I can’t help myself.

A reporter on All Things Considered tonight was discussing negotiations regarding the ongoing conflict in the Middle East.

She said, “The demands on both sides are polar opposites.”

I can’t help having a problem with this.

While folks on both sides of the aisle are appropriately reluctant to exploit Superstorm Sandy for political gain, I guess there’s no reason for me to avoid any potential advantage we might grab in terms of usage.

A friendly pundit pointed out on radio this morning that “There’s a silver lining in all of this devastation — both sides have been working together on the recovery efforts.”

This is so much more productive than only one side working together.

To me, the silver lining would be if Mr. Pundit had said, “the two sides are working together.”

(I love it when someone starts out a conversation that way: “True Story. . .”)

Listening to talk radio today.  The host was interviewing a civil rights attorney about an unfortunate incident involving the police.

The lawyer said, “The police department attempted to make an escape goat out of the victim.”

True story.

Sometimes, in my crazier moments, I get this feeling that people talk the way they do just to piss me off.

Just imagine, at one time in my life, I actually believed that “on” was the opposite of “off.”  Now it seems the two words, in oft-used constructions, have the same meaning.

Here’s what I’m talking about:  “The success of our team is based off of a strong defense.”

Or:  “I’m convinced we can improve off our production techniques.”

Or:  “The popularity of this process is built off of strong design.”

And finally, my current favorite:  “They thrive off being challenged.”

I read, on some blogs, that certain commentors see these uses as “idioms.”  If “idiom” means “used by some, but still wrong,” then fine.  I don’t think it does.

If my consternation at these uses makes me a strict constructionist or – shudder — a prescriptivist, then I accept the label(s) with gusto.

OK.  There was a spot today for some marketing strategy that some guy was hawking.  (Low-hanging fruit — I know.)

It went like this:  “This program works for new customers as well as for existing customers you already have today.”

“existing customers”

“you already have”

“today”

Honest.  I couldn’t make this stuff up.  I’ve heard of “artistic license.”  I guess now we have “advertising license.”

Hey, don’t you have to pass a test to get a license to drive a car?

Today, on “Morning Edition,” an NPR reporter opened a story with, “Japan and China normalized ties forty years ago.  And, in terms of economic relations, are literally joined at the hip.”

The words she used compelled visuals in me — body parts and maps.  I just couldn’t make it work.

I don’t know – shouldn’t we expect more of NPR?

“Instinctual” vs. “instinctive.”

Today, I heard someone on the radio use the word “instinctual.”  It’s another trendy word – we  hear it used more and more.  (See, also, “instinctually.”)

I looked it up.  “Instinctual,” alas, appears to be a legitimate word.  Several dictionaries suggest that “instinctual” and “instinctive” have the same meaning.  Others suggest subtle differences.  Frankly, it’s difficult to understand the distinctualization these sources are trying to present.

To me, “instinctual” just sounds more learned – read “haughty.”  Or, read “cool.”

Hence, I intuitually think one should use “instinctive.”  However, I’m totally down with one using “instinctual” if that one actually understands the difference.

Yet, perhaps the test should be this:  Does this person, who claims to understand the distinction, actually have both words in his personal vocabulary?

OK, isn’t Condoleezza Rice a perfesser at Stanford or something?

Last night, during her speech at the Republican National Convention, Condie offered up the following pronunciations (say these out loud for full effect):

ally:  uh-LIE

allies:  uh-LIES

scourge:  scorge, rhymed with “gorge.”

And, this one killed me – ingenuity:  AHN-zhuh-noo-i-tee (she must be Franch er somethin’)

Others I’ve heard the last few days — all from educated folks:

inundated:  in-NUN-day-ted

debacle:  rhymed with “the hackle”

divisive:  second and third syllable rhymed with “missive.”   This one’s all over the place.  (Look it up.  It’s “di-VIE-sive” — like from “divide,” not “division.”)

experiment:  ex-PEER-i-ment (Twice in the same speech.  It wasn’t inadvertent.  But, that’s OK.  This guy, who is an “evangelical,” pronounced it “EE-vuhn-gel-i-cuhl” [root word must be “even”] and claimed the current administration wanted us to “bow our knees .  .  .”  [rhymes with “how” — that kind of “bow”].)

Sorry if this is harsh.  I just realized — these are probably regionalisms.

Heinous.

We all know what it means.  It’s an adjective meaning “hateful, odious, abominable, evil, awful, reprehensible,” etc.  Like, “a heinous crime.”

Yet, there are a shocking number of incorrect pronunciations out there.

Like:  High-EE–nous, HEE–nous, high–AY–nous (as in “My Cousin Vinny”), and HAY–nee–ous (cf., e.g., “LAIR–nix”).

I write today because this morning I heard a veteran CBS reporter/interview show host come up with a new one:  “HIGH–nous.”

There is only one way to pronounce this word.  I was gratified to find the dictionaries confirm it:  “HAY–nous.”  Kinda rhymes with “grayness.”

To pronounce it any other way is a grave offense.

There is a difference between “purposely” and “purposefully.

“Purposely” is “intentionally” or “on purpose,” or perhaps, “deliberately.”  It is the opposite of “accidentally,” “by accident,” or “by mistake.”  Most of the time, “purposely” is the word you want.  Like, “Betty purposely used the incorrect word,” or, “He purposely left the door unlatched.”

“Purposefully,” while used increasingly frequently, is seldom used correctly.  Indeed, most of the time speakers use “purposefully,” they mean “purposely.”

“Purposefully” means “with determination,” or “resolutely,” or, “with a (particular) purpose in mind.”  Like, “He walked into the room purposefully, with fire in his eyes.”

I suspect that this is just another case of some people thinking that using one word, here “purposefully,” will make them sound smarter than using another, here “purposely.”  It is unfortunate that, while trying to sound erudite, they just sound ignorant.

In a recent comment to this blog, a friend reminded me about the confusion regarding the pronunciation of “forte .”  Is it “fort,” as in “port”?  Or is it “for-TAY”?

Seems the online dictionaries prefer it to rhyme with “sort,” but offer “for-TAY” as an alternate pronunciation when “forte” is used to mean “one’s strong suit.”  Like, “While he’s a great writer, grammar is not his forte.”

And, it appears that Kia, the car company, pronounces it that way (“for-TAY”) in its commercials for the Kia Forte.  But, considering how car companies make up words to name their cars, I guess this isn’t much help.  They might as well make up pronunciations too.

It appears that this is another situation where the dictionaries are following trends in pronunciation – which is only slightly less troubling than following trends in meaning.

Since the first two pronunciations in the dictionaries online rhyme with sport, I’m going to go with that.

Of one thing though, we may be sure.  “Cache” is a one-syllable word.  The pronunciation of “cache” is “kash,” like in “bash.”  It’s not “ca-SHAY,” like in “sashay.”

A “cache” is a ”hiding place,” a “collection,” or a “stash,” as in “a cache of weapons.”  And, there’s only one way to pronounce it correctly – it rhymes with “splash,” no matter how so many commentators on CNN pronounce it as though it were “cachet.”  As we all know, “cachet” is a “quality,” “status” or “feeling of distinction.”  Like:  “That restaurant used to be cool, but it has lost its cachet.”

I think this one started in the 1980’s, during the “foodie” period (I cringe whenever I hear this usage):

“I’d love to come to your dinner party.  What’s on the menu?”

“I am going to do a pork loin in pomegranate sauce, a nice salad with raspberry vinaigrette and some au gratin potatoes.”  (The “nice” is always in there somewhere.)

I don’t know, using the word “do” to mean “make” or prepare” (a dish) strikes me as overblown, presumptuous and pompous.  Maybe it was cool once, but now it just sounds assholian.

(Though, two of the three online dictionaries I checked say that “do” can be used to mean “make” or “prepare” [a food].)

Perhaps, when someone says, “Hold on, I have to shut the lights,” it’s just a “regionalism.”  Though, frankly, “regionalism” is usually just shorthand for “Some folks from certain parts of the country speak incorrectly.”

Recently, I’ve heard “shut” used incorrectly in a different sense:  “The economic downturn has resulted in some stores being shut in the northeast part of that state.”

Now, the way I see it, unless you are “shutting” one of the following (I’m sure I’m missing some, but here’s a list), you need to use a preposition with the word “shut”:

— Door, window, gate, curtains, book, magazine, mouth, eyes.

You don’t shut the lights, and you don’t shut a business, a company, a factory, a pharmacy, a salon, a bar, a store, a school.

You might shut those things down (or shut off the lights), but you don’t shut them.  Simply and eloquently, you close those things (or, you may even close them down).  You may shut the gate at the school, but you don’t shut the school.

I think I know where the confusion lies.  With all the talk about businesses going belly up these days, we hear that certain businesses, plants, and factories are being shuttered (shutter:  verb transitive – to cause to cease operations; close down):  “They plan to shutter the facility next Friday.”

That’s fine.  But, not, “They plan to shut the factory.”  (Though, they might correctly shut the factory doors.)

And, “They plan to shut down the factory,” is just fine.

Comingle.

Or, co-mingle.

Or, commingle.

Do we need any of these three “words”?

After all, what does “mingle” mean?

Couldn’t we just say “mix”?  Or, “combine”?

If one feels compelled to use a cliché or idiom, at least use it “correctly.”

(The other day I heard someone say that “(It’s) as easy as shooting ducks in a barrel.”)

One of my preferred places from which to mine incorrect usage is NPR.

Today, on “Morning Edition,” we were treated to a sports reporter, talking about the new college football playoff system, saying that one of the things that led to the institution of the new system was a scandal in which “. . . employees (of one BCS bowl) had curried favors from college football officials . . .”

(Sounds mighty tasty to me.)

Now, most of us know that the idiom is “curried favor.”  (And frankly, I think the proper preposition to use with this one is “with” or maybe “of.”)

“Curried favor.”  What does that mean?  Simply, it’s when you act in a way toward someone that causes the other person to treat you with “approbation” or “partiality.”  (Let’s just say it’s:  “kissing up” so you can “get in good with” someone.)

Currying favor is NOT treating someone in a way that gets him to do you a favor.  (Hence, if we want to speak properly, we would never use the plural, “favors,” in this expression.)

You are not allowed to simply make up words.

This goes for all us regular folks, and especially for you folks writin’ the dictionaries.

“Unappropriate.”

Give me a break.  Of course that’s not a word.  The word is “inappropriate.”  But, I do hear it used a lot.

I have some online dictionaries that I consult:

— thefreedictionary.com

— dictionary.reference.com

— and, merriam-webster.com

Frankly, none of them is very good.

Yet, today, I have to say, MW came up big.

The first two told me that the definition of “unappropriate” is, as an adjective, “inappropriate; unsuitable.”  Yep, that’s right: “unappropriate”means “inappropriate.”  Bloody HELL.  And, the second definition in each was, as an adjective, “not appropriated.”  (Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that straining the concept of the difference between a verb and an adjective a little bit?  I mean, are these sources suggesting we can say, “Tomorrow, we will unappropriate that  land”?)

Merriam-Webster saved the day:

“The word you’ve entered isn’t in the dictionary. Click on a spelling suggestion below or try again using the search bar above.

“inappropriate”

The first two sources, also, unfortunately, offered a verb transitive definition for “unappropriate”:  “To take from private possession.”  Heck, that just looks like they are stretching to pretend that “unappropriate” actually has a legitimate usage.

So, I ask you, why do we accept another word as correct – a similar word, spelled just a little differently – just because a bunch of people use it wrong?

This is, indeed, appalling.

I was thinking of going back to these dictionaries to see if “untolerant” is there.  What about “unsignificant”?  Or, “unhonorable”?  Perhaps, “unrelevant” or “unexcusable”?  I didn’t have the strength.

Ah, the joys of springtime.  Beautiful weather, the first robin, Father’s Day and graduation.

But wait.  Graduation.  What comes with that?

Well, graduation speeches.  And, what comes with graduation speeches?

This:

“And, so I say to you, my fellow classmates . . .”

I actually heard those words at least three times today.

“Fellow classmates”?

I’m thinking, “classmates,” all by itself, does the job very nicely.

And, don’t blame the graduates.  After all, how many times have you heard “fellow co-workers”?  Not to mention, “fellow teammates”?

My house is bigger than your house.

Dogs are smarter than cats.

A Prius gets better mileage than a Cadillac.

A bowling ball is heavier than a baseball.

A soccer field is longer than a football field.

She can run faster than I can.

Reading on a Kindle feels different than reading a book.

Wait a minute!

Is using than to follow different in the last sentence incorrect, or does the usage just grate on me?

In the first six examples the “er” words are adjectives (or adverbs) used to compare one thing (or action/activity) to another.

In the last sentence, different is used to draw a distinction between things.  And, the use of than is simply wrong.  Like, “Raising your voice is different from yelling.”  Or, iPhones are different from Androids.”

Now, this distinction between comparing and distinguishing may seem tenuous, but being able to understand concepts like this, and apply them, separates us from other animals.  (I don’t care who does it wrong, and I don’t care how long you have been doing it wrong.  It’s still wrong.)

Maybe this will be helpful.  Let’s look at some other words that draw distinctions:  apart from, separate from, distinct/distinguish from.  We would never use than, or anything but from, with these words – I hope.

Now that we’ve settled the easy stuff, what do you with sentences like these?:

“Construction requirements are different in London than in Glasgow.”

Should you say, “Construction requirements in England are different from the those in Scotland”?  Gosh, it seems so awkward!  Do I have to do this?

What about a really compelling example?:

“How different things appear to me in my older years than when I was young.”

Do I really expect you to say “How different things appear to me in my older years from the way they looked when I was young”?

The short answer to both is “yes.”  Do it right.

To excuse the laziness evident in the incorrect sentences, some commentators suggest that, in sentences like the first for each of the two examples, than is a conjunction and not a preposition, and therefore properly used.  Sounds like hogwash to me.

Seems to me we can get around the than/from problem by simplifying even the apparently difficult sentences:  Try, “Things look different to me now that I am older.”

Now, this is really interesting.

I’m listening to NPR this morning.  It’s a report on something to do with medical research.  Even in my half-asleep state, I’m startled by the following:

“Ms. Smith was 38, in great health and had just given birth to a brand new baby boy.”

Now, I’m thinking, how many extra words can one cram into a simple sentence?

It could have been:  “. . . and had just given birth to a boy,” or “a son.”

“Brand new”?  Does that add anything to the information we’re receiving?  (Pretty much every baby is “brand new,” no?)

What about “baby”?  One hopes that, when Ms. Smith gave birth to a boy, it was to a “baby.”

As usual, I’m wondering, “does anyone edit these stories before the things are aired?”  Obviously not.

Yet, when I went to the “Morning Edition” page for today’s show, and read the story, here’s what it said:

“Ms. Smith was 38, in great health and had just given birth to a baby boy.”

So, we learn, the editing apparently comes after the story is aired.  So, they edit it twice?  Or, does NPR edit these things only after the stories are aired?

I’m still wondering though:  Why did they leave in the word “baby”?

Baby steps, eh?

Today, I have a short comment on subject-verb agreement when it comes to quantities.

I offer some examples of correct usage:

“Twelve years is a long time.”  Here, we are talking about a length of time as a collective unit.  We are actually saying “Twelve years is a long period of time.”  We use the singular verb.

But:  “Forty years pass in the blink of an eye.”  Here, we are speaking of more than one individual units, years.  Hence, we use the plural verb.

Similarly, “Three bottles of Southern Comfort is enough for the party.”

But, “Three cans of Dr. Pepper are missing.”

And, “Five copies of Crime and Punishment is plenty for the new library.”

But, “Six copies of To the Lighthouse are being shipped today.”