It saddens me to read the many errors in grammar on Facebook (and other sites as well.) So many words are misspelled, the wrong words are used. And it is mostly adults doing the writing.
What happened to the ability to correctly spell the words that make up our language ? Is it a simple case of being in a hurry and not caring about proper usage and spelling? I suspect some words are misspelled because the writer doesn’t know the correct spelling. It’s true, sometimes they don’t care, and that’s a shame. What happens when the writer is asked to write an intelligent letter (a resume) or a report for school. College professors are appalled at the lack of ability to spell and use words properly of students "graduating" from high School. I don’t think this is entirely the writer’s fault. I think poor spellers had a lot of help becoming poor spellers. It may have happened like this:
My pal Red State Louie and I were indulging in adult beverages at a patio table at the Golden Gulp and Glug Cocktail Joint in Washington, D.C. We were quietly discussing the political conventions, as were many around us. Politics was in the air!
We were marveling at how easily liberals accept HRC’s excuses for losing the election she was supposed to have won by a landslide. Suddenly, down the street came our barely bearable buddy Pud Politico, a real honest-to-gosh liberal hack. Pud wore a jokers-style hat and vest, checkerboard pants that he thought were the coolest thing around. He was strumming his lips as he rode in on a skate board, mumbling “Hillary’s Great, Hillary’s Great.” He kicked the board up into his hand and dismounted, a stupid grin stretching his features into a “Gotcha” look. He tucked the board under his arm and flopped down in a chair at our table.
“That Hillary’s great, ain’t she?” he asked no one in particular. “Wow, what a woman, huh, Newshawk?”
“Are we talking about the same person, Pud?”
“Yeah, the woman who should be president, you know the one.”
“Yep, the one who looks and speaks like she wakes up with a bad taste in her mouth every morning.”
“She’d be a great president. Did you hear her concession speech? Hillary would have made life better for everybody.”
“Pud,” said Red State Louie, “all her campaign rhetoric was the same stuff the Democrats have been promising in every election for at least the past 50 years. More jobs, lower taxes, better healthcare, fix the education system, national security. Yadda, yadda. But there’s been no change.”
“Yep. Yep, that’s right. Democrats are good at promising …” Pud’s eyes were bugging out now as his excitement grew.
“And doing nothing. Liberals have been promising black people a leg up for years – but have never delivered.”
“Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah!,” sputtered Pud. “Why do they keep voting for Democrats then, huh?” This last in the same childish manner of a fourth-grader. We were surprised he didn’t stick his tongue out at us.
“I dunno. It’s obvious the libs have no plans to help blacks – or anyone else, for that matter. If they were they could have made huge changes for the better in the past eight years. Instead, they’ve made everything – and I mean everything – much worse,” I said.
“Yep,” drawled Red State, “healthcare’s a disaster. The economy, no matter how many times they lie about how good it is, is in the tank, and our education system went from being among the best in the world to pretty durn bad.”
“Mister, oh, mister,” called a young woman sitting at the next table over. “Aren’t you the Newshawk?”
“Would you mind answering a question for me.”
“If I can.”
“In Mrs. Clinton’s speech she spoke briefly about an incident that happened in Philadelphia many years ago. It sounded very important, but I don’t remember hearing about in school. It started with an R, I believe.”
“An important historical event that started with an R?”
“How about the Renaissance?” suggested Red State.
“No, that wasn’t it,” replied the girl.
“Thur was a French explorer named sumthing-or-other Radisson who trapped fur in Canada at one time,” mused Pud. “They named a string of hotels after him – big ones, too,” wiping his nose on his sleeve.
“How about retarded,” I suggested, nodding toward Politico.
“Reconstruction, perhaps,” said Red State.
“Or redistribution. We’ve seen quite a bit if that lately.”
“No, it had a V in it. Rev, something, I think.”
“Oh,” says Red State perking up. “You mean the Revolution. The American Revolution.”
“The what?” asked the girl, her faced wrinkled in an ’I don’t know what you’re taking about’ way.
“The American Revolution was a war fought here in the United States. Americans were fighting England for their independence and ultimately their – and our – freedom.”
“We had to fight for our freedom?” she asked, taken aback by the idea. “Wow. That’s cool. That makes it so much more precious than just having it. But my dad says we’re losing our freedom.”
“Freedom. Fiddlesticks. Now you’re gonna blame liberals for losing our freedom. Ain’t ya?”
“Just what do you think political correctness is all about,” I asked.
“PC is cool, man. Gives you control over people.”
The girl, looking sad, asked, “Why didn’t I learn about the American Revolution in school?”
“The education establishment, owned and operated by democrats, elected to deprive grade school and high school students an awareness of their heritage. It’s much easier to turn young minds against their country when they have no knowledge of it or pride in it,” I explained.
“To bad you and others your age couldn’t sue government agencies involved in stealing your education, but they would never allow it.”
The sad young woman looked around as if lost, then asked, “What can I do?”
Red State and I thought for a minute, then shrugged.