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Whenever I’m bored I like to look through the Futility Closet. Today I saw an interesting post, if you’re into strange language (it’s from 1890, so we’ll excuse some of the wording).  Here’s the text:

TO BE LET,
To an Oppidan, a Ruricolist, or a Cosmopolitan, and may be entered upon immediately:

The House in STONE Row, lately possessed by CAPT. SIREE. To avoid Verbosity, the Proprietor with Compendiosity will give a Perfunctory description of the Premises, in the Compagination of which he has Sedulously studied the convenience of the Occupant. It is free from Opacity, Tenebrosity, Fumidity, and Injucundity, and no building can have greater Pellucidity or Translucency — in short, its Diaphaneity even in the Crepuscle makes it like a Pharos, and without laud, for its Agglutination and Amenity, it is a most Delectable Commorance; and whoever lives in it will find that the Neighbors have none of the Truculence, the Immanity, the Torvity, the Spinosity, the Putidness, the Pugnacity, nor the Fugacity observable in other parts of the town, but their Propinquity and Consanguinity occasion Jocundity and Pudicity — from which, and the Redolence of the place (even in the dog-days), they are remarkable for Longevity. For terms and particulars apply to JAMES HUTCHINSON, opposite the MARKET-HOUSE.
– “Dub. News.,” quoted in Charles Carroll Bombaugh, Gleanings for the Curious from the Harvest-Fields of Literature, 1890

That sort of takes your breath away, doesn’t it. It makes you wonder what you were doing during English class. Not paying attention, I guess. I don’t know that I have ever consciously used more than half of all these words (I’m not including verbs, prepositions or conjunctions).

I was going to pick out my favorite sentence and copy and paste it here, but then I realized that it’s all one sentence starting from the It’s free from part. The whole text only has 4 periods in it, for heaven’s sake. Makes every German heart beat a bit quicker.

I’ll just pick out some worthy parts: Opacity, Tenebrosity, Fumidity,  Injucundity,  Pellucidity, Translucency, Diaphaneity, Crepuscle, Agglutination, Amenity, Commorance.

I keep thinking of something contagious here and I’m afraid I’m coming down with a fever just reading it, but nevertheless, some of this vocab really could spice up your conversations. So let’s all pick 3 or 4 of these words and use them this week.
I’ll take agglutination (I can use that one a lot), commorance (’cause I just moved), tenebrocity (seems all purpose), and crepuscle (my favorite time of day).

I wonder which ones Justi and Nicole will take.

Bruce Sterling from Beyond the Beyond is a bit stumped. And why is he stumped? Because he got a really good business proposition, but he’s not sure if he should jump at it or not. Being the linguistically sensitive guy he is, some of the wording has made him wonder if it’s really what he’s looking for.

Here’s the email. What do you think?

Here’s the text for those to lazy to try the link:

Good time of day. You are disturbed by the charitable company Redd Cross of Slovenia. We have the business offer for you. We can offer to you of earnings, thus your salary will make from 1000$ to 2000$ per one month, at an incomplete working day. Your earnings can be and higher. The more and forces you will give time, the there will be your salary more.

If it is interesting to you, you write on the address of e-mail of our agent: manager_on_connections@yahoo.com he will contact you within 24 hours and will throw off to you all details, and will answer you on all your questions.

Thank you for attention Redd Cross of Slovenia!

I know what you all are thinking, but no, Gorbach didn’t write it. 

But it comes down to the same problem. Somebody is trying to sell something here.
This is a scary thought.
I do realise that this is spam, and we can’t really expect high language standards from spam. But let’s be honest, this is certainly not the first really bad English you or I have ever seen (let your mind wander back a few months…).

I don’t want to get snotty about grammar, or sentence structure, or any of that. God knows I’m not a stickler, but there is a limit.  If you’re going to impersonate somebody then you could at least spell their name right. Who could possibly take this seriously?

Except, … maybe, … hmmm … maybe their main takers are people with equally well developed English skills.

If you look at it that way, it’s almost a niche business. Maybe there’s work for Gorbach after all.

According to English, Jack, there’s an idiom shortage going on in America. This is serious business here. It starts over there and before you know it, it’s spread to Europe.

There’ll be some hard times for English teachers. And the rest of the English speaking world (and those who would like to join that rest) are going to feel the pinch as well. 

Here’s the original article in the Onion.

Well, you know what they say - easy come, easy …   Ooops. Forget it. I’m saving my idioms for a rainy d.. (ooops)

I’m healing nicely. 

I can pretty much use all my fingers again. Before I got rid of the bandages, I could only sort of thump on the keyboard with my left hand and then go back and delete the extra letters with my right hand. (Note to self: don’t forget to take the fondue skewer out of the tool-box.)

So anyway, although I couldn’t really type, I certainly could surf. And so I spent my idle hours once again looking for jobs for my leisure-minded animals. I didn’t find much, but I did come across a myriad of ways to get some verbal mileage out of dogs.

Let’s face it, dogs have  it rough.
A dog is either a dog (as in woof-woof), or an ugly woman, or a contemptible man, or an unsuccessful deal or a less than satisfactory thing, and to dog (or hound) is to follow or hunt.
To go to the dogs means to degenerate
A dog’s life is an awful existence
We all know that it’s a dog eat dog world out there (we heard it first from our mothers)
You’re as sick as a dogwhen you’re vomiting your guts out (sorry)
If you do something wrong and get caught, you might end up in the doghouse
Like I always tell my son, “I work like a dogfor you, and you leave your socks on the tv…”
The underdog is the one who has no chance to win
If you lie down with dogs, you’ll get up with fleas
Here are some less negative ones:
Every dog has its day (as in a good day)
You put on the dog when you get dressed elegantly
Although dogs are nice, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks 
Some things are better left alone, so just let sleeping dogs lie
A very long time is an absolute dog’s age

As you can probably guess, there are zillion more (or at least 20 to 30), but I have to stop somewhere.

Did you notice a pattern here? I mean in both part one and part two (of the pointless pet series).
Cats really get off better than dogs, don’t they? The English language basically treats them nicely. Dogs are scum. That doesn’t seem really fair. Think about it - dogs spend their entire existence gazing lovingly into their persons’ eyes, catering to their every wish and desire. Okay, maybe not every single wish and desire, but hey, those dogs are out there trying. They’re rooting for you. They feel involved, responsible, interested.
Can’t say that for cats, and I would go so far as to say that you can’t say that for all cats (although admittedly, some are less obvious about their dislike than others).

I’m not  quite sure where that gets me, from a moral stand point, but I think I’ve spent enough time in pet-reflection.

Semicolons frighten most people I know. People can get real emotional if you ask them to use one. Native German speakers seem to harbor an inherent distrust of them; as if they were contagious, or could somehow taint the sentence around them.

I find them nice. They look friendly and important. They’re not quite as serious as a colon, and not quite as frivolous as a comma. They’re a bit of a compromise, in a diplomatic sort of way.

By chance I read this in the New York Times. Seems the semicolon is celebrating a resurrection of sorts.
A current poster in the New York subway reminds passengers not to leave their newspapers behind when they get off the train.
Please put it in a trash can, read the sign, until Neil Neches, a transit’s marketing agency employee, added the now-famous semicolon and finished the sentence to read,  that’s good news for everyone.

This did not (how could it in New York) go unnoticed. Even cult grammarian Lynne Truss, author of the popular punctuation book “Eats, shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation.” saw the sign and called it a “lovely example” of proper punctuation. (note to self: return borrowed book to Justi)

But that’s not all.

The semicolon has become The Topic of the blogsphere. Our Bold Hero, a reactionary proof-reader blogging unflinchingly against prescriptive grammar, fills in his two cents worth here.

Long live the semicolon! - And if you get time, buy the punctuation book. It’s worth the read, even if you don’t care about punctuation.

I’m still trying to figure out how I can make some gainful use out of all these unproductive animals I have at home. (Unfortunately, the job as Schrödinger’s Cat was already filled by the time The Cat got her CV off. Good jobs don’t grow on trees, you know, and there must have been at least 100 other cats with her qualifications.) Anyway, let’s get back to this pointless-pet problem.

Linguistically speaking, all of them have possibilities and uses. Each and every one of them has already long found his/her purpose in idiomatic English. (I can’t say the same for home.) Let’s start, for personal reasons, with cats, and look at some of the ways we can put them to use,  be it only in our language.

Where to start?
You let the cat out of the bag when you tell a secret and you weren’t supposed to.
A visibly nervous person looks like a cat on a hot tin roof (or on hot bricks). 
You look like something the cat dragged in if you look like, well, something the cat dragged in.
A room can be so small that there is no room to swing a cat.
Not only do all roads lead to Rome, but there is also more than one way to skin a cat. (Has a nice ring to it)
A rich and generally powerful person is often referred to as a fat cat.
You are said to be grinning like the Cheshire Cat when you’re grinning ear to ear.
If you are reluctant to speak, people may ask if the cat’s got your tongue.
It’s raining cats and dogs when it is really raining hard. 

And, as we all know, when the cat’s away, the mice will play.

Naturally, there are countless more, but I just can’t list them all. As we can clearly see, cats do at least contribute something to society. They are not completely useless.
Oh, and before I forget, I wanted to mention one more cat-thing. Many of you may or may not realise this, but cats have 9 (read: nine) lives in English.
Think about it.

Apropos of idioms, here is an interesting site I found. It’s called Ponderings of a Cowboy Hat English Teacher. He goes quite in depth in his treatment of idioms - I personally appreciate the cowboy slant (duh). And here is a site that lists endless idioms (quantity goes before quality).

For more of my pointless pet idioms, stay tuned.

Ever since I’ve been in Austria (which is, believe me, a very long time) I have been amazed at the amount of dialects the Austrians have and the differences between them. Just because you understand Viennese, doesn’t mean that you’ll do well with Tyrolean, for example, or Carinthian for that matter (just ask me).

I always thought to myself, “Well, these Austrians are a fine lot. They can’t get their language organized at all. It’s a wonder they understand each other, let alone how we foreigners cope.” English, of course, is easy.

We do have some dialects in English, naturally. But ours are easy to understand and use. For example:

Here a sample text in “normal” English:
Susan and John walked down the street hand in hand. They were planing a lovely evening together. First, they would dine at an expensive restaurant, and then they would take in a late movie. And after the movies, John was hoping to get the chance to pop the big question. Soon, if all went well, Susan would be his wife.

Here the same text in Red Neck:
Pansy an’ John-Boy walked down th’ street han’ in han’. They were planin’ a lovely evenin’ togither. Fust, they’d dine at an expensive restaurant, an’ then they’d take in a late movie. An’ af’er th’ movies, John-Boy was hopin’ t’git th’ chance t’pop th’ trimenjus quesshun. Soon, eff’n all went fine, Pansy’d be his wife.

Here the same text in Jive:
Susan and Raz’tus walked waaay down de street hand in hand. Dey wuz planin’ some lovely evenin’ togeder. Ah be baaad… Fust, dey would dine at an ‘espensive restaurant, and den dey would snatch in some late movie. And afta’ de movies, Raz’tus wuz hopin’ t’get da damn chance t’pop de big quesshun. Soon, if all went well, Susan would be his mama.

This time in Cockney:
Susan and John walked dahn the bleedin’ street ‘and in ‘and. They were planin’ a luvly evenin’ togeffer. First, they would dine at an expensive restaurant, right, and then they would take in a late movie. And after the movies, John were ‘opin’ ter get the chance ter pop the big question. Soon, right, if all went well, Susan would be ‘is ole lady.

How about Elmer Fudd English:
Susan and John wawked down the stweet hand in hand. Dey wewe pwaning a wovewy evening togethew. Fiwst, they wouwd dine at an expensive westauwant, and then they wouwd take in a wate movie. And aftew the movies, John was hoping to get the chance to pop the big qwestion, uh-hah-hah-hah. Soon, if aww went weww, Susan wouwd be his wife.

Or maybe pig latin (my personal favorite):
Usansay andyay Ohnjay alkedway ownday ethay eetstray andhay inyay andhay. Eythay ereway aningplay ayay ovelylay eveningyay ogethertay. Irstfay, eythay ouldway ineday atyay anyay expensiveyay estaurantray, andyay enthay eythay ouldway aketay inyay ayay atelay oviemay. Andyay afteryay ethay oviesmay, Ohnjay asway opinghay otay etgay ethay ancechay otay oppay ethay igbay uestionqay. Oonsay, ifyay allyay entway ellway, Usansay ouldway ebay ishay ifeway.

Does this look like fun?
Here’s a great page to turn all your documents, texts, emails, or whatever into pig latin, or red neck English, or any other wide-spread dialect.

It might help if you’re having trouble getting your co-workers (or children) to understand you. Maybe you’re just speaking the wrong language.

Most people are truly interested in increasing their vocabularies, because, as we all know, a broad vocabulary lends a speaker conversational dexterity (a certain savoir faire) and creates a large comfort zone in a wide range of subjects and situations.

In other words, a strong vocabulary can, and will, change your life (for the better).

I’ve started a new category called, fittingly enough, vocabulary. I’ll use this category to introduce new and exciting words which will help you to, well, increase your vocabulary, and, in turn, make your conversational and writing experiences more enjoyable and, with luck, profitable.

Seeing as we are in the midst of Fasching here (Carnival, for you English speakers), I thought this first list was appropriate:

An unusual list of sex-related terms:

Faunoiphilia(FAW-nay-FIL-ee-uh) - An abnormal desire to watch animals copulate.

Brassirothesauriast(bruh-zeer-oh-thuh-SAW-ree-ast) - A person who collects brassieres or pictures of women wearing them.

Eunoterpsia(YOO-noh-TURP-see-uh) - The doctrine that pursuing sexual pleasure is the goal of life.

Typhlobasia(TIF-luh-BAY-zee-uh) - Kissing with the eyes closed.

Amychesis (AM-i-KEE-sis) - The involuntary act of scratching or clawing your partner in the heat of passion.

Mammaquatia(MAM-uh-KWAY-shee-uh) - The bobbing or jiggling of a woman’s breasts when she walks, dances, or exercises.

Ozoamblyrosis(OH-zoh-AM-bli-ROH-sis) - Loss of sexual appetite because your partner has wicked B.O.

Amomaxia (AM-uh-MAX-see-uh) - Love-making in a parked car.

Colpocoquette(KAHL-puh-koh-KET) - A woman who knows she has an attractive bosom, and who makes good use of its allure.

Melolagnia (MEL-uh-LAG-nee-uh) - Amorous feelings inspired by music.

By the way, I found the list here (one of the hottest blogs in town).

I mentioned before that I spend a lot of my time proof-reading documentation and, of course, working with professional people who want to perfect their English. Now most of the authors of said documentation (and the majority of the people I work with) have German as a native language. And as many of us already know, English and German are very different in many ways.

One very noticeable difference (and one of the tell-tale signs of a native German speaker) is the passive voice. Many German speakers seem to love the passive voice and use it with intense abandon (busily obscuring meaning and evading responsibility for actions carried out). The English language, however, loves action (think Marlboro Man) and doesn’t really lend itself to passive sentences. It is generally much more effective if used actively.

So, what’s the difference between the active and the passive voice, you might ask.

Well, verbs are either active (The president of the supervisory board approved the new hand book.) or passive (The new hand book was approved by the president of the supervisory board.).
In the active voice, the subject and verb relationship is clear and logical: the subject carries out the action.
In the passive voice, the subject of the sentence is acted upon by some other agent, or by something unnamed (The hand book was approved).

It is generally accepted that the subject should indeed carry out the action. It simply makes everything more, well, active (for lack of a better word).

Seen like this, presidents should approve hand books, but hand books should not be approved.

Having said that, and after frightening the passive voice out of all you, the passive voice is not always negative per se, and occasionally does have its purposes (albeit not as often as in German). 
It can be very useful, for example, if:
1) It is more important to draw the reader’s attention to the person or thing acted upon: The offices were broken into in the middle of the night.
2) The subject (or actor) in the situation is not important: The new risk guidelines can be found in intranet.

Here’s a post,  and here, and here, and here a bit of an explanation - all to help you get an idea of how to avoid the unnecessary use of the passive voice.

Now go out and be active!

Easy English

I was surfing through internet this morning and got to thinking about one of my very favorite pastimes - proof reading (c’mon, everybody has his own little quirk).

Most of the texts I get to proof have been written by native German speakers and should ultimately sound as if they came from native English speakers. That isn’t always possible, so let’s just say that that is the über-goal of most proof reading activities, but often I’ll settle for understandable, readable and less complex than the writer originally planned.

And German speakers are a highly complex bunch. Endlessly long sentences, relative clause heaped upon relative clause and stacks of nouns long enough to challenge any check out counter on December 24 (continuous production improvement project committee report, just to give you an idea of what I mean). The passive voice is to be used by all who write, successfully obscuring the subject of a given action to anyone, even those tenacious enough to read to the end of the sentence. And those most persistent readers, when finally reaching the end of a long and winding sentence, will often unexpectedly find that active verb they would have enjoyed (and understood) at the beginning of the sentence.

Whew.

We English speakers are different. We don’t pride ourselves in being able to create long, complex sentences. We have no innate love of unpronounceable compound nouns. We derive no pleasure from seeing our readers valiantly seeking verbs at the end of our sentences or watching them wade through rows upon rows of related and unrelated clauses.

Nope.
We’re a simple lot.
We do best with short, active sentences.
We get to the point.
We say it and get it over with.

We write reports. Seldom do we recapitulate the results of projects in written form. We validate findings. We usually don’t convince ourselves of the integrity of disclosed outcomes. We trash things. We rarely dispose of things in the receptacle set aside for that purpose.

Well, enough of that. Here’s what Charlotte has to say about her editing (and children) woes. I suppose I should try drowning my editing problems in a mug of warm milk too (without the addition of sweet, pleasing honey and instead go for four fingers of cognac).

Free Rice

freerice1.jpg 

My now Canadian friend Petra sent me a great link that I’d like to share. It’s all about learning English and preventing hunger.

It’s a great way to increase your vocabulary, and at the same time, fight hunger.

The way it works is that it starts giving you words at different levels and then assigns you a starting level according to what you knew and what you didn’t know. Your level adjusts as you play. If you get a word wrong, you go down a level; if you get three words right, you go up a level. I’d tell you my level, but naturally, I don’t want to ruin anybody’s fun. ;-)

Where does the rice part come in?

Well, by playing the vocabulary game you earn rice, 10 grains at a time. The rice is paid for by the advertisers at the bottom of the vocabulary page. The rice itself is distributed by the United Nations World Food Program, which is the world’s largest food aid agency. FreeRice itself runs the website on a non-profit basis.

According to the FAQs, 25,000 people die of hunger or hunger related causes each and every day, most of them children. So, by playing the vocabulary game and trying to beat my level (which is much higher than you can imagine), you can help millions of volunteers fight to end world hunger (although I certainly do not want to insinuate that by merely playing this game you are doing your part - that would be wildly naive and downright wrong). 

And, seen from a terribly practical side, you can improve your chances of not writing a letter like Gorbach’s (sadistic guffawing in the background).

Let me know what level you reach … (and yes, I also mean you, Nikk)

Does the name Dr. Seuss ring a bell? Many of us grew up with his books. How about The Cat in the Hat, or maybe Horten Hears a Who(down in Whosville, if I remember correctly), Green Eggs and Ham (Sam I am), or How the Grinch Stole Christmas

He was great - although now that I’m older I think he must have been on something to come up with those texts. But on the other hand, it’s hard to be creative with a vocabulary of no more than 220 words.  Hmmm, come to think of it, most people learning a foreign language have similar problems, but that’s a completely different can of worms…

There is a point to this all, and that’s this poem, A Grandchild’s Guide to Using Grampa’s Computer, written by Gene Ziegler. It’s enjoyable, and almost everybody has heard or read parts of it already, but here is the whole kit and kaboodle.

Read and enjoy!

“Wait here for the present.”, said the woman to the child, and left for a moment, hoping the child would wait quietly while she called a taxi to take them home. 
“Wow! I wonder what I’m getting.”, pondered the child, considering all the wonderful things she could expect.

Presently, the woman returned; with empty hands. The child presented her with a disappointed look.

“So, where is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“My gift.”
“What gift?”
“The gift I was waiting for.”
“You were waiting for a gift?”
“Yeah, you promised me one!”
“I never promised you anything.”

Liar.

Have you ever stumbled over time? I mean, have you ever not understood when something is happening?

Wait, let me make this easier. Try this out, “The movie starts at 19:30.”
When? Excuse me?

One of my major confusions after coming to Austria was (and often still is) the time. I was always used to the am/pm system (here explained by Adrian) - and it suited me just fine, thank you. But after coming here I had to learn to understand (and sometimes use) the 24 hour clock.

It sounds easy - and it is - until you need it quickly in conversation. Then I get all confused and stressed and generally can’t figure it out anymore. The am/pm system just seems easier (and more intuitive) to me, because that’s what’s on the clock (old fashion non-digital ones).

Hmmm, learning a foreign language is a lot more than just a bunch of new words, it seems.

Seems our ex vice-chancellor (Hubert Gorbach, for those who don’t remember who I mean) is looking for new challenges, now that he has none in Austria.

News channels report that he sent a letter to Alistair Darling - looking (or not) for something interesting to do, because … the world in Vorarlberg is too small for him (and for most others too, I’d imagine).

I can almost understand him. Must have been downright exciting being the right hand man of our dear friend JH, and in comparison, it must be pretty boring now, sitting around in that little alpine world, looking for fun and finding none.

Wasn’t a bad idea, either. If you can’t find what you’re looking for at home, then set your sights on more global goals.
Go international!
Put on your traveling shoes and join the world!

Unfortunately for his job prospects, his letter looked like this.

Gorby’s Letter

I don’t want to rag on his politics, but his English certainly has room for improvement.

Oh well. Looks like he’s staying in Vorarlberg anyway for the time being.

Bing’s at it again, the ol’ grammar freak.

I know what he means, because there are some very strange things in the English language. One of them is the difference between they’re, there and their. It’s not hard in conversation, but boy can it get confusing when you have to write it down.

They’re is a contraction of “they are”. It means “they are” and nothing else, as in “They’re a bunch of crazy people”.

There is the opposite of here, as in “The book is over there“; or refers to a place, point or stage, as in “He went there after work” or “There is where I disagree with your statement”; or is used to express satisfaction, approval or sympathy, as in “There, I’m finished” or “There, there. Don’t cry”. 

Their refers to possession, as in “They took their work home with them”, or “Is that their new office?”. 

Consequently, the following must be correct:
There, there, fair bear. Their rare pears are over there on their chair. They’re fair, those pears; but they’re not meant for fare. They’re meant to stay there, on their chair, those rare pears. There, there, fair bear.”

I was just sitting here sort of minding my own business, thinking about some really irritating words (ahh,  the distractible minds of the clinically bored) and I noticed that this morning’s kitty-breakfast may have affected the immediate well-being of The Cat. I heard a strange noise behind me and saw that the kitty-kibble had successfully effected an escape from The Cat.

This had an almost simultaneous effect on my personal well-being and this morning’s non-kitty-breakfast effected a near-escape onto the keyboard of my laptop. (This effect would not have created a Nice Moment.) I effectively thwarted the need to visually appraise the effects of my digestion and jumped for the paper towels.

The Cat was faster and had already dashed into the hall where she continued to effectively deposit more kitty-kibble onto the floor, this time onto the rug. This affected my speed positively. I hurtled my body into the hall, armed with the paper towels, making wiping motions as I ran.

This effectively frightened The Cat, who was already not well. The effect was dramatic and somewhat disturbing. I had effectively effected an exodus of nearly all the cat-contents out the various orifices of The Cat.

thecat1.jpg 

After a time, The Cat and I met again in the bathroom.

We had both effectively calmed our digestive systems and our nerves. The Cat had once again effectively affected her usual kiss-my-ass casual attitude and I had successfully effected a removal of all the vile effects of said kitty-breakfast.

The Cat effectively gave me her I’m-going-to-pee-in-your-most-expensive-shoes-look and effected her exit. Oh, the joys of being afflicted with feline affection.

Have you read Bing lately? I like Bing. He sees himself sometimes as sort of a grammar-cop or language-trooper, as it were. One of his favorite topics seems to be scary trends in the world of grammar.
Now, maybe grammar isn’t one of your favorite topics, but Bing can really get into it.

Like I said, I like Bing. I can relate to his troubles. I have language pet peeves too.

One of my absolute favorites goes like this: (sign in a shop window) Closed on Sunday’s. Here’s another one (in case the first looked okay to you):  (another sign) Dog’s not allowed.

Does this bother you at all? It makes me go nuts.

Okay, okay,  I can hear what you’re thinking - Austria is a German speaking country. What can you expect. These people are not native English speakers.
True enough. But consider  this - I didn’t see these signs here (I admit, the closed on Sunday sign smacks of Austria, but the dogs not allowed sign,  never.) I saw these signs in the USA.

What’s with you guys?  Hey, my grammar isn’t perfect either, but this is definitely not a Good Thing.

The real problem is that this apostrophe-trend quickly crossed the ocean and set up house-keeping here, where people still nap after lunch and cows have purple spots.

Now everybody’s into it. We have ponie’s at the barn, they sell hotdog’s down at the Würstlstand and Corona’s at the bar down on shoe-shop road.
It’s an epidemic. And I’m scared.

Of course, I really shouldn’t complain. This trend helps keep me and my horses in oats.


No comment.
(This should get me lots of business…)