Words

I am not the grammar police.

I am but a lowly rent-a-cop. Mall police. Retail security. I carry adjectives and adverbs in little pouches and dangle participles from my belt, my pants tucked into my boots and my aviator sunglasses shielding me from the dangers of fluorescent and incandescent wavelengths alike, allowing me to covertly survey the masses for signs of the nefarious and despicable among us.

Yes, they're everywhere.

I have a dog-eared spiral notebook, and pen, part of my talisman tchotchke awarded at my graduation ceremony. I got them from a real English Teacher. High School.

And just as I am poised to assimilate "conversate" into the common lexicon, jamming my baton back into my belt to menace no one ever again who utters that epithet, along comes "woah". I know. In 2013. So my enforcement lags in a temporal fashion. It's an artifact of the work to be done, and the part-time nature of the profession. Nonetheless, I must profess...

O forces of Facebook and Twitter, your powers are strong. You and your progeny Snapchat and Tumblr assail the outnumbered but stout "band of blue" [lexicographer version]. Pepper sprays and cold water hosings might need be employed, coarse tho they may be.

In the interim, what is Duke (John Wayne) supposed to say?

"Halt, Equine!"??

The Cartwrights and Hoss spin in their graves.

Well, Hoss, possibly not so much.


Comments

David and Mary Margaret Leu said…
Enjoying your blog, old friend. Keep it up and try to stay dry...
November 30, 2016 at 9:13 AM
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