according to the rule, you sail forth with one—and _only_ one— **and** tied behind your back, don't you, Captain?" "Your insolence is insubordinate, disrespectful, **and** 'as put me in ill-'umor." "There you go again. Such heavy-handed indignation requires the use of both **and** s: _Your insolence is insubordinate **and** disrespectful, **and** has put me in ill-humor_." " _You-u_ , Liszt, are going to be keel'auled, flogged within an inch of your life, walked off the plank, 'anged from the yardarm— **or** some pianoist is going to answer for it!" "(Sigh) Now you've got the whole crew whispering, 'The cap'n's only got one **or __** in the water.' You should have said, _You-u, Liszt, are going to be keel'auled, flogged within an inch of your life, walked off the plank_ , _**or** 'anged from the yardarm— **or** someone is going to answer for it!_ You see, Captain, the moral of this fish story is—" "You don't 'ave to tell me. In a list, just whale away at both **and** and **or** till I'm feeling weak **and/or** blissfully _Lisztless_."
**  
**

**Alternatives cannot be more than two**

****

** **

****

**_Tarzan and Jane_** ** __**_at the altar_

" _You big alter ape._ You think you can raise the subject of alternatives with me, then leave me steaming at the alter? Yes, _alter_. Let us two alter natives look at the root word of _alternative_ , shall we? _Alter_ is Latin for 'the other of two,' and purists restrict its use to two. And what am I if not pure—despite your savage intentions to alter me. You say to me, _savage_ that you are, _Jane swing with Tarzan, or not swing with Tarzan; those Jane's two alternatives_ —when that is only _one_ alternative: to swing or to not swing . . ."
**  
**

325. Two, They Had Three Alternatives, or More

Struck, Tarzan of the Apes, a native of

The steamy jungle fell in dative love

With Jane, a native of the concrete jungle.

Ape, he said, "Me Tarzan, you, Jane, fun gal."

" _What_ ," she cried, "you think I'm _fungus_ -like?

If so, you can take one _humongous_ hike!"

He, seeing she was some steamed, didn't falter;

Saw he'd no alternative but alter

Jane for better ( _worse_ , he didn't see),

So he fell, _hard_ , __ upon his trembling knee:

"Me Tarzan want lead Jane [his voice love thick]

To altar—then me alter Jane much quick.

Jane grow, have Boy. Me Tarzan, you Jane, see

We no have choice; be Tarzan, Jane, Boy—three."

_"Three!"_ Jane cried out, "You really _are_ an ape

To think to bend me so all out of shape;

To alter—for the _worse_ —my lovely figure,

Boy! and make us three—or even _bigger_.

You _don't get it_ , __ you great baboon, you,

That **Alter natives can't be more than two**."

Tarzan had been confronted with alter egos before (his own, Lord Greystoke), but Jane's was a breed apart; more like an _altercation_. A lifelong swinger, his native instinct had him reaching out for the nearest escape vine. " _Not so fast_ , alter native," Jane said. "You think you can raise the subject of alternatives with me, then leave me steaming at the alter? Yes, _alter_. Let us two alter natives look at the root word of _alternative_ , shall we? _Alter_ is Latin for 'the other of two,' and purists restrict its use to two. And what am I if not pure—despite your savage intentions to alter me. You say to me, _savage_ that you are, _Jane swing with Tarzan, or not swing with Tarzan; those Jane's two alternatives_ —when that is only _one_ alternative: to swing or to not swing. If you had wanted me to have _two_ alternatives you would have had to grunt, _Jane swing with Tarzan, **and** not swing with Tarzan; those Jane's two alternatives._ My two alternatives would be: to swing and to not swing. But that, according to the purists, is as many savage alternatives as I, Jane, can have. And yet there is another camp in the jungle, a loosey-goosier alternative to that of the purists, in which camp the natives are of the opinion that _alternative_ can mean one of three _or more_ possibilities, as in _Of all the alternatives you proposed, your tenth was by far the most attractiv—_ " "What camp Jane in?" "Jane in the camp of the purists in which there are but _two_ alter natives; that is, until such time as the loud ticking of her biological clock tells her she has but _one_ alternative: _Hurry up!_ and pitch tent in the other camp—or forever remain childles—" "What bi-illogical clock?" "That," Jane alternately coos and cuddles up, "is any one of us _three_ _billion_ alter natives. Which means to be an alter native **and** to be an altar native; those two are my, meaning our, _only_ two alternatives . . . you big love-ape."
**  
**

**_Their_** **is never singular**

****

** **

****

**_Thor Heyerdahl_** _, washing ashore on Theirway, is enthusiastically greeted by singular- **their** Jane Austen who, owing to a Freudian slip of the ear, pronounces him HER-doll. _

"Well hell- _O_ there!" "No, I'm _Thor_ — _you_ 're **Their**." "No I'm not, I'm _here._ " "Er, say, **Their** , **** how does everyone here in **Their** feel about respect? Do **they** like to get it?" "Whoever lives in **Their** , not only likes, **they** _expect_ to get it." "Well everyone will have to take what **they** get—and be _thankful_ **they** got it—won't **they**?" "Well anyone who thinks that had better prepare for **their** raft of trouble, _hadn't_ **they**?" "There there, **Their** , don't get testy. I was just testing you—" "You don't even want to go there, Thor. . . ."
**  
**

326. No Singular _Theirs_ There in Theirway. All Were

Thor Heyerdahl, long single, wished to pair

_A lass_! there was no singular **Their** there

In Thorway, none. Resolved: he must set sail

For **Theirway** ; there the **Their** , the Holy Grail

He sought, he'd find. He built a _papyrus_ raft,

The **_Their_** _Raft_ , and set sail at once. "He's daft!"

Thorwegians laughed. "He'll waterlog—and sink!

And _there_ he'll perish, in the briny drink!"

Thor proved them wrong: he washed up on the shore

Of **Theirway** —and found single **theirs** galore;

And all came from the single mouth and wrist

Of singular **their** one-word **their** apist,

Jane Austen, who soon proved to Thor that she

Had singular **their** s in sufficiency

To _own_ someone; just those out of her airway

Proved the **Their** s there all want to get **their** way,

Just as everywhere they do; and she

Set out to plural Thor—and did: Thor, he

Saw, when she came on singular **their** strong,

That **_Their_ is never singular** . . . for long.

"Well hell- _O_ there!" Jane cooed when Thor washed up on the shores of **Theirway**. "No, I'm _Thor_ — _you_ 're **Their**." "No I'm not, I'm _here._ But that's neither here nor there, Thor. Anybody who'd sail back in time, all the way back to the early 1800s, for a single **Their** has **their** priorities right in my book." "One has **oneself** a book, does **one**?" Thor said, not yet into the singular **their** swing. "Anyone with an ounce of _Pride and Prejudice_ and some _Sense and Sensibility_ has **themselves** a book. Everyone here _loves_ your paper raft. **They** think it's quite the, uh, design." "It looked good on paper. But no one calls it paper; **they** call it _papyrus_." "Well I suppose everyone can make up **their** own mind what **they** want to call it. What do _you_ call it, Thor?" "Anyone knows I call it the **_Their_** _Raft_ , don't **they**." "Ooh, everyone is promised the hereafter, but it's not everyone who gets the **_Their_** _Raft_ er as **their** heavenly reward." "Say, **Their** —you don't mind if I call you **Their** , do you, since you've a pletheira?" "I guess there's no harm in it." "How does everyone here in **Their** feel about respect? Do **they** like to get it?" "Whoever lives here, in **Their** , not only likes, **they** _expect_ to get it." "Well everyone will have to take what **they** get—and be _thankful_ **they** got it—won't **they**?" "Well anyone who thinks that had better prepare for **their** raft of trouble, _hadn't_ **they**?" "There there, **Their** , don't get testy. I was just testing you—" "You don't even want to go there, Thor." " _No_ , not as long as by 'there' you mean _there_ , Grammerica." "I've heard. They say every single **Their** there gets **their** plurality of grief from every native Grammerican. It drives one out of **their** senses." "Er, **Their**?" "Yes, Thor?" "Will you **Theiry** me?" "I thought one would never pop **their** question." "Great! I _love_ , **Their** , that you'll be **Their** for me, while I won't ever have to be **Their** for you."

**Never begin a sentence with _However_ **

****

** **

****

**_However/How ever_** _tycoon_ ** _However Hughes_** _, ever the pedant, communes with heir apparent Mrs. H. (Jean Peters) via heirmail._

" **However** you slice it, Mrs. H., one _may_ begin a sentence with **However** —if it's the right kind of **However** _._ " "And just what, may I ask, is the right kind of **However**?" " **How ever** should I know?—just kidding, dear. I _do_ know. **However** you start a sentence with **However/How ever** , at least when you're as rich as I am, it is just the right kind of **However/How ever** ; **however** , not all **Howevers** are equal. Note how my **however** before last, a small-h **however** , did _not_ start a new sentence after **How ever**. . . ."

327. She Started One Long Sentence with However

However Hughes' old spendthrift habit was

"To spend **however** , **** well . . . well just because

I'm filthy rich with it. If I don't spend

**However** _well_ before my adverb end,

**However** it may come (I could just bawl

I cannot take it with me, after all),

I'll _lose_ it, never getting all the good

Of having my conjunctive adverb should

I want it, being spent, **however** little

Good it does my heart to spend it—it'll

"Be such loss—" " ** _However!_** ["Mrs. Hughes!"]

Have you gone mad? Each time you spend—I _lose_

One more **however**. How, **However** , dare

You spend what's mine—I _am_ your rightful heir

Who'll be, **however** , your inheritress,

**However** doubtful such adverb largesse

Is (one 'life' run-on sentence I began

**'However'** was with one _won't die_ old man).

**However** it's done, **One should not** — _not_ clever—

**_Ever_ start a sentence with _However_**!"

" **However** you slice it, Mrs. H., one _may_ begin a sentence with **However** if, as you and I just did, it's the right kind of **However** _._ " "And just what, may I ask, is the right kind of **However**?" " **How ever** should I know?—just kidding, dear. I _do_ know. **However** you start a sentence with **However/How ever** , at least when you're as rich as I am, it is just the right kind of **However/How ever** ; **however** , not all **Howevers** are created equal. Did you notice how my **however** before last, a meek, self-effacing small-h **however** , did _not_ start a new sentence after **How ever**? No, it waited to be introduced by a semicolon, then went as politely on, humble lower-case conjunctive adverb connecting two independent clauses that it is, to introduce itself to the bedazzling second clause. That **however** , you see, dear, would have been entirely the wrong kind of **however** , the contrasting kind, to start a sentence with. But it's perfectly okay to start one with _But_." "I started _my_ long life sentence with **However** —and what greater contrast could there be than between old you and young me? So what's wrong with starting a sentence with **However** —not that I don't know?" "Why, not a thing, dear, as long as it's the 'in whatever way' or 'to whatever extent' **However** , and not the contrasting **However** that we who are so discerning about **However** s frown upo—" " **How _ever_** could I have married such an old, _undying_ pedant as you, however filthy rich you are! You just won't let a rule be unruly, will you?" "As a Rule of Thumb, dear, no. You see, that last sentence of yours starting ' **How _ever_** ,' a most emphatic one I might add, was really just another way of saying **_How_** _could I **ever** have married such . . . ,_ and is quite above reproach." " ** _However_** _Hug—_ " "Yes, that **_However_** is perfectly fine, too, dear, if you overlook, as I'm sure you have, his money eccentricities."
**  
**

**Saxon words are superior**

****

** **

****

_Having hoisted old high Saxon EISENGUSS (cast iron) overhead,_ ** _Arthur Saxon_** _looks on as fellow Saxon Eugen Sandow hoists Anglo-Saxon CAST IRON overhead._

"Sandow—uh-h-h-UNGH!—if we keep this up we'll both bust a **belly** (not _abdomen_ )." "You're right, Saxon. Here's a **heavy** (not _ponderosity_ ) —ur-r-r-r-r-RUH! You and I both are Germanic **Saxons** —without an ounce of _Romance_ (Italian, Portuguese, Spanish, Romanian, or French) in our bodies, **right**?" " _Correct_ —I mean **true**!" "Well, why don't you and I put our **strong things** (not _muscles_ —too _Romantic_ ) together to **up** (not _exalt_ ) **'Sax'** above _Romance_?" " **Yes** (not _affirmative_ ), that would be **better** (not _improved_ ). . . ."
**  
**

328. Each Claimed, "My Saxon is Superior"

Once, brawny old-time strongman Arthur Saxon

Challenged Eugen Sandow, mythic flaxen

Anglo-Saxon bodybuilder/strongman,

To a contest—one of words. The _wrong_ man!

Saxon: "Sandow, I can hoist a _lot_

More Saxon words than you—you can't lift _squat_

Compared to me." At that he twirled his waxen

Long mustachios did strongman Saxon,

Adding, "Sandow, I've the Saxon gift

Of gab no _Anglo_ -Saxon can outlift."

The flaxen-haired one bounded on the stage

With all his Anglo-Saxon verbiage

In answer to the challenge. Saxon hoisted

**Eisenguss** above his head. "You've foisted

_Saxon_ —old High German—on me!" Sandow

Cried. "You've tricked me with your Saxon—and how!"

He then threw **cast iron** overhead.

Now Saxon cried, his face the fiery red

Of molten **Eisenguss**. Both, muscle-sore,

Claimed " **Saxon words** — _mine_ — **are superior**!"

The two went at this "Superior Saxon" oneupmanship until, tiring, the waxen Saxon said to the flaxen Saxon, "Look, Sandow—uh-h-h-UNGH!—if we keep this up we'll both of us bust a **belly** (not _abdomen_ )." "You're right, Saxon. Here's a **heavy** (not _ponderosity_ ) —ur-r-r-r-r-RUH! You and I both are Germanic **Saxons** —without an ounce of _Romance_ (Italian, Portuguese, Spanish, Romanian, or French) in our bodies, **right**?" " _Correct_ —I mean **true**!" "Well, why don't you and I put our **strong things** (not _muscles_ —that would be just too _Romantic_ ) together to **up** (not _exalt_ ) **'Sax'** high above _Romance_?" " **Yes** (not _affirmative_ ), that would be **better** (not _improved_ ). So let us **show** (not _demonstrate_ ) our **manhood** (not _virility_ ) in this **way** (not _modus operandi_ ). Here, I'll start by **heaving** (not _elevating_ ) **love** — _OOF!_ —high above _amor_." "Hmmph! I **see** (not _notice_ ) that you **began** (not _commenced_ ) with the **light** (not _imponderous_ ) word. **** Watch me **toss** (not _catapult_ ) **birdlore** high above ****_ornithology_ without so much as one **loud breath** (not _exhalation_ )." "Hah! that's nothing. Watch me **lift** (not _erect_ ) **foreword** above _preface_ **** and **bodeful** way over _ominous._ " "Child's play! Watch me throw **forebear** high above _ancestor_ and toss **belittle** way way over _depreciate_ , __**and so on and so on** (not _et cetera, et cetera_ )." "Right, who cares, flaxen Saxon, if, in **hefting** (not _elevating_ ) **Sax** high above _Romance_ , we limit ourselves to but a handful of **Sax** words (many but four letters), rejecting tons and tons of highly useful _Romance_ words, which many **womenly folk** (not _feminine persons_ ) **swear** (not _asseverate_ ) **HEIGHTEN** (not _escalate_ ) the **Sax**?" "Not I, waxen Saxon. Knowing that **Sax** words are far superior to _Romance_ wor—" " **HALT!** (not _discontinue_ )." "What?" " _Superior_ is Latin." "That is most _indisputable_ —I mean **true**. **Never mind** (not _ignore_ )."
**  
**

**Foreign words should always be pronounced**

**as foreigners pronounce them**

****

** **

****

_Xenophobes are right: four runners (_ ** _Bernie Sanders, Donald Trump, Ted Cruz, Hillary Clinton_** _) are rapidly overrunning the country._

"Believe me, I'll build a Yuge wall along the border with **_May_** _-he-co_ to keep **_Hwan_** and _Hwan- **ee** -ta_ out." "Donald, you mean **_Mex_** _-i-co_ , to keep **_Wonn_** and _Wonn- **ee** -ta_ out," "Look, Bernie, the Donald and I have been to _Par- **ee**_ , _**Fronce**_ , stayed in _o- **tels**_ , ordered _oat kwi- **zeen**_ , said **_bong_** _a-puh- **tee**_ —and we know our foreign pronunciations." "For your bong **_up_** _-pi-ty_ foreign info, Tod—" _"TED"_ "I've been to Russia where they carry out a lot of **_po_** _-groms._ " " ** _Po_** _-litically incorrect_ , Hillary. They're pronounced _puh- **groms**_ ' . . ."
**  
**

329. Say Foreign Words As Four Runners Pronounce Them

Four runners in the '16 White House race

Are hell bent, each, to set the winning pace

(To get a leg up on the competition,

All four start out in the pol position).

Donald, Bernie, Ted, and Hillary

Each run, God, just as hard as _hard_ can be.

And just as you'd expect in old Race Towne,

Each runs so hard each runs the others down,

And all with same four run words you can quote,

No matter what they say: "Give _me_ your vote!"

Each, with each step upon their _four-year_ run,

Pronouncedly huffs, "Voters, **_I'm_** __ the one

To run the show," pronouncing all the rest,

With same four run words, " _Rotten_ for the West!"

It's funny how "Give _me_ your vote!" should sound

Like " _Rotten_ for the West [Wing]!" as eight pound

Each other, and it only goes to show

All runners in the pol position know

That **Four run words should always** [ _trash, denounce_ them!]

**Be pronounced as four runners pronounce them**.

Republicans Donald Trump and Ted Cruz, ultra-conservatives, are adamant: _"Foreign words should always be pronounced as foreigners pronounce them."_ Democrats Bernie Sanders and Hillary Clinton, ultra-liberals, are wide open to pronouncing foreign words with the most liberal abandon. Donald swears, "I'll build a yuge wall along the border with **_May_** _-he-co_ to keep **_Hwan_** and _Hwan- **ee** -ta_ out." "You mean **_Mex_** _-i-co_ , to keep **_Wonn_** and _Wonn- **ee** -ta_ out," Bernie left wings it. "Look," Ted says, right indignant, "the Donald and I have been to _Par- **ee**_ , _**Fronce**_ , stayed in _o- **tels**_ , ordered _oat kwi- **zeen**_ , said **_bong_** _a-puh- **tee**_ —and we know our foreign pronunciations." Hillary parries, "For your bong **_up_** _-pi-ty_ foreign info, Tod—" _"TED"_ "I've just flown in from Russia where they carry out a lot of **_po_** _-groms._ " "That's **_po_** _-rridge_ ," the Donald bristles; "such official organized massacres of a minority group, like the Jews, are correctly pronounced _puh- **groms**._' " "Speaking of the Zionists," Hillary retorts, "this phlegmatic tribe have an expression, _L'chayim_ , meaning 'to your health,' which they grossly pronounce _le- **khy** -im_—as if coughing up the phlegm of a thousand matzo balls—whereas Bernie and I liberally say _le- **hi** -im._" "Well, for your 'untrustworthy' info," Ted rankles, "you can 'TrusTed' when I say I'm just enough of a hotshot Princeton debater to pronouncedly part hairs over—" "Yes, _a- **par-** thide_," Hillary steams. "Look," the Donald rightly snaps, "it's correctly, _foreignly_ pronounced _a- **part** -hite_." "Well it all depends on what the meaning of the word 'ISIS,' pronounced **_iz-iz_** , is, and I, **_Hil_** _-a ree_ , __ know rank socialist Bernie backs me on that." " ** _Hell_** _-a-ree I do!_ When you put on your lying 'champion of women' airs of being the first woman president, a pretension foreign to our **_man_** _-ly_ interests, we three rightly pronounce you _Hil- **air** -ee-us_."
**  
**

**Never end a sentence with a preposition**

****

** **

****

_Her sentence in Sing Sing ended,_ ** _Con E. Francis_** _, jailbird turned songbird once more, joyfully set to begin a new life, fatally propositions the turnkey._

"O God! _Why_ in your name didn't you put it in stone, like all your other _Thou shalt nots: A proposition is the ONE thing a Con must never end a sentence **with**_? I'm breaking in __ a brand new broken heart—and _who's sorry now_ that that cold stone is just what you didn't carve it, oh so deeply, **in**? 'It is _I_ '; 'It's _me_ '—oh, God, which do I choose **between**? _What_ did you let me do such a dumb thing **for**? _Why_ in Heaven's name didn't you strike me dumb till I was on the _other_ side of the gate to freedom I was about to pass **through**?. . ."
**  
**

330a. Too Late She Learned _Don't End a Sentence With . . ._

A con, time served ( _Soon, my release from stir!_ ),

Of glad heart trilled, "Good key-to-freedom sir,

If kindly you'll unlock this caged-bird gate,

I'll, Con E. Francis, fly this penned-up state

No jailbird but a _songbird_ once more—too,

I promise you'll not see me here anew

— _Tra la!_ What say you, kind sir, would you be

So gracious," sang the songbird releasee,

In high voice for her ( _Soon now!_ ) readmission

( _Life!_ ), "as to accept my proposition?"

She no sooner trilled these fateful words

Than shrill alarm screamed (undiminished thirds);

Ten guards pounced on her, silenced the canary,

Threw her, songless, into solitary

_Life!_ confinement. Sadly, the reformed

Bird, Con E. Francis, lifesong-uniformed,

Had, in her ( _Joy—soon I'll be free!_ ) locutions,

Broken the strict penal institution's

No. 1 rule: **_Never_** [ _"LIFE punition!"_ ]

**End a sentence with a proposition**.

"O God, _God!_ " Con E. wept bitterly on the cold hard floor of solitary. " _Why_ in your name didn't you put it in stone—like all your other _Thou shalt nots: A proposition is the ONE thing a Con must never end a sentence **with**_? I'm breaking in __ a brand new broken heart—and _who's sorry now_ that that cold stone is just what you didn't carve it, oh so deeply, **in**? 'It is _I_ '; 'It's _me_ '—oh, God, which do I choose **between**? _What_ did you let me do such a dumb thing **for**? _Why_ in Heaven's name didn't you strike me dumb till I was on the _other_ side of the gate to freedom I was about to pass **through**? This cold prison I was almost **out of**? This _women's_ 'correctional' facility where the boys are _not_ **within**? On the wrong side of these walls that happiness lies so tantalizingly close to, yet so _far_ **beyond**? You know (did _you_ yourself not give me life?) that my heart has a mind of its own, and can't for long be kept **down**. You could so easily have struck it dumb, and kept me out of the 'hole' my _life_ has been, so forlornly, tossed **into**. But what are my tears, the tears of a caged canary who will nevermore sing or fly, to care **about**? **** What is one broken heart to trouble yourself **over**? It is my suffering, the suffering of a sinner, you are **after**. _Suffer the little sinners to come unto me that they might suffer after death like unto **before**._ So you pre-position my end by putting prepositions in my mouth that I must not end my sentences **with**. What is my life but a thing to throw the book **at**? Yes, everybody's someGody's fool, and there are no exceptions to the rule, this one **not excepting**. And that is something that I just can't get **up for** , **into** , **off on** , **over** , **by** , **above** , **beyond** , **past** , **through** , **behind** , **aboard** , **astride of** , **around** , **out from under** , **on top of** , **_before_ , throughout, but, during, about near towards _down upon_** , **besides against, like after**."
**  
**

**Never end a sentence with a preposition**

****

** **

****

_Sentenced to Camp Cupcake for lying to the Feds,_ ** _Martha Stewart_** _, treated to the complimentary perp walk, worries about lying with all the others._

"They threw Con E. into the hole for life on her propositional **behind**. Now they've coldly thrown me, the Domestic Diva, into the hole on my prep-positional **_'But! . . .'_** They threw the book at me **notwithstanding**. They booked me for lying to feds **before**. **** They booked me into Camp Cupcake **after**. **** I could show them how to make a Cupcake— _one less_ high in incarcinogyns **throughout**. Con E. erred bigtime, but I'm a _multimillion-err_ , __ money times **over**. Let the many talk; many are the things money talks **above**. ****. . ."
**  
**

330b. Her Sentence Ended with _a_ Preposition

Poor Martha Stewart, sentenced to Camp Cupcake

(She'd got the insider-trading uptake,

Dumped her ImClone, added _lies_ [one cup],

A recipe just made for feds "Fed up!"),

Began her sentence with a Capitol

Offense (no lower-case claptrap at all).

"Five months!—at twelve to forty cents an hour!

_Served_ —thank God! The cream, I'm five months sour;

Oh, but I'm _prepared_ —I need no match,

I'm so fired up—to make it _right_ from scratch.

"I'm set to step back into Hamptons clover,

Recipe for starting life all over

In my head— _one_ gate to go! I've squared

My debt. Gatekeeper, I am _so_ prepared

To start again, positioned, new prep job,

To end my sentence with a—yes, by God,

I'm going to _make it—LIFE—_ I'm moving on!"

"That's right! Your sentence _will_ end in _'LIFE'_ —con!

**Don't EVER** [and he laid the prohibish on]

**End a sentence with a prep-posish 'on'**!"

"They threw Con E. into the hole for life on her propositional **behind**. And now they've coldly thrown me, the Domestic Diva, into the hole on my prep-positional **_'But! . . .'_** They threw the book at me **notwithstanding**. First, they booked me for lying to the feds **before**. **** Then they booked me into Camp Cupcake **after**. **** I could have shown them how to make a Cupcake— _one less_ high in incarcinogyns **throughout**. Next they threw the book at me for ending my sentence with a prep-posish **'on** , **'** and prep-walked me. Finally, Ms. Spinster threw the book at me—when I was **down** : 'Yes, I'll have a Déjà Rule that will serve _billions—_ and be déjà review over and **over**.' As if I were some cheesy McDonalds you see **around**. In a past life I was close to the Donald, until he said to me, 'Compared to my _Apprentice_ , yours is a dog's breakfast **alongside**.' _I_ could show him how to make a dog's breakfast—and fix his felony _combover_ , for God's sake, **besides**. I look nothing like him on the **outside**. Yet incarcinogyns say I look a lot like him on the **inside**. Songbird Con E., already songbooked for moldy oldies, and rightly sentenced to Sing Sing, failed bigtime to illustrate the first Rule of Thumb _NEVER end a sentence with a preposition_ (breaking its own rule by ending with **_a preposition_** ). Some Con! She ended her sentence with _thirty-five_ , compound ones **not excepting**! So Ms. Spinster saw fits to have me end my sentence, a Cupcake walk, with **_a_ preposition**. **** Con E. erred bigtime, but I'm a _multimillion-err_ , __ money times **over**. (Let the many talk; many are the things money talks **above**.) Wisely, Ms. Spinster saw that since I was a one-time college preppie turned collared 'preppie,' I was the ideal one to throw the book **at**. Furthermore, since I was given but _one_ prep posish on the food line for _life_ , well, who was better pre-positioned than I to end a book __**with**?"

45. Commencement Change of Address

** **

And I _would_ have ended it there, too, my novelly educated darlings, so perfectly fitting was it and all, but for one stupid thing (I _never_ learn)—and it moved me. You see, when I commenced addressing you your first day, the blessed Omnibus having just fetched your precious empty-noodled selves to me, I was, of course, addressing the commencement of your education. But now that I have so foolishly _completed_ filling your little noodles with all the Novel Rules you can't ever forget, plus all the Novel Rules of Thumb that you all now love to thumb your darling little knowses at, when I might have held _one_ back with which to hold you longer, if only for a moment, I am all the deeper moved to address you on your commencement of life. Yes, _life_ ; you've heard of it: that ever so promising thing that commences happening to you, and you commence living, the moment you leave ( _oh don't!_ ) an empty room and an emptier schoolmarm behind. But does it ever occur to one lifeless Humpty Dumpty School to address you on so crucial a commencement as that? Not on your precious, happiest of lives to come. But all the king's wild horses didn't drag me here this saddest of sad mornings—did I mention that it's but a single "you," meaning "me," away from _mourning_?—to address a lot of eggheaded Humpty Dumptys.

_Graduates._ Yes, it is just the most lovely word to your ears, I know; and, if it didn't make me so unbearably sad, I could maybe learn to love it, too—no I couldn't either, who am I kidding? You came to **Ms. Spinster's** to learn—and _how_ you have learned! In th—what's that? Yes, that's right, _in the most novelest way._ And I was just going to say that, sort of, wasn't I? There there, Learner, darling, pay me no mind; that was a good—no, the _perfect_ answer all the same, and you _are_ the teacher's pet for saying it. But where was I now on a scale of one too tender? Oh, yes, on the most darling of little kinderfeet, and one bursting heart that was at them, you loudly stole into Room 101, the munchkin lot of you, the most ungrammatical, dearest Omnibusload of fresh-faced learnniks ever. And you've yet to give me back my heart. And from the very first _cr-r-r-ACK!_ you listened, you read, you _learned_ , __ and, in the end, did an Olde School schoolmarm proud, for which each darling one of you shall forever be, in her tired and teary eyes, the blest and eternal head _angel_.

And so, class of _Oh, you are leaving!_ in these few precious moments before you get up from your desks for the last time ( _don't leave!_ ), throw your joyous treble voices in the air, and, hopefully clutching your rosy little futures, run ( _don't run!_ ) out of Room 101 for the __ last __ time (how many grieving times must I tell you, _"Don't say 'the last time'!"_?); now, oh, now, before, sadly, the Omnibus departs, taking you all on your glorious journey into life, and from me ( _don't go!_ ), only stay that I may address you with these three simple words from the heart; it will cost you little, yet afford me everything: _Return to Sender._ Here, let me tenderly stamp it on each of your cheeks with indelible affection, so that wherever life takes you, should you ever wish, when school days come fondly flooding back, to pop your wistful little noodles into Room 101, if only to hear the old familiar squeak of the chalk upon the blackboard, punctuated at regular intervals by the lightning _cr-r-r-ACK!_ of the pointer, even as one careworn boot strikes the ever-deepening bottom of the depression with the old, accustomed window-rattling, desk-shifting stomp, you will not fail (say you won't!) to _Return to Sender._ And should you ever wish, so dearly, at any cherished time, to turn around and show an old spinster bursting with pride and gratitude the polished ladies, the refined gentlemen, the hopes of the future brilliantly realized that you have so heartwarmingly made of your all-grown-up selves, I implore, I beseech you, _Return to Sender_.

Oh, but above all, my graduated darlings, promise me—won't you say you promise me?—that, should you ever wish merely to look in on, and inquire (so touchingly) after one who, at the time, may have seemed to you the hardest of the hard, and yet held, and will forever hold you ever so dearly in the softest spot of her heart of hearts, please—oh _please_ —just sing out to the driver, in whose spirit I reside—what? Yes, she does look a little like me—okay, a lot—in the most beautifully melodious of voices (as if one could be less), _"Return to Sender."_ Be assured that your blest delivery will be all the proof of purchase necessary to show that the return postage has long since been prepaid, countless times over. And I know I can count on you to provide the many-back guarantee. Won't you tell me I can? So what have you got to lose but an old spinster schoolmarm whose like, with her singular Olde School passing, will be seen and heard no more; who is, at long last, nearing the end of her commencement? (Oh, if _only_ in my end might be my beginning!)

But such dreams, life's sweetest, are, for some, never to be.

And so, my dear, departing lifers, my address to you, sadly, is at an end. Go on—go on with you now. Take your parting looks around Room 101; bid your heartbreaking adieus to it and all that it embodies, and which, with your leaving, will have no reason to exist. Now, turn and walk ( _don't run! oh PLEASE don't run!_ ) out its lamentable two-way door. Look straight ahead and commence your oh-so-promising lives— _no_ , don't look back! lest, for the unending deluge of tears, I should turn into a pillar not worth its own salt for being incapable of supporting the overwhelming emptiness inside. Yes, I am moved . . . to tears, for the saddest of sad changes of my address. And yet, for the life of me (if the nothingness that remains to an old spinster schoolmarm in an empty schoolroom can be called living) I _cannot_ change my address to the Humpty Dumptys. Since their common address (one's sighs fit all) remains, as ever, One, Oh One _Tedious_ Way, my address to them remains the same as every year: "For the love of God's most blessed children— _lighten up_!"

Oh but, darlings, before you go (anything to keep you just a moment longer), do be so kind as to allow me, now that I have addressed you and the eggheaded Humpty Dumptys, to convey a word or two to the head of our beloved US(PS), to whom an address has been owed for so long, for so very long:

Dear Princemaster General:

By now it will have come to you how expressly I have played, not just by some but by _all_ the rules respecting delivery of the male. Having been, my entire awaiting–Prince Charming life, a most conscientious addresser, and desiring to be all the more responsible an addressee, how it must have made your civil-servant day when you saw how good, how letter perfect it was of me to notify you, promptly, of my Commencement Change of Address: one oh one _lonely_ Ms. Spinster's Way; and how it must have warmed your bureaucratic facsimile of a heart, through the years, to see how I always took the most exquisite care to use the obligatory numerical _posthaste_ to give each heartfelt Ms.ive the achingly desired zip on each _single_ post. Surely it afforded you the most profound of what has to pass, in you, for pleasure to see that, on every one, I duly affixed, in addition to my crucial return address, the traditional diamond-anniversary Spinster Stomp: a high lace boot symbolically striking the bottom of an ever-deepening depression. And, considering it has been my long-standing request, _these many years_ , to be royally loved by no less than a first-class blue-blooded Prince; and expressly because your motto, _The royal male must go through_ , and all the more your official slogan, _Neither_ _rain nor snow nor hail nor sleet / Shall prove one Spinster's Prince defeat_ , seem to hint, not a little unavowedly, at delivery, might I not, _now_ , have every expectation that you, the Princemaster General of the _Uniting_ Service (Prince–Spinster), will see to its long-overdue forwarding—and _finally_ deliver my first-class blue-blooded male bearing the traditional diamond—though I may never see its anniversary?

Oh, and there's the "You have mail" ding-a-ling now:

**Princemaster General's Return Address**

"Ms. Spinster:

How sad your Commencement Change

Of Address is now in the _lonely_ range

Of 101 Ms. Spinster's Way. _So_ sad!

From one, oh one poor single life—to _bad_ :

Your old Commencement Address now does not

Match your new sadder, lonelier love lot.

I'm loath to make you sadder, yet I must

Say, your requested maling just came bust:

The handsome prince we just maled out to you

Was hopelessly confused between the two

"Addresses, and some royally put out

He'd been _subjected_ to such blueblood doubt,

And had stamped on his princely forehead this:

_Return to Sender—_ shame you had to miss

Him! He was _first-class_ , looking forward to

Commencing a new royal line with you.

We cannot male him back again (regrets);

Our Maling Rule is this: A spinster gets,

Per life, _one_ single first-class maling. Yes,

If _only_ you had not changed your address."

M.S.P.S.—Oh, darlings, it seems ages now since the Princemaster General commenced addressing me, and I'll give him this much: it _was_ a change. I only wish I could say now, in appending this glummest of postscripts, that his "per life, _one_ single first-class maling" rule was a pleasant change. I can assure him it's one I won't ever forget! You have no doubt gathered by now that I wasn't much taken with it. Some of you will have gotten so far ahead of me as to infer (not _imply_ ) that I wasn't taken at all. But you can't hear me now.

Oh, God! It seems an empty lifetime ago now that I stood watching until, in the far downhill (downheartening) distance, the last soul-wrenching glimpse of the rapidly departing Omnibus ( ** _don't run!_** ) disappeared, cruelly quitting my anguished sight. Yet still, as every year, my eyes were fixed upon "the spot" (it was all I had), only turning away, being turned away, when, though my eyes fought it at every daylight-stealing turn, Darkness took even that, saying in effect: "There there, dear, you can't see anything now. Go along with you, there's a despondent girl. I'll watch over it for you. You'll see; it will still be there come dawn . . . and the next . . . and the next . . . and the next . . .

" _Then_ , __ one far-off morning, having stood watching, as every morning, from the first dim intimations of dawn, you _will_ see the heaven-sent vehicle flooding the spot in holy light anew—and how your heart will _leap_ , your pulse _race_ in wild anticipation of its precious, ungrammatically prattling cargo! Though your tearlogged boots will then be at maximum gravity, in that instant of recognition their crushing heaviness will fall away, a forgotten relic of the forlorn past; only the lingering salt stains will testify to what record depths of despair they had, for so long, been plunged. But you'll be able to _live_ with that, won't you? Yes, because it will be one gloriously brand new _first-day-of-the-school-year morn_. Accordingly—no, _accordionly_ , for the now-radiant skies will be filled with the sweetest of music—without for a moment taking your eyes off the long-awaited-and-dreamed-of vision, you will elatedly lift your right boot out of its too-deep depression to the delirious height of a foot walking on air, jubilantly arrest its upward motion, exuberantly reverse its direction, then ever so joyously send it back down to strike bottom resoundingly, only wanting some too-long-idle windows and desks to rattle and shift. In concert, following the most gay-hearted volley of warmup thrusts and parries, your pointer will once again come down like late Mississippi lightning, only lacking its sizzling _cr-r-r-ACK!_ for want of a front-and-center school desk to strike. You will repeat these time-honored rituals over and over again, and, as your old, accustomed strength and stamina return, with ever-increasing force and authority. Your nerve impulses, wild with ecstasy at being rushed into service once more, will leap madly back and forth across the broad synaptic gaps in ever more impulsive quantum leaps, putting your reflexes through their paces, honing them closer, ever closer to the desired praying mantis speed. At the same time, you will be tirelessly, ecstatically running through your stock repertoire of mock remonstrances, faux disappointments, and see-through disciplinary bluffs, so that when the Omnibus (oh most _beautiful_ sight for sore eyes!) heaves into _life_ -size view, pulls in at 101 (no longer lonely) Ms. Spinster's Way, and ever so bounteously disgorges another year's mother lode of the great unschooled, all tittering and chattering away in the most ungrammatical treble symphonies of music to your ears ever, you will be ready for them— _oh_ , you will be ready. And that, dear, you'll see, will be just the auspicious, rapturous, angelic—did I mention treble?—note you will have been looking for, praying for, to end a book on."
**  
**

46. Index of Grammatis Personae

**Note: the following links are one-way. To return, use your ereader's back function. See** **A Brief Travel Guide**.

**Abbott, Bud**

**Abe**

**Abner, Li'l**

**Achilles**

**Active, Hoyt**

**Adam**

**Agasseed, André**

**Ahab, Captain**

**Alice in Wonderland**

**Alpert, Richard**

**al-Zarqawi, Abu Musobbing**

**Andon . . . , Irunon**

**Animals, the**

**Annan, Kofi**

**Anne, Sister**

**Antoinette, Marie**

**Antony**

**Apperson, Lee**

**Appos, Narcissus and Sophie**

**Arafat, Yasser**

**with Barak and Clinton**

**with Begin and Hussein**

**Arbuckle, Fatty**

**Arnaz, Desi**

**Arthur, King**

**Atta, Mohamed**

**Attila the Hon**

**Austen, Jane**

**Baba Ram Dass**

**Baden-Powell, Lord**

**Bailey, F. Lie**

**_Baldwin, Italex_**

**Ball, Lucille**

**Barak, Ehud**

**Barbie and Ken**

**Barker, Arthur, Freddie, Herman, Lloyd, Ma**

**Barris, George**

**Bean, Judge Roy**

**Beaut-Low, Clause von**

**Bee, Aunt**

**been Laden, Ofsame**

**Beery, Noah and Wallace**

**Begin, Menachem**

**Beliezebub**

**Bell, Alexander Graham**

**Berra, Yogi**

**Bhutt, Andor**

**Big Bad Wolf, the**

**B-I-G, the Notorious**

**Blackbeard (Teach, Captain Edward)**

**Blassphemous, Bill**

**Bobbie**

**Bodhidharma**

**Boswell, James**

**Bow, Clara**

**Brahma**

**Brontë, Charlotte and Emily**

**Brown, James**

**Brown, Myra Gale**

**Bullet**

**Bunker, Chang and Eng**

**Burdon, Eric**

**Bush, Barbara, Dubya, Jenna**

**Bush, Dubya**

**with Rumsfeld**

**with Shy-rac and Franks**

**Butler, Rhett**

**Byron, Lord**

****

**C. J.**

**Caesar, Augustus**

**_Caesar, Julius_**

**Callous, Maria**

**Campbell, Glen**

**Can't, Sir! Lung**

**Carnegie, Andrew**

**Carter, Jimmy**

**Catherine and Heathcliff**

**Cave-it, Dick**

**Chan, Jackie**

**Chandler, Chas**

**Chanel, Coco**

**Chaney, Co-Lon, Lon**

**Chang and Eng**

**Channing, "Stockmarket"**

**Charles the Wise, King**

**Chaucer, Geoffrey**

**Chauvin, Nicolas**

**Chava**

**Chicken Hawk, Henry**

**Chicken Little**

**Child, Julia**

**Christ, Jesus**

**with the multitudes**

**with Cologne Ranger**

**with Max and God**

**Christmas, Father and Mother**

**Chung, Johnny**

**Churchill, Winston and Clementine**

**Cint, Fitty, Twen-E-five**

**Clanger, Ma and Pa**

**Clark, Marcia**

**Claus,**

**Mama and Papa**

**Père Santa and Mrs.**

**Santa and Samantha**

**Solo**

**Zantac and Mrs.**

**Clausius, I.**

**Clauz, Andro**

**Clawse, Ma and Pa**

**Clay, Cautious**

**Cleese, John**

**Cleopatra**

**Clinton**

**Bill and Hillary**

**Bill with Barak and Arafat**

**Hillary with Trump, Sanders, and Cruz**

**Clue-So, Inspector**

**Cologne Ranger, the**

**Comaneci, Nadia**

**Cosby, Bill**

**Costello, Lou**

**Count of Nounte Cristo, the**

**Cow, Declarabelle**

**Coyote, Wile E. and Wile Hemina**

**Crabbe, Buster**

**Crossly, Bing**

**Cruz, Ted**

**Curie, Pierre and Madame**

**Cybele**

****

**Daisy Mae and Li'l Abner**

**Dash, John E.**

**Davis Jr., Same**

**Davis, Jefferson and Mrs.**

**Dawes, William**

**Demosthenes**

**Devi, Indira**

**Dick and Jane**

**Dickens, Charles**

**Diesel, Rudolph and Martha**

**Donahue, Phil**

**Donnell, Neolo**

**Do-rite-by-me, Ms.**

**Double Agent Oh-oh!7**

**Dracula, Count**

**Dukakis, Governor**

**Dumas fils, Alexandre**

**Dumont, Margaret**

**_Dumas, Italixandre_**

**Dumas père, Alexandre**

**Dung Beetles, the**

****

**E., Sheila**

**Earhart, Amelia**

**Earl of Suffix, the**

**Ebbers, Bernie**

**Eder, Marvin**

**Eichmann, Adolf**

**Electra, Carmen**

**Elizabeth I, Queen**

**Ellie Mae 'n' Luke**

**Elliott, Ramblin' Jack**

**Elsie the Borden Cow**

**Empty Dumpty**

**Eng and Chang**

**Ernestine the telephone operator**

**Evans, Dale**

**Eve and Adam**

**Far and Near**

**Ferdinand the Bull**

**Fibhard, L. Ron**

**Fields, Double-U. C.**

**Finn, Huck**

**Fleiss, Heidi**

**Flying Nun, the**

**Flynn, Errol**

**Ford, President Gerund**

**Foreman, George**

**Francis, Con E.**

**Franklin, Aretha**

**Franks, Tommy**

**Friday, Det. Sgt. Joe**

**Friday, girl**

**Frost, Robert**

**Fudd, Ewmew and Ewmiwa**

**Fuhrman, Mark**

**Fürstenberg, Diane von**

****

**Gandhi, Indira**

**Garcia, Jerry**

**Geisel, Theodor Seuss**

**Geragos, Mark**

**with Iterson**

**with Ryder**

**Get-He, J. Paul**

**Gibbon, Edward**

**Ginsberg, Allen**

**God**

**with Tevye**

**with Wolfman Jack**

**with Twain**

**with Job**

**with Nightingale**

**with Vowel**

**with Hoffa**

**with Steinbeck**

**with Max**

**Goodry, Ron**

**Gotti, John**

**Graf, Steffi**

**Groupie-Clinger, Kate "Sigh"**

**Growl Tiger**

****

**Halfetz, Jascha**

**Halfetz, Mr., Mrs.**

**Ham-it, Kirk**

**Hamlet, Prince**

**Hammett, Dash—Heel**

**Hancock, Verb-be**

**Hand, Judge Learned**

**Harris-Dung, George**

**Hatfield, Devil Anse**

**Hearst, Party**

**Heathcliff and Catherine**

**Heel-Man, Lillian**

**Heer**

**Henny Penny**

**Henry VIII, King**

**Henry, Prince William**

**Hero and Leander**

**Hetfield, James**

**Heyerdahl, Thor**

**Hillary, Sir Edmund**

**Hoaty, Donkey**

**Hodel**

**Hoffa, Jimmy**

**Hogan, Hulk**

**Holmes, Sherlock**

**Homer**

**Hood, Little Red Riding**

**Hoover, Verb Art**

**Hopefully, Bob**

**Huffington, Airy-Anna**

**Hughes, Howard**

**Hughes, However and Mrs.**

**Hussein, Saddam**

**Hypha-Brawn**

**Hyph-Hitler**

****

**Innocent XII, Pope**

**Invisible Man, the**

**Irving, Clifford**

**_Italex And/or the Great_**

**_Itallica_**

**Iterson, Itt**

**Ito, Judge Lance**

**Iyore**

**Jack the Busher**

**Jack, Co-warden**

**Jane and Dick**

**Jane and Tarzan**

**JFK**

**Job**

**John Paul the Second**

**Johnson, Samuel**

**Jolson, Al**

**Jonah**

**Joseph, Virgin Mary's husband**

**Judy, Judge**

**Juliet and Romeo**

**Justice, "Blind"**

****

**Karsh, Yousuf**

**Kazi, Komma**

**Keith, To be**

**Ken and Barbie**

**Kettle, Ma and Pa**

**Kevorkian, Dr. Jack**

**Khashoggi, Add-noun**

**Khayyám, Omar, Omit**

**King, B. b.**

**King, Larry**

**King, Stephen**

**Kinski, Klaws**

**Knocksum-Senseintotheirblocks, Headmaster**

**Kolon, Kato**

**Kozlouseski, Denns**

****

**language, k.d.**

**Laura, Dr.**

**Lautrec, Too-loose**

**Law, John**

**Lawrence, D. H. and Frieda**

**Lay, Ken**

**Le Gas, Emeril**

**Leander and Hero**

**Leary, Timothy**

**Lee, Bruce**

**Lee, Gypsy Rose**

**Lee, You-all**

**Lennon, Dung**

**_Leo ingratias, Who_**

**Leo IX, King**

**Leo X, Pope**

**Leonardo da Vinci**

**Letter-man, David**

**Lewis, Jerry Lee**

**Li'l Endorphin Annie**

**Lion, the**

**Lister, Joseph**

**Liszt, Franz**

**Lollobrigida, Gina**

**London Bombers, the**

**Lone Ranger, the**

**Lord, the**

**with Jonah**

**with Mark Twain**

**Louis XVI, King**

**Low, Juliette Gordon**

**Luciano, Lucky**

**Luke 'n' Ellie Mae**

**Luke, Cool Hand**

**Lynn, Loretta**

****

**M, the Divine Ms.**

**Ma, Yo-Yo**

**Macbeth**

**MacDonald, Old and Nin**

**Mad Max**

**Magoo, Mr.**

**MAMO** ******(Marilyn Monroe)**

**Manners, Miss**

**Mansfield, Jayne**

**Mantis, Johnny**

**Marshall, J. Howard**

**Martin, Dean**

**with fanos**

**with Davis, Jr and Sinatra**

**Martin, Strother**

**Marvin, Lee**

**Marx, Groucho "Quotation"**

**Marx, Karl**

**Mary, Bloody**

**Mary, Queen of Scots**

**Mary, St.**

**Mary, the Virgin**

**McBoing Boing, Gerund**

**McCoy, Randall**

**McDungney, Paul**

**McGraw, Dr. Phil**

**McPherson, Aim-eh Semple**

**McPherson, Elle**

**McThat, Inspector**

**McVeigh, Timothy**

**Meat Loaf**

**Medica, Minerva**

**Merlin**

**Mesmer, Franz Anton**

**Miller, Dennis**

**Miller, Henry**

**Mix, Tom**

**Monroe, Marilyn** ******(MAMO)**

**More, Sir Thomas**

**More-Than, J. P.**

**Moses, Grammar**

**Müncháusen, Baron von**

****

**Napoleon**

**with most abbreviations**

**with Chauvin**

**Napostro, Owen**

**Nash, Ogden**

**Nate, Co-warden**

**Nature, Mother**

**Near and Far**

**Neeson, Liam**

**Nemo, Captain**

**Nessie the Loch Ness Monster**

**Niepce, Nicéphore**

**Nightingale, Florence**

**Nixon, Tricky Dick**

**Noncount of Nounte Crisco, the**

**Norgay, Tenzing**

**Number One and Number Two**

**Numirhal, Judge I. M.**

**Nym, Anaïs**

****

**O'Hara, Scarlett**

**O'Reilly, Bill**

**Obus, Judge Michael**

**Old-Dead, Gloria**

**Other, Each, Wunnan**

**Panza, Sancho**

**Parents**

**Parker, Dorothy**

**Parker, Fess**

**Passive, Joe**

**Pasteur, Louis**

**Patton, General George**

**Perrín, Reginald**

**Phraser, Simon**

**Picasso, Pablo**

**Pie-us-in-the-Skyus, Pope**

**Pigs, the Three Little**

**Plain Talk**

**Plato**

**Plunder-Howe, Howie**

**Poe, Edgar Allan**

**Pooh, Winnie the**

**Poseidon**

**Pot, Pol**

**Potter, Harry**

**Pound, Ezra**

**Powell, Colon**

**Powell, Semi-Colon**

**Powers, Francis Gary**

**Price, Alan**

**Prynne, Hester**

**Pryor, Richard**

****

**Queeg, Captain**

**Quincy, M. E.**

****

**Ranjha**

**Rawls, Lou and Nina**

**Rebozo, Bebe**

**Redgrave, Lynn, Vanessa**

**Redundant, Otiose**

**Reedar, Mrs.**

**Reid, Richard "Shoe Bomber"**

**Revere, Paul**

**Rite, Mr.**

**Robinson, Smokey and Mrs.**

**Rogers, Roy**

**Romeo and Juliet**

**Rommel, General Erwin**

**Roosevelt, Teddy**

**with Patton and Rommel**

**with Wright Brothers**

**Ross, Betsy**

**Rumpelteazer**

**Rumsfeld, Donald "Rummie"**

**Ryder, Whynonah**

****

**Sacco and Vanzetti**

**Sam, Uncle**

**Sandow, Eugen**

**Satan**

**Sawyer, Tom**

**Saxon, Arthur**

**Schreiber, A. Verb E. and Cornelia**

**Schulze, Klaus**

**Schwarzenegger, Arnold**

**Schweitzer, Dr. Albert**

**Scrooge, Ebeneezer**

**Seuss, Dr.**

**Shaffer, Paul**

**Shakespeare, William**

**Shakur, To Pack**

**Shankar, Ravi**

**Sheik of Araby, the**

**Shiva**

**Shriver, Maria**

**Shy-raq, Jock**

**Simmons, Gene**

**Simpson, Oreo James**

**Sinatra, Frank**

**Singing Nun, the**

**Slang, Frit**

**Smiling Flower**

**Smith, Anna "Nickel"**

**Smothers, Dick, Tommy**

**Socrates**

**Solomon, King**

**Spelling, Aaron and Mrs.**

**Spellman, Francis Cardinal**

**Spot (Cal Worthington's)**

**Stalin, Joseph**

**Starr, Dungo**

**Steele, John**

**Steinbeck, John**

**Stewart, Martha**

**Strait, George**

**Strawberry, Darryl and Lisette**

**Sutra, Kama**

**Sweatshopkeeper**

**Sweet, Shorthand**

**Sylvester and Tweety**

****

**Tarzan and Jane**

**Taunto**

**Taylor, Andy, Opie**

**Taylor, Liz**

**Teach, Captain Edward (Blackbeard)**

**Tearney, Gene**

**Tell, William**

**Teresa, Mother**

**Tevye**

**Thomas, Marlo**

**Three Witches, the**

**Tiny Tim**

**Tojo, Prime Minister**

**Tone, Franchot**

**Tracy, Dicktion**

**Triola, Michelle**

**Trujillo, Robert**

**Trump, Donald**

**with Clinton, Cruz, and Sanders**

**Turner, Tina**

**Tut, King**

**Twain, Mark**

**Tweed, Shannon**

**Tweety and Sylvester**

**Twitty, Con-way**

**Two-shoes, Little Goody**

**Tzeitel**

****

**U. S. Supreme Court**

**Ulrich, Lars**

****

**Valentine, Hilton**

**van (to) Gogh, Vincent**

**Vanzetti and Sacco**

**Verb-Be, Jules**

**with Hamlet**

**Virgule**

**Vishnu**

**Vlad the Imp(darker), the Imp(paler)**

**Vowel, Adam Clayton**

****

**Waldo**

**Warbucks, Daddy**

**Warhol, Andy**

**Washington, George**

**Watson**

**Sherlock Holmes'**

**Alexander Graham Bell's**

**Wayne, John**

**Weider, Joe**

**Weir, Bob**

**Weiss, Larry**

**Werewolfman Jack**

**What, James**

**Whatt, James**

**Winfrey, Oprah**

**Words'-worth, William**

**Worthington, Cal**

**Wright, Orville, Wilbur**

**Write, Frank Lloyd**

**Write, Mr.**

**Wurd-Zand, Sir Phraser**

****

**Yente**

**You and I**

**Young, Judge William**

**Yu, Fooy Tu**

****

**Zorba the Greek**

**The Learnniks**

Genuine child stars, not a few of the learnniks have numerous captivating walk-ons, and it can be hard keeping up, especially if, like Ms. Spinster, your legs aren't what they used to be. She gave up on hers long ago, yet considers them no loss at all, perfectly thrilled to be letting her fingers do the walking. And so can you, she hastens to add, every bit as spryly. With but effortless finger motion, simply type or paste the name of an adorable child star into your ereader's search function. In no time at all you'll be _en scène_ , living and reliving every heart-melting performance, elated to be keeping up, as never before, with the lifestyles of the brats and famous.

Adjectina

Adver-Bella

Bradjective (Sir Rub-Your-Eyes, Sir Half-Awake)

Bulletina

Case-Annedra

Casey (Sir Wet-Soil)

Chadverb

Clausette

Clausia

Connie-Jung

Dashiell

Dashley

Dottie

Edverb

Gerundine

Gramela

Laverbe

Learner

Linkoln

Moodonna

Morency

Nounette

Noungelica

Numbernice

Numbertha

Ottodidact

Pattyciple

Phil O'Logue

Phil O'Math

Phraser

Polly-Math

Precosha

Prepscilla

Prose-Mary

Punctilla

Pupilla

Question Mark

Quotilda

Sammycolon

Scholarina

Semintha

Spelding

Spellvira

Studenta

Styla

Toneya

Verbena

**Image Matters**

** **

The images in this work, like that above, were created, for the most part, from images in the public domain, using Adobe Elements 15 and a year and a half of my life. In some instances I sought, and was graciously given permission to use, copyrighted images. For the remaining minority I used images that presumably are still protected by copyright, in good faith that they qualify as **Fair Use** as defined in 17 U. S. C. Section 107 of the 1976 Copyright Act.

Fair Use is a doctrine of long standing in American copyright law, existing as common law since the 1800s and codified in the 1976 Copyright Act. Its purpose is to allow for _limited and reasonable uses_ as long as the use does not interfere with owners' rights or impede their right to do with the work as they wish. Fair Use exists to promote freedom of expression, allowing copyrighted works to be used without permission for the greater benefit of the public. The U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit concluded that fair use is not merely a defense to an infringement claim, but is an _expressly authorized right_ , and an exception to the exclusive rights granted to the author of a creative work by copyright law. Section 107 of the Copyright Act provides the statutory framework for determining whether something is a fair use, and identifies certain types of uses—such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, research, and parody—as examples of activities that may qualify as fair use. It's a delicate balance between the creator's rights and the public's interest. When in conflict, the balance tips toward the public's interest, which is often contrary to what the creator believes to be fair or just. Section 107 considers four factors in evaluating fair use:

1) the purpose and character of the use, including whether such use is commercial or serves a nonprofit educational purpose (although a for-profit educational purpose shall not itself bar a finding of fair use if such finding is made upon consideration of all four factors). Additionally, "transformative use" has been incorporated into the first factor. A transformative use is one that adds something new, with a further purpose or different character (such as parody), and does not substitute for the original use of the work. If the use is found to be a transformative use, it is almost always found to be a fair use.

2) the nature of the copyrighted work: this factor analyzes the degree to which the work used relates to copyright's purpose of encouraging creative expression. Using a more creative or imaginative work (such as a novel, movie, or song) is less likely to support a claim of fair use than using a factual work (such as a technical article or news item).

3) the amount and substantiality of the portion used in relation to the copyrighted work as a whole.

4) the effect of the use upon the potential market for or value of the copyrighted work.

Given that the nature of this work is educational, and is highly transformative; that in each instance the portion used of the copyrighted work as a whole is minimal and no more than necessary; and that the harm to the market value of the copyrighted work may be assumed to be negligible to nil, such uses may reasonably be adjudged fair use under copyright law.

Yet, Patient Reader, I might have spared both of us all consideration of fair use by one simple expedient, one that virtually every other grammar book author has resorted to since _Never end a sentence with a preposition_ was first chiseled in stone: _Never end a reader's boredom with an image._ I confess there were times when I was struggling to create an image, and the most beautiful images of _all_ I could otherwise be doing, __ if only I had an extra year and a half of life, flashed before me. But each time a more powerful image loomed large, totally eclipsing all others:

****

** **

****

The moral, as near as I could make it out, seemed to be: if I should merely instruct, all my efforts would come bust; but if I should also _please_ , all my efforts would come bust.

Gentle Reader, I sincerely hope that in looking into this novel grammar it will be your delighted and newly learned judgment that I have both pleased and instructed you; more vital, that I have improved _your_ image, the most important in the book, far beyond any feeble powers of Photoshop.
**  
**

**Acknowledgments**

We humans love to go places; and if, as is often the case, they are distant, exotic places, we zealously cast about for a means of transport, some likely vehicle of sufficient capacity to accommodate us and such friends and loved ones of our choosing (or not). A _ready-made_ vehicle. No sane traveler thinks to run out and purchase the thousands of disparate parts of which it is composed, and laboriously assemble them into the desired means of transport. But when authors have in mind to go to some enchanting, far-away place, and take untold numbers of readers there in a transport, the _last_ thing in the world they look for, unless they're rank plagiarists, are ready-made vehicles, though such are without number and may be had for a pittance, often nothing. They'll have no truck with such. The only vehicle for them is one they laboriously build from scratch—heads and money—from the ground up. They not only think to reinvent the wheel, but every other part as well. So they madly go about it, often for many years, sometimes dying before they ever finish it. But even those that succeed in getting it together have to acknowledge, grudgingly, that they can't do everything themselves, and they put their "baby" in the capable hands of grease monkeys who can fire it up, tune it to perfection, make it street legal, and get it on the road. At which point the proud author takes the plush steering wheel in hand knowing _This is where the reader meets the read_ —and tromps it, putting the mettle to the peddle, the large fuzzy dice swinging wildly from the rearview mirror with every hair-raising twist and turn, the _"Gee!"_ force driving those along for the read to the edge of their seats, distorting their faces into one engrossed shape after the other as they gush out the window to every gape-mouthed blur they flash by, "You've _gotta_ take this joyread—it's _wild_!"

That I am such an author I freely acknowledge, not least that I could not have done it without the love of Ms. Spinster. If not for her love of grammar, and her novel idea to wed it to glamour, her willingness to go the distance, _in her high lace boots_ —all the way back to the Garden of Eden—and engage over 500 celebrities to bring grammar to light and to life, I never would have been able to singlehandedly build this novel vehicle myself from scratch.

Yet there's this naysaying voice, all too familiar:

" ** _You didn't build that_** _. Somebody else made that happen._ _Somebody along the assembly line gave you some help. There was a great teacher somewhere in your life who taught you the alphabet, and how to read and write_. And you read such authors as came before you, and suffered themselves in garreted solitude only less than in poverty and obscurity to show you the way, you standing on the shoulders of the giants among them, the better to see as you recklessly careered your way forward. And there were all the other artists—photographers, painters, illustrators, sculptors, graphic designers—whose works you so freely appropriated to gussy up your vehicle's headliner like some mobile Sistine Chapel, for the noble reason, you claimed, of pleasing those along for the read. Which, despite your intentions, you couldn't have done without the technological wizardry of Photoshop, and if George Peirson hadn't so ably taught you to use it. Which would have been just as impossible if Steve Jobs and Steve Wozniak hadn't plucked the Apple from the tree of knowledge, an act of faith you could not have found words for if Bill Gates hadn't laid the further godsend of Microsoft Word upon you. With such inspired technology, and others too numerous to mention, you were able to 'singlehandedly' piece together your uniquely 'self'-built novel transport. But as fantastically novel as it was, you couldn't rightly show it off without a fantastically novel paint job. For that you called upon the surreal artistry of Adam Wayne. Oh, but, all dressed up now, it had no place to go. And there, on a hard drive going nowhere, it might have died, 'born to blush unseen and waste its sweetness on the desert air.' But, wonderful to relate! Necessity being the mother of invention, Al Gore warmed to the inconvenient challenge and invented the internet, the World Wide Web. Owing to Al's ingenuity, you now had a smooth worldwide network of eroads to run on, thanks to carbon credits, and endless eplaces for a novel transport to go— _all but one of which_ , it struck you with all the force of a Mack truck, would never be seen, because one can only be in one place at a time. But, as miracles happen, the mother of invention, fresh from delivery, was already in labor, and presently gave birth to _triplets_ : Jeff Bezos, the Father of Online Marketing, and Amazon.com. With that single act of parturition, a single author in a single novel transport could be everywhere at once. Thanks be to Heaven! But not so fast. The internet being a superhighway, your vehicle needed to be suped up to run on it. It needed a whole new set of nuts and bolts called HTML, and every one had to be in its proper place and torqued to perfection, all of which would have driven you nuts if not for Mark Myers ( _A Smarter Way to Learn HTML & CSS_). And so on. . . .

"So you had a lot of help. I think you would acknowlege that."

Hmmph! What I openly acknowledge is this: we're an unlikely couple, Ms. Spinster and I—but we're madly in love. Our hope, in our heart of hearts, as we blissfully cruise on by in our deliriously novel transport, is that you will read it in our joyous faces, the more so in our lightsome hearts, and acknowledge our improbable love with the warmest of smiles, the most touching of waves—and be _happy_ for us.

**Author**

** **

Canadian by birth, expatriate by climate, David Madison is a **fabulous** writer. But if you've read this novel grammar, you already know that. Each of the 330 tales illustrating a rule is written in the manner of a **fable** , "a short narrative making an edifying or cautionary point, often employing as characters _animals_ that speak and act like humans." He is a permanent resident of Belize, which, being situated below Mexico on the Caribbean Sea, is fabulous in its own right. But one look at a map will undeceive you: it is nowhere near as fabulous as he is. When he's not being fabulous, in one sense, he spends the remainder of his waking hours answering the question _What qualifies you to write a grammar book?_ His ready answer, marvelous for its concision, is that he has some five more years of school learning than Mark Twain, and far fewer cats. While those seeming disqualifications are sinking in, he is quick to emphasize that he correctly said far _fewer_ , not far less cats.

**Copyright**

****

Copyright © 2018 David Madison

Smashwords Edition

Written by David Madison

Cover art by Adam Wayne and David Madison

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. Any members of educational institutions wishing to photocopy excerpts for classroom use, or others who would like to obtain permission, should send their inquiries to the publisher at dmadison@spinlady.net . Scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author's intellectual property. Thank you for respecting the author's rights.

David Madison

P.O Box 257

San Ignacio, Belize

Central America

dmadison@spinlady.net
