The Flu or Like the Flu?

Flu symptoms include fever, cough, sore throat, runny or stuffy nose, headache, muscle aches, and extreme fatigue.

Then what are “flu-like symptoms”? Well, they would include a fever, but not really; a sore throat, but not really, a headache, but not really, etc.

The day Rudy Giuliani had his jet turn around so he could check into the most local hospital with his “flu-like symptoms,” I had a migraine accompanied by symptoms of the flu. So did thousands of other people across the country. It never occurred to me to call a doctor or check in to a hospital or try to turn a plane around. I called in sick, put an icepack on my head, and waited for the pain to go away.

Okay, we all know there’s no real equality. Planes turn around for the rich, the popular, and ex-mayors of major cities who happen to be running for president; and hospitals have special entrance doors for the same people, which means that hospitals are not unlike night clubs.

I guess the difference between a flu symptom and a flu-like symptom lies in the diagnosis; that is, if the patient indeed has the flu, they’re flu symptoms, but if it turns out that the patient has a different illness, the symptoms are flu-like. That means, Giuliani didn’t have the flu. He had something far more exotic or dire or dull.

He’s not my problem, though. He would be my problem if he became President of the USA, but that’s unlikely. Giuliani has too many Napoleonic qualities; too Bushy. Oh, dear; and then there’s the wife.

Once again, I have to ask why news reporters all used the same phrase “flu-like symptoms” instead of hunting down specifics. I flipped channels; I checked the online newspapers; I listened to the radio. Every reporter used the same phrase: “flu-like symptoms” (although the NY Times used the two terms interchangeably).

Come on; we all know that “flu-like” is a euphemism for “hangover” just as “exhaustion” is a euphemistic way of saying "overdose." We need a new crop of reporters; and, since that’s not going to happen, how about a less mysterious set of euphemisms?

Close Encounters of the News Guy Kind

The other day, I heard the same term in reference to a near accident involving two planes on a runway—"close encounter." Yes, “two planes had a close encounter on the runway.” Indeed, I heard the expression at least fifty times in the space of thirty minutes on almost every news show.

And, of course, I had to wonder if the close encounter was of an extraterrestrial nature. It wasn't. So, I ran to my personal bible—the Oxford English Dictionary—to check on the term. Sure enough, a close encounter is defined as "a supposed encounter with a UFO or extraterrestrial." And a close encounter of the first, second, etc., kind involves "increasing degrees of complexity and apparent exposure of the witness to aliens."

So, what happened on the runway should have been a "close call," a "near miss" or, more accurately, a "near collision.” But, I guess the copywriters decided it was time dip into the science-fiction genre, you know, to give the copy a bit of pizzazz. So, planes that almost come into contact on the runway or in the air are now "close encounters." It wouldn't have mattered if only one newscaster had used the term, but every single one of them on every single news program—that's just too much to bear.

I do pick on the news media—especially broadcast news—because it's so proud of its vapidity. I must, however, admit that I’m almost impressed by how rapidly slanted or incorrect usage whips through the pipelines. There must be lexicon spies out there. “Ooooh, that’s cool. ‘Close encounter.’ Hey, let’s use that one, too. It’s so, well, fresh.”

Actor Wanted--Blond, Buxom, Bawdy

Suddenly, women who act for a living are calling themselves “actors,” an appellation that distresses me for some of the same reasons the word “guy” when referring to women distresses me.

Is this what that women’s movement during the 1970s was all about? So, we could give up taking men’s names in marriage, but snag them for use in other areas of our lives?

Once, a young man—obviously not too sure of himself—flew into a fit of apoplexy when I announced that “gals”—not “guys”—was now the generic term for men and women. I suppose if we decided that “actress” was now the generic term for men and women who act for a living, more than one young man would sputter and spit with rage.

Yes, I know, the term “actor” has been adopted by women who take their thespian skills seriously and want the world to look upon them as professionals worthy of their salaries. They regard the –ss suffix as demeaning because of its history. After all, it used to mean “wife of,” and so I quite understand the dilemma they face in associating themselves with such a tag. I simply don’t understand why women always have to assume a masculine label.

Indeed, in terms of stage and screen, the lexical pickings are slim. I guess “player” isn’t a good alternative, since it has been taken over by former rogues and Don Juans. “Performer” is out, since a performer is usually a singer or dancer. “Thespian” is too evocative of high-school theater clubs; “trouper” is way too reminiscent of troubadours and traveling; “role player” is too loaded with lying and psychology. How about “theatrician”? No. Sounds too much like electrician.

If we can’t come up with a more appropriate word than “actor” for women performers, how about calling everyone who acts on stage and screen an “actoresse”? (We’ll keep the –or in actor to make it easier for men to accept the transition to gender-designation freedom.) “Esse” means “nature” or “essence.” So, an actoresse—pronounced ak-tor-es-seh), is a person who is the very essence of acting.

From or For or In Bed: He's Still Indicted

Last week, in reporting the same tired story over and over and over again, television reporters on every single English-language news channel repeated the phrase “he was indicted from his hospital bed” at least a thousand times within the space of an hour.

The phrase bothered me for three reasons.

First, its very repetition was a cruel aural punishment. Do television reporters meet on a weekly basis at their teeth-polishing salons and decide on a catchphrase of the week?

Second, the person who was “indicted” from his hospital bed was in a mental institution. Why would he have been in bed?

Third, I’m not so sure one can be indicted from anywhere. After all, one is never from court.

So I went on a little etymological hunt.

When one is indicted, one is arraigned, or accused. So, if one is, in fact, lying in a hospital bed when the judge and lawyers enter the room, they will proceed to indict him in his hospital bed.

But, that sounds a little strange, because it might suggest that everyone got into bed with him for the indictment. So, to safeguard against such misinterpretation, television writers changed the active indict to a passive to be indicted: “Mr. Alleged Perpetrator was indicted in his hospital bed.”

What we never find out is what Mr. A.P. was indicted for. But, I guess there’s definite ambiguity in “Mr. Alleged Perpetrator was indicted for murder in his hospital bed.”

Did he murder someone in his hospital bed?

So some bright copywriter or copyeditor came up with the idea of using a different preposition—from—to act as a clarifier, or dis-ambiguizer. However, because we never would say, “Mr. Alleged Perpetrator was indicted for murder from court,” it doesn’t work.

It’s a lexical mess, and had the newscasters not repeated the phrase so many times on one day, I probably wouldn’t have considered the matter, well, indictable. They might have agreed on something like: “Mr. Alleged Perpetrator was in his hospital bed when prosecutors indicted him for murder.”

But, they didn’t.

I still don’t understand, though, why he was in bed in the first place. Was it the middle of the night?

Hypercorrections and Whomever

If you’re not sure whether to use who or whom and their sisters whoever or whomever, look for the subject of the clause. Take a look at the following sentences.

1. Until they change their policy, I will continue to write nasty letters to whoever is in charge of the company.
   
   Until they change their policy, / I will continue to write nasty letters to / whoever is in charge of the company.
   
   
2. Until they change their policy, I will continue to write nasty letters to whomever I please.
   
   Until they change their policy, / I will continue to write nasty letters to / whomever I please.
   

In the first sentence, “whoever” is the subject of the clause. Why? Because “whoever” is “in charge.” Specifically, “whoever” is the subject of the linking verb, "is."

In the second sentence, “whomever” isn’t doing anything other than receiving my action of writing.

Try googling “whomever” and you’ll find an abundance of writers who heartily wish to sound oh so correct, yet fall into the cruel embrace of that most insidious of grammatical monsters, hypercorrectness.

Or, if you prefer clarity with a touch of humor, buy a copy of the Princeton Review’s Grammar Smart, one of my favorite books of all time. I’d love to meet whoever wrote this un-dried-out, un-fuddy-duddy guide to maneuvering the grammar maze.

Its target audience?

The book is for whoever shuts down at the mere mention of grammar, whoever learned to hate grammar in high school—which makes you ancient, for its been a long time since grammar fell victim to intellectual downsizing—and whoever thinks grammar has all the appeal of a visit to a dentist who doesn’t believe in Novocain or happy gas.

Television News: All the News That’s Fit to Slant

Yesterday’s television headline and scroll bar blurb: "Mother Dies in Airport Jail Cell. "

It turns out that this unfortunate “mother” was the daughter-in-law of someone famous. In addition, according to news reports, she was mentally ill and had had a history of substance intoxication. I have no idea if the 45-year-old woman had ever worked; nor do I know the ages of her children or if she lived with them or why she was traveling alone in her condition.

I know that she was a mother. And, mother is a word packed with explosives.

So, naturally, I wondered: Had this woman had been a man who died under similar conditions, would the headlines and scroll bars have read: “Father Dies in Airport Jail Cell?”

Of course not. A man would have been a man or a profession.

Okay, perhaps motherhood was this woman’s fulltime occupation. But, if you throw yourself into the embrace of a substance, isn’t that substance your new fulltime occupation?

Here are a few more factual possibilities:

“Drug Addict Dies in Airport Jail.”
“Recuperating Drug Addict Dies in Airport Jail.”
“Mentally Ill Woman Dies in Airport Jail.”
“Forty-Five-Year-Old Woman Dies in Airport Jail.”
“Angry Woman Dies in Airport Jail.”
Or
“Woman Dies in Airport Jail.”

Alright Is All Right by Me

Fighting about all right and alright? Kiss and make up. I’m here to help.

A huffy and angry Warriner in English Composition and Grammar (1988) warns, “There is no such word as alright.”

Harrumph. So there. It doesn’t exist.

Yeah, but, everyone’s writing it that way.

Let’s check another source, this one from 1998. My rock Gardener (who has never once thanked me for all the accolades I throw in his direction) proclaims: “Alright for all right has never been accepted as standard in AmE. Still, the one-word spelling may be coming into acceptance in BrE.”

Oh, dear. The master might lose his adoring student (that’s me) over this matter. So, off I run to the Oxford English Dictionary and, sure enough, the Brits are not at all put off by alright. However, they do direct the seeker as follows: “Adjective, adverb & noun. See all right.”

Oxford adds, “The spelling alright is often considered erroneous, but cf. analogous already, although, etc.”

And so I do.

I think it’s all right to allow alright to fly free. I know this is the right decision, because MS Word’s grammar check doesn’t put a cautionary red line under the word. Mind you, you're hearing this from a prescriptivist. (MS Word doesn't approve the word prescriptivist.)

Elderly Is a Bowed Back

On this morning’s news, I was shocked and dismayed to hear that a 62-year-old “elderly woman” had been attacked in her own home!

Well, get over it, Joan. Mugging is a way of life among druggies, and non-druggies haven’t gotten fed up enough to fight back.

Yes, but if I get mugged after my next birthday next April, a news writer at my local television station will feel free to spit out the same headline: “Elderly Woman Mugged!”

Me? Elderly?

Help!

While Gardener believes that “[T]his adjective is a euphemism for aged or old” (Dictionary of Modern Usage, 242), I maintain that it suggests a certain degree of physical disintegration that bows the back, shrinks the skull, and elongates the ears. None of this has happened to me yet, so naturally I get a little shook up when I’m about to be labeled elderly. What can I do? Avoid getting mugged?

I wonder if the adjective would have applied if that unfortunate mugging victim had made television news with a more positive occurrence—say, winning the lottery or knocking out an opponent in a wrestling match. In that case, they’d probably call her feisty.

But, when I think about a few well known women who are around my age, I can’t imagine hearing them called “elderly”: Cher, Dolly Parton, Liza Minnelli, Jessye Norman. How about Jane Fonda and Martha Stewart? They’re even older. And, let’s not forget the oldest loud woman in the world, Joan Rivers.

So, elderly seems to be reserved for women without fame, money, or position who suffer from some sort of physical malady. Well, so far in life, I've managed to get by without meeting any of these requirements. Whew. Now I don't have to worry about being mugged.

Oprah, CNN: A Formerly Badly Picture of I & Lucy

Oprah, dearest, what's to be done about those lexical and grammatical flubs you toss so carelessly into the television airwaves? That’s not “a picture of Nelson Mandela and I”; it’s a picture of Nelson Mandela and me.

And, please don’t feel “badly” [sic] about messing up nominatives and objectives or adjectives and adverbs. Sure, the mess ups are badly done, but only about two people in the entire English-speaking world care. However, we two people feel bad, because people listen to you and, alas, copy you as well.

Oprah's not the only public person to commit grammatical misdemeanors. CNN commentators, who really should know better, have nothing on her. Last week, a CNN anchor—Jim Something—said that Fred Thompson had "formerly" announced that he was running for president. Formerly!

Worse, he referred to my beautiful Luciano Pavarotti as Lucy-ano Pavarotti! How could he have done that? In fact, he did it twice; then, someone must have kicked him under the table, for he suddenly began to pronounce his name correctly.

I'm telling you, television people do dreadful dark evils to English.

Her Is Fighting With He?

Is it possible? Could it be? I can’t absolutely confirm this, but, unless mine ears doth lie, I heard CNN news reporter Paul Steinhauser say in reference to Hillary Clinton, “Her and Barack Obama are fighting it out.” Tsk-tsk. (Really perplexing is the fact that Microsoft’s grammar checker doesn’t find fault with this construction.)

Horrified, I began to flick through the channels looking for grammar relief. But, I was in for one linguistic dismay after another.

1. From a morning newscaster: “It is now 6:15, or somethin’ like that.”
2. From another newscaster: “Heath Leger and Michelle Williams have split up.” (Not so much a grammar problem, but who are these people and why is this news?)
3. From yet another newsperson: “What a beach bummer for people in New Jersey.”
4. From someone selling a product: “I’m a very picky eater. All the things I was eating normal.” ( Microsoft’s grammar checker doesn’t find fault with this construction either.)
5. From another salesperson: “This is incredible, amazing, wonderful. This just blows you away.”
   

I hear a superheroine named "Word Girl” is now buzzing through the airwaves of children’s entertainment. Good luck, kid. Could you fly by CNN and give them a few pointers?

By the way, Microsoft Word’s Spellchecker approves of the word “superhero,” but draws a red line of warning under the word “superheroine."

Express Yourself: Erase Your Face

It’s true that we can convince people that black is white or hot is cold or fake is real. Lawyers do it for a living and get paid very well indeed for having developed this skill. “The video tape clearly shows that my client robbed the convenience store in self-defense,” claims the lawyer without cracking a smile. Even little kids—perhaps future lawyers or advertising executives—know how to manipulate language in order to transfer fact into the cloudy realm of reasonable doubt: “The dish got broke.” “The ball went into the window.”

All it takes is a little twisting of lexicon and syntax as well as an unwavering belief in one’s own version of what is real, and people do start to wonder if their heretofore grasp of reality is perhaps a little off-kilter. That’s why reality and illusion are always bumping into each other in courtrooms and advertising copy.

The latest lexical trick comes from the makers of Botox with their new advertising slogan, “Express yourself.”

In essence, they are telling us that they will stick needles in our faces to eradicate all those nasty facial expressions we’ve developed over the years, plump out our thought lines, polish away our life experiences, and turn us into expressionless clones of one another.

Sure, at first glance, you might not agree that wiping out your face’s ability to move is a way of expressing yourself. But, that’s because you’ve only heard it once or twice. After a few months of advertising, you’ll begin to understand why it’s impossible to express yourself with all those facial expressions getting in the way.

Alleged Perps & Crimes

Hypercorrection occurs when speakers pockmark a language with misapplied rules of grammar, pronunciation, semantics, syntax, etc. They’re just trying to do the right thing, and it gets them all twisted up. That’s why you’ll hear people say things such as, “He wants to speak to you and I [sic]” or “I pledge allegiance … to the Republic for Richard Stands” [really sic, but true] or “I thank whomever is responsible” [super sic].

Political hypercorrection is an extension of linguistic hypercorrection, and I hear it almost daily on my trusty local and national news shows. (I don’t hear it on international news programs, because broadcast companies in the USA don’t offer these. No one exists but us.) And, the hypercorrect word of the week is “alleged.”

Because we live in a society that (allegedly) defends the innocence of those accused of crimes until they are found guilty in a court of law—even if the crime is recorded on camera—we are morally and legally obligated to refer to the accused as “alleged” perpetrators; hence, we have alleged murderers, alleged robbers, alleged child molesters, and so on.

Lately, however, I’ve noticed newscasters referring to alleged crimes. “The alleged attack took place on Saturday night.” “The man was arrested for the alleged robbery.” And the implication-charged, “The alleged rape...”

Well, I protest. There’s no moral or legal reason to call a crime “alleged,” for that tag accuses the victim—or am I supposed to say alleged victim?—of lying, dramatizing, or using the legal system for dishonest purposes.

I often make fun of newscasters for their grammatical blunders, their giggling, their repetition of “you guys,” but it’s not all their fault, since they’re hired for the cut of their highlighted hair and impossibly white teeth, not for their writing or journalistic skills. News stations are in the business of money making, so I can’t really fault the producers.

However, I do fault the writers, who should know better. If there’s a body wrapped in duct tape decomposing under a tarp, it’s not an alleged murder. If there’s a video recording of a convenience-store robbery, it’s not an alleged robbery. It really happened, people.

Yo, television writers! Here’s a project for you. Every day, just once a day, and you can have weekends off, open any grammar book at random and let your finger drop to the page. Then read one or two sentences about the structure of your language. If you do this five days a week for a year, just think of the possibilities!

It’s not politically incorrect for you to create clear copy so that newscasters can speak on a higher than elementary-school level.

Oh, dear. Perhaps it is. (I gotta get with it.)

Literally Malapropary

John Gardner’s Dictionary of Modern Usage lists a series of “vogue words” (pg.682) that include expressions such as bottom line and lifestyle and worst-case scenario” In fact, he could have extended the list to include a few hundred additional lexical trendyisms. I mean if we dialogue in any given environment, we’d all interface in a meaningful way, right? It’s a no-brainer, a win-win situation whose parameters would resonate with a synergy that would definitely impact our cutting-edge society in a constructive way.

Darn! He didn’t include literally on the list. Oh, well. I’ll just fill that one in here. And, now, fresh from the medium of television, some literally unliteral lexical malapropisms:

When I heard the news, it literally blew my mind. (And yet she continues to sit up and speak.)

It’s a literal can of worms. (In Washington? Okay, maybe it is.)

Looking out over the desert, it’s a literal ocean of sand. (Well, I guess this could pass as a metaphor; but, I say an ocean should remain an ocean and a desert should remain a desert.)

The crowd was silent, literally crying, “Foul!” (Some trick.)

He’s so awesome, I was like literally dying. (And then what happened?)

“There’s a pool of blood under the tarp literally covering the body.” (Those tarps are always so literal.)

The audience literally walked out of the auditorium. (How would you suggest that they walk out?)

Why don't I avoid regular television programming? (Literally speaking, of course.)

I Sanction That: Or Do I?

A friend of mine resents the confounding ambiguity of the word “sanction.”

“Well, just avoid using the word,” I suggest. No, that’s not reasonable. He wants to find the guilty party who started this mess.

So, I promise to do a little research on the matter. All the word-history websites offer the same explanation, verbatim, and without references, so I won’t repeat it here. In my own words, this is the sad little story.

Let’s start with our lexical stepmother and a very kind one at that—Latin. “Sanction” comes from the Latin sancio (sacire sanxi sanctum), meaning “to consecrate or make hallow by a religious act” (Cassell’s Latin Dictionary). According to The Free Dictionary online, the first use of “sanction” appears in the 1500s, but try as I might, I couldn’t find the actual quotation. However, it was used in reference to “law,” or “decree.”

Evidently, during the 100 years or so that followed, the word did a little twisting and turning and came to refer to “the penalty enacted to cause one to obey a law or decree” (cf the Free Dictionary, which gives no references, so who knows how true this is).

Since we get most of our lexicon—that is, our classy lexicon, our big words—directly from French rather than indirectly from Latin, I went hunting on the Web for current French usage and discovered a conference titled “Sanctionner sans punir” (to sanction without punishment), which means the French use “sanction” to mean “to prohibit. An article in a French journal is titled “Il faut sanctionner le négationnisme.” Again, the word is used to mean “prohibit.”

I skimmed numerous French-language blogs in which "sanction" was synonymous with "prohibit" and was about to close the book on the matter when ambiguity showed its tragicomic face in a reference to Robespierre, which translates as follows: “Robespierre never sanctioned the French Revolution.”

Well, did he or didn’t he? I need a good historian to answer that one. As one of its leaders, he certainly wasn’t against it, but since he first profited by it and then lost his head to it, I don’t know whether he neglected to prohibit it or neglected to give it his okay. Alas. So the French have the same problem. So do the Italians with “sanzione.” Sere can we lay the blame?

Well, we all know what happens when lawyers get their claws into language. They spin it and twirl it and create all sorts of knots that leave the rest of us in a state of confusion too much to bear. So, we give up and let the lawyers have their way with us and with our language. My theory is that sanction, originally a clear little noun to mean a law sanctified by the church or some religious order, became clouded after it was turned into a verb by all those fancy sycophants who hang around government buildings and make their living playing with language in order to protect their guilty clients from evil truth—lawyers. And, since we can’t beat them at this game, my advice stands: simply refuse to use the word.

The touch of irony here is that my friend has no problem using the expression “you guys” when he’s talking to groups of men and women. I always have to ask him if he’s talking to the women as well as to the men. And he thinks I go too far and should “get a life,” a remark I consider unsanctionable.

Diction, My Dear. Diction.

I still haven’t figured out how to shrug and walk away when I’m surprised by little linguistic thuds dropped by people who should know better. It’s okay if regular folks commit grammatical and lexical sins. In fact, I like the way their lexical and grammatical diversions stretch the language, make it more alive, more touchable, more powerful even.

But when newscasters say things like, “he paid the ultimate sacrifice” (one sacrifices; one doesn’t pay a sacrifice) or “there’s [sic] 300 people outside the studio,” I can’t help but squirm. I mean, it’s bad enough that they can’t stop calling one another “guys.” When I hear teachers slip up on Grammar 101 in front of their students with remarks such as “He wants to see you and I [sic] in the office” or “I feel badly [sic],” it’s all I can do not to correct them. My friend Peter can say “I feel badly,” because he knows better, and he likes to work at sounding not quite as brilliant as he is. Other people can say it, too. But not teachers. Not newscasters. And, not even talk show hosts.

Most annoying of all are the writers—and not just the immature bloggers who are trying to sound all grown up and trendy—who smudge their copy with words such as “totally” and “awesome” and “f---ing.” I couldn’t bring myself to write that last word.

It’s easy writing. And, like a fill-in-the-numbers painting, it’s boring.

There, I feel all vented.

Train Wrecks among the Pop Stars

The phrase of the week among newscasters is “train wreck.” I counted eleven “train wrecks” in one six-minute segment of a news program yesterday. I think it started with the alleged crazy astronaut in diapers and then, of course, quickly switched to Anna Nicole, who was soon upstaged by the Brittney buzz cut. In between, we were treated to numerous references to other pop stars in and out of jail (and rehab) for drunken driving or drug-induced ticks—all of whom earned the adjectival “train wreck” or “train wreck waiting to happen.”

Can’t they stop? No, not the train wrecks. I really don’t care about them, although I’m beginning to wonder if “train wrecks” only reference females. I’m referring to the newscasters who spend weeks or months stomping the same horrible phrases into linguistic dust.

The Daily Show recently highlighted the use of “embolden” among politicians. I think someone taught Bush the big word and told him to start using it. I’m sure he practiced pronouncing it for many minutes before trying it in front of the news camera. Pleased with this new word, he used it over and over and over and over until all his cronies picked it up and “ran with it.”

I’ve got to stop listening to the news.

Ineffective/Ineffectual: Fraternal Twins

This morning, I heard a weathercaster on the CBS morning news say that the salt used to melt the ice in the streets was ineffectual. What? Didn’t he mean ineffective? Since most newscasters trip over their tongues trying to sound correct, I ran to my trusty Garner and the OED, just to be sure.

If something is ineffective, it means it has a low degree of success. So, the salt dumped on city streets by the NYC Dept. of Sanitation did melt some ice, but it didn’t melt it completely. It was only somewhat effective, because it didn’t produce the desired result, which was a100-percent ice melt.

Ineffectual is not the same as ineffective. “Ineffectual usually describes a person . . . ,” writes Garner. If our weathercaster had wanted to say mean things about the salt-truck drivers, he could have said they were ineffectual spreaders of salt, but I’m sure that’s not what he meant. Here’s the example in the OED: “”We spent a year . . . in a science class taken by an absurd and ineffectual master.”

Bryan A. Garner comes through once again. You should buy his book.

Active vs. Passive

Could you please give me an example of a passive-voice and an active-voice sentence?

Active: (This means the subject of the sentence does the action.)

The cook burned the dinner.

Passive: (This means an action is performed on the subject. In other words, the subject is passive.)

The dinner was ruined by the cook.

Bad Soup Badly Done

Do I feel bad or badly? Most people say they feel badly. I even heard Oprah say she felt badly. But I thought that wasn't correct.

It's okay to say you feel badly if, let's say, your fingers are all numb from the cold and you try without success to feel a relief map or read Braille. Then you can say you, or your numb fingers, feel badly, and you'd be correct.

In fact, "bad" is an adjective that modifies nouns and pronouns. It should be used with linking verbs such as feel, taste, all forms of be, smell, look. When it's used with linking verbs, it functions as a predicate adjective.

The soup tastes bad.

It smells bad, too.

I feel bad for you.

"Badly" is an adverb and modifies verbs.

The soup was badly made.

The bad smell comes from badly cooked soup.

It was very badly done, indeed.

Well DON'T HYPHENATE Meaning Advice

I've been wondering about hyphens for compound adjectives that aren't really compound adjectives. I think there are so many rules that it's too much to figure it out. So, I'll just give some examples that bother me, and maybe you can tell me what's up.

Healthy looking hair: I say no hyphen. What do you say?

Well meaning friend: I say no hyphen. What do you say?

I'm with you. But, there are rules of grammar and writing, there are house styles, and there are clashes between the two. Advertising firms are in love with the hyphen, God only knows why. But, then, advertisers are in the habit of turning many a grammar rule or beautifully written phrase into a gnarly mess and passing it off as hyper-correct.

My rule of thumb is to hyphenate adjectival compounds if the lack of a hyphen would cause confusion OR sometimes (and this is a killer) if I believe the reader expects there to be a hyphen and would be distracted by its absence.

But, here are two guidelines you might consider:

• Don't hyphenate adjectival compounds that contain an adverb ending in –ly.
• Don't hyphenate adjectival compounds when the first adjective is obviously not modifying the noun.

For example: "Healthy looking hair" should not be hyphenated because "healthy" isn't modifying "hair"; it's modifying "looking," which isn't even a descriptive adjective.

For the same reason, when you write "a well meaning friend," you don't need a hyphen, because no one will think you mean a friend who isn't ill.

These are the guidelines I follow, and I believe The Chicago Manual of Style has my back. However, there are many who would disagree with me. So, unless you're bound by the style choices of a particular company, choose the style that suits your sensibilities, and then stick to it.

Talk w/ Me, Not t/ Me?

Is there a rule for putting a space after "w/" when it represents the word "with"?

There's a space after the slash just as there's a space after every word. (But, why would you abbreviate a tiny little word like "with"?)
Is there a rule? I'd be hard pressed to find a specific rule in any of my style books, so logic wins over style.
T/ 4 rit/

De Facto: That's the Way It Is

What do they mean when they say "de facto segregation"?

De facto is the Latin term for "in fact" or "actually." So, de facto segregation is segregation that exists. De facto is the opposite of de jure (sometimes written de iure), which means by right or by law.

In this country, we have de jure integration (integration by law), but the truth is we're more likely to encounter areas that practice de facto segregation (segregation in actuality).

Taking Charge of Proactive

My teacher circled "proactive" in my paper. He says it's too trendy and I should find another word. Can you give me a good argument to throw back at him? —Pro Proactive

Dear PP,

Yes. And it comes, once again, from Garner. Had I not read Garner's justification for the word, I would have agreed with your teacher. I think one reason people don't like the word is because it was born in the towers of psycho-babble and bounced into the mumbo-lingo of corporate America and then onto the encrusted literary palettes of news commentators who have a tendency to speak in platitudinous circles (they don't realize it, but everyone else does).

Garner, however, says the word is "useful as an antonym of reactive." I'm afraid he's right.
Ask your teacher to come up for a synonym for proactive; the only adjective that comes close is "take-charge," as in, "He's a take-charge kind of guy." But, "take-charge" is also a relative neologism, which just about pushes it to into the field of trendiness.

My condolences to your teacher.

In Behalf of Your "On Behalf Of"

I just heard someone say "in behalf of" and it didn't make any sense. Isn't is supposed to be "on behalf of"?

Well, this one sent me to my special lingua hero, Bryan A Garner and his Dictionary of Modern American Usage. There is a difference. You didn't include the sentence that threw you for a loop, so I can't help you there; but, according to Garner, the expression, "in behalf of," means "in the interest of or for the benefit of." Frankly, I've rarely heard the expression and believe we're more likely to say "in the interest of" or simply "for."

An example would be:

The teacher worked overtime in behalf of her students' academic advancement.

The teacher worked overtime in the interest of [or for] her students' academic advancement.

"On behalf of," writes Garner, means "as the agent or representative of."

Lawyers usually speak on behalf of their clients; district attorneys usually speak on behalf of the State.

It's Still Money

Is it "petty cash" or "petit cash"? Why? Please answer soon. —Having a Petty Argument

Dear HPA,

According to the OED and a few editions of Webster's American, it's petty cash. Why? I guess because it would seem absurdly pretentious to write a lofty French petit next to a crass late-16^th-century English word (although both "petty" petit and "cash" caisse come from French). However, if you Google it, you'll find "petit cash."

Why Should I Care About this Stuff?

I've had three or four emails from people who've asked about a grammar point and then tagged the question with, "And why should I care?" or "Why should I know this stuff?" I thought about flipping a because-you-asked response back into their court, but it's a good question, and I wanted to give it some thought before responding.

First, perhaps you're one of the people who shouldn't care. If you're convinced that you're going to get through life quite well without having to impress anyone with the clarity of your writing or speech, then, to hell with it. After all, there are myriads of things I don't know, and somehow life is bearable all the same. I can't fix my car if it breaks down, unless it's something obvious like a loose spark plug or a stolen battery; I don't know how to rewire my house or find out where my cesspool is located (wait, yes I do) or speak Swahili or at least 5000 other languages; and I'm not sure what a logarithm is or how Einstein came up with E=MC² or if Sting is a person or a group.

But, knowing about language, its structures, rules, and idiosyncrasies is different from knowing about cars, cesspools, Swahili, and energy, because not everyone needs that knowledge more than once or twice in a lifetime. However, you use language every day. And if you don't know how language is structured, if you don't understand its components, you can't manipulate it with assurance and authority. Yes, you might be able to play a little ditty once in a while, but the results will be hit-and-miss at best.

Would I succeed in building a wood-frame house without knowing what a stud is? I guess I could do it by trial, error, and lots of luck, but I certainly wouldn't be aware of the all-important 16-inch-on-center rule. Can you write a letter without knowing what is meant by subject-verb or tense agreement? Of course you can. But, you might not realize that your subject is supposed to agree with your verb or that you're expressing very different ideas when you use a past imperfect verb rather than a present perfect. You'll get it right much of the time through instinct or luck, but you'll never be sure.

It's okay; the reader will probably understand it anyway, just as my house built without studs placed 16-inches on center will probably stand for a while, at least until the wind picks up. But, you won't get it right some of the time, which could prove disastrous if you're communicating via a business letter, cover letter, or love letter. "Darling, I was thinking about breaking up with you" conveys a different message from, "Darling, I thought about breaking up with you." In the first case, I'm poised for the break-up speech and trying to remember where I keep my plastic bags so I can pack your stuff up and throw it out the window. In the second case, I'm ready to forgive you since it's clear that your lapse was only temporary and you've decided you can't live without me.

Learning about grammar and the structure of language isn't about being able to recite the definition of a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, or prepositional phrase, just as building a house isn't about reciting the definition of a stud, header, foundation, or Phillips screwdriver. In learning the parts, your aim is to understand the whole. Learning about grammar will give you the tools necessary to wield power over your chief means of communication—speech and writing.

That's why you should care.

What an Idiom!

Does the word "idiom" have anything to do with the word "idiot"?

I guess it does if we take a giant step back in time. The prefix "idio" comes from Greek, meaning personal, private, distinct. In English, idiom refers to several things—1. the language spoken in a particular area, 2. an expression or phrase that has meaning only in that language ("you can't pull the wool over my eyes"), 3. a manner of expression that's peculiar to an individual. According to the Oxford Dictionary of Word Histories, English borrowed the word idiom from French, which took it from Latin, which took it from Greek. Before Greek? I don't know.

Idiot, on the other hand is from Middle English and referred to an ignorant person or a lowbrow, and it's had a long and successful run in Modern English as well. But, ME can't claim to have coined the word, for it came from Latin, which borrowed it from Greek.

So, although the two words have the same parents, they weren't conjoined at birth, and they seem to have taken very different roads in their etymological lives. After all, there's a major difference between "an idiomatic expression" and "an idiotic expression."

You're So Moody

What does mood mean? –Signed, In the Mood to Learn Grammar

Dear IMLG,

In life, you can—you must—experience many moods. You know them: bad mood, sad mood, mean mood, goofy mood, party mood, chocolate mood, great mood. Fortunately, in speaking and writing, there are only three moods, which makes speaking and writing easier than life. In fact, you might be able to get through many years of good clean living using only one mood—the indicative mood. But there are times, when the subjunctive and imperative moods come in handy, too.

The Indicative Mood

The indicative mood simply means that you are stating, or indicating, a fact.

The sky is falling.

Times Square sure has lots of bright lights.

I like to go rock climbing.

The Subjunctive Mood

If you happen to be a dreamer or a discontented person, you might spend hours talking and writing in nothing but the subjunctive mood. In this case, you'd be saying things that were contrary to fact or you'd be wishing life were better.

If only I were rich. [You're not rich. ] (Notice, it's "were," not "was.")

If he were nicer, I'd go out with him. [He's not nice.]

The teacher acts as though he were one of the kids. [The teacher is not one of the kids.]

May you be wiser. (Or, I wish you were wiser.)

The Imperative Mood

If you're very bossy, you could spend part of every day stomping around and barking orders. In such a case you'd have to rely on the imperative mood.

Sit down!

Get a life!

Fasten your seatbelt!

Let's go!

Thank you for the question.