Low and Bee-Holed

Now I don’t want to be pidgin holed as one of those P-brains (or pee brains, even) who gets too obsessed over a little thing like spelling, when for all intensive purposes we can usually understand each other well enough, but sometimes you’re words really due matter.

Aisle admit to some fussiness. I apparently have a deep-seeded need to correct verbal foe paws when I see them, ranging from stray apostrophe’s to unnecessary quotes put around ‘words’ for emphasis, but as the mourning star shines, what really makes me cry grate crocodile tiers of frustration is the spelling error. Even when I’m not a steak-holder in the matter, such as someone else’s conversation on a discussion bored (you really think they’d be more exciting), I still feel the kneed to make corrections. Old King Coal was a merry old sole, but apparently I’m a reel stickler for details.

Whether it’s big causes like visualizing whirled peas or helping those starving euthanasia, down to the most miner house-holed conversations, proper communication is key. It *should* be as easy as pi, but four sum reason it’s knot.

For example, recently Eye replied to an appalling posting which red, “your in this country, learn the language” with an offer to make the poster the first deportee, but my suggestion only earned an unappreciative “yore a jerk.” Their may be a colonel of truth to that, but I still think it was the foolish poster who looked bad for making such a silly mistake. You simply can’t expect someone to take you seriously while you’re talking about a title wave, or a device that scans for finger prince, or most especially if you’re trying to peek customer interest in a sneak peak of your product. Precise spelling gets a bad wrap at times, but you’ll be mocked if you mangle the lyrics to Comma Chameleon, and calling someone a no-nothing will only cause readers to glance askance at the extent of your own knowledge (unless the principal of the double negative means you really intended to call him a “something-something,” which may be fare game.)

In the same vain, if you try to take the reigns, be prepared for “your royal highness” jokes–far less likely to get any kings or queens than jokers and lumbar jacks. As the great barred once said, “Two bee, ore not too B.” Or was that a line from The Malty’s Falcon? I always get those too mixed up.

But that pails in comparison to the thyme my brother warned me to (and you’ll have to pardon my French here) “look out for the big asshole” in the parking lot, and as I looked around for an improperly behaving pedestrian or vehicle, I ran through the big-ass pothole that he’d been trying to pointe out.

Now some may argue that the time spent trying to be precise is waisted if other people can figure it out anyweigh, but in my mind it’s shear arrogance to save yourself the trouble of doing the thinking if it puts the burden on the udder party. If you don’t have your queue stick lined up with the Q ball, don’t make it my fault when your intentions go a-rye. Even if you have the best can-dew, never-say-dye attitude, I refuse to let your across-the-bored misspellings make a lyre of me.

Mostly it’s the principal of the thing (have Aye used principal already? My apologies if the repetition wares on you), that if you have a capitol idea to share butt know-buddy is abel to understand it, then you mite ass whale not bother.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *