Tom Naughton

I was never a big fan of Weird Al Yankovic’s videos, but I love this one:

YES!!  Go, Weird Al!  We may not have much in common, but we obviously share a fundamental trait:  we’re both grammar grumps.  Every time I see 15 Items or Less at the grocery store, I’m nearly as annoyed by the sign as I am by that person in front of me stacking 187 items on the conveyor.  I’m triply annoyed if one of those items is a box of food with a label advertising 1/3 Less Calories!

In case you didn’t already know, less and fewer have different meanings.  So do number and amount, although a surprising number (not amount) of intelligent people use them interchangeably.  It drives me nuts when I hear newscasters talk about “a large amount of people” showing up at some public event.  I’ve been known to yell grammar lessons at the TV during such moments.

For the record, if you’re talking about something you can count, the proper words are number and fewer:  A large number of people attended, but fewer than last year. If you’re talking about something you would measure — or can’t count —  the proper words are amount and less:  A large amount of manure passing for debate comes out of Washington, and I don’t expect any less of it this year.

Not sure if you’d count or measure?  Well, here’s the convenient way to think of it:  if the word is plural, you’re counting.  Fewer calories.  Fewer people. If it’s not plural, you’re probably not counting.  Less fat … but fewer grams of fat.

Perhaps in the scheme of things, the difference between less and fewer seems trivial.  I don’t care; it’s not trivial to me.  Language matters.  Precision matters.  Clarity matters, and clarity isn’t possible without precision.  Sloppy language honks me off.

Yes, I admit it:  I’m the guy who emails newspaper editors to complain when reporters can’t distinguish between it’s and its.   Again, for the record:  it’s means it is or it has. Its is the possessive form of it … his, hers, its.  So the dog most definitely does not wag it’s tail.

I see its and it’s mixed up all the time in emails, blog posts, tweets, Facebook updates, etc.   I cringe a bit, but hey, we’re talking about individuals who probably didn’t major in English or journalism and aren’t working with an editor.

Newspapers are another story.  Now we’re talking about people who are supposed to be language professionals, and whose work isn’t published until it’s been reviewed by at least two or three other language professionals.  Maybe it’s because media organizations are now staffed by people who grew up watching TV instead of reading books, but I’m stunned by the number (not the amount) of errors I see in newspapers, magazines, advertisements, online news sites, and even in title graphics that appear on network news and sports programs.  It’s a tough old world out there for a grammar grump like me.

I’m not sure why I grew up to be a grammar grump.  My mom taught high-school English, but not until I was nearly finished with high school myself.  In fact, she recalls sending my dad love-letters while she was in high school and he was away at college … and then receiving them back in the mail with the misspellings and grammar errors circled in red ink.  (Amazingly, she married him anyway.)

So perhaps I inherited grammar grumpiness from my dad.  He majored in business administration and ran his own company after a career in sales, but he had a professional writer’s way with words.  He would occasionally ask me to proof a business letter for him, and I was always impressed with his clear sentences, the logical flow of his paragraphs, and the fact that I never — and I mean never — found a misspelled or misused word.

If I did inherit grammar grumpiness, it was honed when I wrote for the campus newspaper in college — thanks mostly to Harry, our faculty adviser.  A retired newspaperman from the era when journalists drank at their desks, Harry read each day’s edition cover to cover, marking all the errors in red ink.  Then he dropped the “Harry edition” on our editor’s desk.

We usually crept over to pick up the “Harry edition” as if it were a live bomb, each of us hoping our own articles would be red-ink free.  That was rarely the case.  Occasionally, Harry would even scribble a helpful note in the margin:

Tom – you stated that this technology will likely be adopted in “a couple of generations.”  A generation is approximately 25 years.  Do you really expect it will take 50 years to be adopted?  Aren’t we looking at something more like 20 years?

Perhaps the most embarrassed editor ever to work at our college paper was the one who put this headline over a story:  English Department Opens Grammer Hotline For Students.  Harry’s note in the margin:  They’ll be delighted to know they’re needed.

What a pleasure it was to discover that Weird Al has some Harry in him.  I’m not ambitious enough to go the video route, but in Weird Al’s honor, I’m going to put on my official grammar-grump hat and list some of the all-too-common errors that would probably drive Harry to drink … or least stock up on red pens.

Don’t be jealous, but please be possessive … or plural … just make up your mind.

I understand the confusion with its and it’s.  We’re used to adding apostrophe-s to make a word possessive.  The dog’s tail was wagging. But I don’t understand when I go to a store and see that onion’s and apple’s are on sale.  Or that there’s a managers special.  (A special on managers?  How many per customer?)  And if I see one more mailbox telling me The Robinson’s live there … well, I won’t be outraged if some teenagers decide to play mailbox baseball.  I’ll just assume they’re grammar grumps in a convertible.

They’re grammar needs work

They’re over there, and their car needs a spare.  Okay?  It’s not they’re car, or there car.  It’s their car.  And it’s over there.  They’re sitting in it, planning a game of mailbox baseball.  The Robinson’s better beware.

Your an Idiot

There’s nothing quite so satisfying as being called an idiot by an idiot.  A couple of years ago, I made the mistake of participating in an online political debate with someone who believed insults trump logic and facts.  We had an exchange that went something like this:

Thats not true!  Your an idiot!
Yes, it is true.  You can look it up.  And it’s “You’re an idiot,” genius.
I am not.  Your an idiot!
You’re.  Not Your.  You are an idiot.  Not “belongs to you” an idiot.
No, YOUR THE IDIOT!
You’re missing the point.  It’s a grammar issue.  You’re, not your.
@#$% you, theres nothing wrong with my grammar!  Your an idiot!

In a comedy club in Minneapolis some years back, I noticed an ad on the men’s room wall:  A hot-model babe wearing sunglasses (and not much else), along with the logo for the brand of sunglasses, plus the words:  When Your Ready For The Look!

I couldn’t help myself … I wrote down the name of the ad agency.  I called them the next day and, after managing to convince a couple of gatekeepers I wasn’t a complete nut, got the account manager on the phone.

“I’m sorry, what exactly are you calling about?”
“Your ad, the one for the sunglasses.  When your ready for the look. Y-O-U-R.”
“Yes?  I don’t understand, is there something wrong with it?”
“Y-O-U-R!  That’s like your dog or your car.  It doesn’t mean you are.  See the difference?  You’ve got a huge mistake there in a big display ad that’s probably all over the place.”
“Oh, my … holy @#$%!! Thanks, man!”  (click)

This was an expensive, poster-sized advertisement, you understand.  That means at least  a half-dozen people approved it … writer, art director, account manager, typesetter, printer, and of course the clients.  Nobody caught the error.  Amazing … and sad.

The last time I saw this particular error, a radar-activated highway sign in Illinois told me Your speeding! Yeah, I’m speeding … and your an idiot.

Don’t feel badly about it.

I feel great.  I feel awful.  I feel healthy.  I feel sick.  I feel strong.  I feel tired.  I feel optimistic.  But I never feel badly, because my fingers are in working order.  If they go numb, then I’ll feel badly.  In the meantime, if I’ve insulted anyone, I might feel bad about it.

Sort of unique, really unique, pretty unique.

You can’t be sort of dead, and you can’t be sort of unique … or even really unique.  The word means one of a kind. It’s an absolute condition — no modifiers need apply.  I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve heard newscasters talk about “a relatively unique situation.”  No, if there’s relativity involved, it would be unusual or perhaps even rare.  But it’s not unique.

Between you and I, if it’s up to you and I, it’s really up to you and me.

Okay, so as kids, we’d run home and say, “Mom!  Me and Billy went to the creek and –” and before we could explain that Billy was last seen slipping under some seriously muddy water and frantically waving for help, Mom would immediately interrupt to say, “Billy and I!  Billy and I!”

So now whenever there’s another person sharing any part of a sentence with us, it’s I, I, I … even when it’s wrong.  It seemed to my wife and I that … between you and I … if it’s up to you and I, we should … Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Billy and I went to the creek. Yes, that’s correct, because you and Billy together are the subjects of the sentence.  But you and Billy can also be considered objects together, even if you never move to California and visit the sex clubs.

Subject, object … let’s not get into diagramming sentences.  Here’s the shortcut:  remove Billy from the equation for a moment.  It’s up to I? I’m pretty sure even people who slept through grammar classes wouldn’t say that.  It’s up to me. Ahh, that sounds better.  Now put Billy back where he belongs:  It’s up to Billy and me.

As for between, remove Billy once again and substitute under for between.  It’s under I? I don’t think so.  It’s under me. And it’s between Billy and me, too.

Ain’t got a brain between them

Years ago a comedian I worked with had a funny bit about being arrested for drunk driving and then becoming belligerent with the cops when they took him in.  (Don’t try this at home.)  I’m paraphrasing, but part of the bit went something like this:

So I’m all stupid and drunk, and I turn to the cops and yell, “@#$% you, you damned cops!  Yeah, you got the badges and guns, but you ain’t got a brain between you!”  They all look at each other, and then the biggest, toughest-looking cop comes over, gets right in my face and says, “Look, punk.  There are three cops standing here, see?  So if you’re real smart, you’ll change that to Ain’t got a brain AMONG you.”

Between is a bicycle built for two.  ‘Nuff said.

I realize that by picking this topic, I’ve pretty much invited everyone to point out every typo, every missing word, and every (egads!) misused word in any post I’ve ever written.  Go for it.  I can take it.  I learned long ago that while I’m good at proofreading other people’s work, my brain sees what it expects to see when it’s my own text.

And if you’re a fellow grammar grump, chime in with examples of your own grumpiness.  Maybe I’ll post another list.