Grammar Cop

I'm not a copy editor, nor do I play one on TV, but I find myself irritated by the misuse of similar-sounding words. I'm going to post some examples…

Let me get the ball rolling by re-posting some remarks I made on the subject nine years ago. They began by addressing words people incorrectly use when they're trying to elevate their speech, as I mentioned over a the Silver-Age Supergirl thread:

Now, this is not quite the same thing as many people who write business letters or memoranda do when they employ a more elevated term or expression for a simpler one, such as when one writes utilise for "use", or at the present time for "now". These folks are attempting to make their correspondence sound more formal or official. And while there may be some stylistic problems with it, the more-elabourate terms they use do mean the same thing as the ones they eschew.

But quite often people giving a speech or writing something for public dissemination seek to sound a bit more eloquent, so they resort to words which they feel sound fancier than the plain old ordinary ones. There's nothing wrong with the desire; the problem is the fancier words they use do not mean the same thing as the ordinary ones they don't want to use.

Mistaking infer to be a fancier way of saying imply is probably the most common example of this. In fact, this one is so abused, more people than not know it's wrong.

Of all my pet peeves when it comes to the (mis)use of the English language, these kind of errors get their own category with me. After the "infer/imply" business, probably the most often-seen example is when folks use the word fortuitous to mean fortunate.

Fortunate describes something which occurs from a stroke of good luck or good fortune. Fortuitous, on the other hand, is less definitive. Fortuitous means "to occur randomly or by happenstance". If you're walking down the street and get smooshed by a falling meteorite, that's fortuitous, but it certainly isn't fortunate.

Another way people try to sound more eloquent is by using the word comprise as a fancier way of saying compose. Like "infer/imply", there is a mirror relationship between the two words, in that both compose and comprise deal with a whole and its constituent parts. But they are not interchangable terms.

Compose, simply put, means "made up of/from"; comprise means "to consist of".

"Huh?" says the guy in the back, "I don't get the difference."

It's simple. When you use the word compose as an active verb, the constituent parts come first and then the whole. For example, "Ace, Red, Rocky, and Prof [the constituent parts] compose [make up] the Challengers of the Unknown [the whole]"

Compose can also be used with an inactive verb, in the expression "is composed of"; in this case, the whole comes first and the constituent parts second. "The Challengers of the Unknown is composed of Ace, Red, Rocky, and Prof.

Comprise, however, is always an active verb; thus, the phrase "is comprised of" is incorrect. When one uses comprise the whole comes first and the parts second. "The Challengers of the Unknown comprise [consists of] Ace, Red, Rocky, and Prof."

Also falling in this category of using words for their eloquence quotient is when gender is used to mean sex. Like some of the others, they're similar in meaning, but have a distinct difference which precludes interchangability.

Now, I know how this one came about. Writers were either squeamish about using the word "sex", because of its carnal implications, or they wanted to avoid their readers reacting like juvenile twelve-year-olds. ("Hee hee, he said 'sex'." Snort, snort!)

Simply explained, sex---as it pertains to "male" and "female"---refers to the distinct classifications of male and female in terms of physical traits. Most often, of course, this in the case of biological life forms. But it also applies to inanimate objects described for convenience as "male" and "female", such as the opposite ends of an extension cord.

Gender also refers to the distinctions between male and female, but on a much more limited range. Gender strictly refers to grammar and the distinction between male and female as it applies to the agreement of a subject with its associated pronouns. In the sentence "Bob forgot he had to work this week-end," the male subject, "Bob", requires the masculine pronoun, "he". If it were "Betty forgot she had to work this week-end," then obviously the female subject calls for the feminine pronoun, "she".

When discussing male and female distinctions in grammar, then gender is the right word; for everything male and female in the physical world, it's sex. (Hee hee, the commander said 'sex'." Snort, snort!)

While I'm on the subject, just in case I haven't irritated enough folks, let me toss off some more of my linguisitic peeves:

When I was boy, the word describing something which was readily or violently combustable was inflammable. This was derived from the verb "to inflame". Its opposite was non-inflammable.

However, around the late '60's, the word flammable began to emerge. It was a safety concern because many folks, not grasping the root of the word, mistook the "in--" part of inflammable to mean "not". Because of the concern that people might immolate themselves because they were too stupid to understand what inflammable really meant, those in charge of such things coined the word flammable and began using it.

I've lost count of the number of arguments I've had with instructors of damage-control and hazardous-material courses over my use of the world inflammable.

While that was a case of people not knowing a word, there is a common error which comes from folks knowing a word---or thinking they know it.

Again, going back to my early youth, I felt quite proud of myself when I discovered that there was a word for the class of abbrieviations such as "UNICEF" and "laser" and "NASA"---acronym. You almost never heard the word acronym then. But, sometime around the early '80's, suddenly everybody knew it.

The problem was they knew it, but didn't quite know it. You see, these folks would refer to everything which was commonly known by its initials as acronyms. That's incorrect. Acronym refers to only such abbreviations which themselves are commonly pronounced as words.

"NATO" and "NASA" and "PIN" are acronyms. "FBI" and "CEO" and "DVD" are not; they are initialisms.

There's one grammatical error which crops up almost inevitably in commercials, especially those for some sort of drug for treatment of an ailment. I crab about it so much when I see it that the Good Mrs. Benson cringes whenever one of those commercials runs.

What happens is the spokesman in that kind of commercial is usually a medical professional, and his name will appear on the screen in this fashion:

"Dr. Otto Schmidlapp, M.D." or "Dr. Cosgrove Edelweiss, D.D.S." or "Dr. Joseph Hogbristle, Ph.D."

Let's take Otto (although the mistake is the same in all of the above examples). What does the "M.D." stand for? "Doctor of Medicine". So what the label is really stating is "Doctor Otto Schmidlapp, Doctor of Medicine"---a clear redundency. The rule of grammar in such cases is: use either the leading title ("Doctor") or the trailing title ("M.D." or "D.D.S. or whatever), but never both at the same time.

I don't know---I've never asked any medical professionals of my acquaintence---but I'd be willing to bet a month's pension that, at the end of medical school, when the soon-to-be graduates are about to receive their doctorates, they are actually instructed in the proper grammatical usage of their newfound title.

[Since I originally wrote this post, I have, indeed, checked with a medical professional---my dentist of many years, professional and skilled at her profession, to the point where we are almost on a first-name basis. And she confirmed that those about to be minted as dentists are instructed in the grammatically proper format to display their professional names.]

And, quite frankly, I would never use the services of a physician whose business card or nameplate on his office door read: "Dr. [Name], M.D." If he's sloppy about that, then I can't trust him not to be sloppy about treating me.

Since I'm enjoying this, let me toss out a few more grammatical pet peeves.

"Tuxedo with tails". There's no such thing. You see, the tuxedo is a lesser version of the tailed jacket (white tie). Supposedly, the name tuxedo came from the place where such a jacket most prominently first appeared---Tuxedo Park, a posh upstate-New York haven for old-money rich folk. The intent was to have a less-stifling alternative to white tie, yet still present a formal appearance. Thus, the jacket was redesigned to be without tails.

Thus, the tuxedo is a derivation of the tailed jacket. You have "tails" and you have "tuxedo", but not both. Saying "tuxedo with tails" is akin to saying "a blind man who can see".

"Déjà vu". I know, I know---the ship has already sailed on this one. But it's irritating because its actual meaning refers to a specific trait for which there is no other suitable term.

Virtually everyone now takes déjà vu to mean "something one is experiencing that is very similar to what he has experienced before"---and that's virtually the exact opposite of its true meaning.

Déjà vu is actually a term from psychology, one of many similar terms used to describe peculiar tricks of the mind. What déjà vu actually means is that quirk of the brain that occurs when one sees or experiences something never seen or experienced by him before, yet for some reason seems familiar.

This is a rare case in which I know exactly the first time I heard the term. It was on 15 September 1971. That was the night when the first regular episode of Columbo---"Murder by the Book"--aired. About ten minutes into the show, the soon-to-be victim, portrayed by Martin Milner, describes the locale of his soon-to-be killer's cabin as a set-up he has never seen before; yet, somehow, it seems very familiar to him, and terms it correctly as déjà vu.

The other terms which descibe brain-quirks are jamais vu, when it's something you have seen or experienced before, but somehow it seems unfamiliar; presque vu, something you can almost, but not quite, remember, i.e., on the tip of your tongue; and déjà vécu---which is what everybody thinks déjà vu is---to undergo an experience identical or very similar to something one has experienced before.

So when the Toledo Mudhens, for the second year in a row, lose the divisional playoffs by one home run hit by Slugger Shopenhauer of the opposing team, it's not déjà vu; it's déjà vécu.

I remember Richard's thread (at least I'm consistent in my pet peeves), and of course I remember the Commander's perennial column as well.

Here is a linguistic pet peeve that had bothered me for several years now, but has become more prevalent recently (or perhaps the cumulative effect has begun to bug me more). I have neglected to mention it because I don't want to bring it to the attention of someone who hasn't noticed it, but I hear it every day. I usually encounter it while watching the news on television or listening to it on the radio. The host is interviewing a subject matter expert on his or her particular field of expertise, be it politics or economics or science; it doesn't really matter. Oftentimes the SME will make a point and follow it up with, "Right?" I don't know, you tell me. You're the expert! I don't know whether those who do this are seeking validation or are attempting to be colloquial or what, but it's annoying.

When I was in high school, there was a girl in my speech and debate class who would continually end her sentences with, "Y'know?" In order to break her of this habit, our teacher would interject, "Yes, I know," everytime she said it. This tactic caught on beyond the classroom and the girl found herself barraged by, "Yes, I know," in other classes, in the lunchroom, at extracurricular activities until eventually we broke her of the habit. These days, whenever I watching or listening to the news and the person being interviewed asks, "Right?" I always respond with an enthusiastic, "Right!" which is a habit my wife finds annoying. "They can't hear you," she admonishes, "but I can!"

I'm sorry, but if you've never noticed this behavior before you certainly will after having read this post.

In conclusion, continually seeking validation after every point is annoying and those who do so should stop it. Right?

Replies

The Baron September 28, 2023 at 2:54pm

The word "unique" does not take a qualifier. A thing is unique or it is not, Nothing is "very unique".
Commander Benson September 28, 2023 at 3:54pm

Capital idea of giving this topic its own thread, sir! I look forward to providing my own submissions and to reading everyone else's.
Richard Willis September 28, 2023 at 6:49pm

Somewhat related to my own early-2020 thread Words Commonly Confused - Forum 2.0 - Captain Comics (ning.com)

Words Commonly Confused

I'm not a copy editor, nor do I play one on TV, but I find myself irritated by the misuse of similar-sounding words. I'm going to post some examples…
Commander Benson September 28, 2023 at 9:12pm

Let me get the ball rolling by re-posting some remarks I made on the subject nine years ago. They began by addressing words people incorrectly use when they're trying to elevate their speech, as I mentioned over a the Silver-Age Supergirl thread:

Now, this is not quite the same thing as many people who write business letters or memoranda do when they employ a more elevated term or expression for a simpler one, such as when one writes utilise for "use", or at the present time for "now". These folks are attempting to make their correspondence sound more formal or official. And while there may be some stylistic problems with it, the more-elabourate terms they use do mean the same thing as the ones they eschew.

But quite often people giving a speech or writing something for public dissemination seek to sound a bit more eloquent, so they resort to words which they feel sound fancier than the plain old ordinary ones. There's nothing wrong with the desire; the problem is the fancier words they use do not mean the same thing as the ordinary ones they don't want to use.

Mistaking infer to be a fancier way of saying imply is probably the most common example of this. In fact, this one is so abused, more people than not know it's wrong.

Of all my pet peeves when it comes to the (mis)use of the English language, these kind of errors get their own category with me. After the "infer/imply" business, probably the most often-seen example is when folks use the word fortuitous to mean fortunate.

Fortunate describes something which occurs from a stroke of good luck or good fortune. Fortuitous, on the other hand, is less definitive. Fortuitous means "to occur randomly or by happenstance". If you're walking down the street and get smooshed by a falling meteorite, that's fortuitous, but it certainly isn't fortunate.

Another way people try to sound more eloquent is by using the word comprise as a fancier way of saying compose. Like "infer/imply", there is a mirror relationship between the two words, in that both compose and comprise deal with a whole and its constituent parts. But they are not interchangable terms.

Compose, simply put, means "made up of/from"; comprise means "to consist of".

"Huh?" says the guy in the back, "I don't get the difference."

It's simple. When you use the word compose as an active verb, the constituent parts come first and then the whole. For example, "Ace, Red, Rocky, and Prof [the constituent parts] compose [make up] the Challengers of the Unknown [the whole]"

Compose can also be used with an inactive verb, in the expression "is composed of"; in this case, the whole comes first and the constituent parts second. "The Challengers of the Unknown is composed of Ace, Red, Rocky, and Prof.

Comprise, however, is always an active verb; thus, the phrase "is comprised of" is incorrect. When one uses comprise the whole comes first and the parts second. "The Challengers of the Unknown comprise [consists of] Ace, Red, Rocky, and Prof."

Also falling in this category of using words for their eloquence quotient is when gender is used to mean sex. Like some of the others, they're similar in meaning, but have a distinct difference which precludes interchangability.

Now, I know how this one came about. Writers were either squeamish about using the word "sex", because of its carnal implications, or they wanted to avoid their readers reacting like juvenile twelve-year-olds. ("Hee hee, he said 'sex'." Snort, snort!)

Simply explained, sex---as it pertains to "male" and "female"---refers to the distinct classifications of male and female in terms of physical traits. Most often, of course, this in the case of biological life forms. But it also applies to inanimate objects described for convenience as "male" and "female", such as the opposite ends of an extension cord.

Gender also refers to the distinctions between male and female, but on a much more limited range. Gender strictly refers to grammar and the distinction between male and female as it applies to the agreement of a subject with its associated pronouns. In the sentence "Bob forgot he had to work this week-end," the male subject, "Bob", requires the masculine pronoun, "he". If it were "Betty forgot she had to work this week-end," then obviously the female subject calls for the feminine pronoun, "she".

When discussing male and female distinctions in grammar, then gender is the right word; for everything male and female in the physical world, it's sex. (Hee hee, the commander said 'sex'." Snort, snort!)

While I'm on the subject, just in case I haven't irritated enough folks, let me toss off some more of my linguisitic peeves:

When I was boy, the word describing something which was readily or violently combustable was inflammable. This was derived from the verb "to inflame". Its opposite was non-inflammable.

However, around the late '60's, the word flammable began to emerge. It was a safety concern because many folks, not grasping the root of the word, mistook the "in--" part of inflammable to mean "not". Because of the concern that people might immolate themselves because they were too stupid to understand what inflammable really meant, those in charge of such things coined the word flammable and began using it.

I've lost count of the number of arguments I've had with instructors of damage-control and hazardous-material courses over my use of the world inflammable.

While that was a case of people not knowing a word, there is a common error which comes from folks knowing a word---or thinking they know it.

Again, going back to my early youth, I felt quite proud of myself when I discovered that there was a word for the class of abbrieviations such as "UNICEF" and "laser" and "NASA"---acronym. You almost never heard the word acronym then. But, sometime around the early '80's, suddenly everybody knew it.

The problem was they knew it, but didn't quite know it. You see, these folks would refer to everything which was commonly known by its initials as acronyms. That's incorrect. Acronym refers to only such abbreviations which themselves are commonly pronounced as words.

"NATO" and "NASA" and "PIN" are acronyms. "FBI" and "CEO" and "DVD" are not; they are initialisms.

There's one grammatical error which crops up almost inevitably in commercials, especially those for some sort of drug for treatment of an ailment. I crab about it so much when I see it that the Good Mrs. Benson cringes whenever one of those commercials runs.

What happens is the spokesman in that kind of commercial is usually a medical professional, and his name will appear on the screen in this fashion:

"Dr. Otto Schmidlapp, M.D." or "Dr. Cosgrove Edelweiss, D.D.S." or "Dr. Joseph Hogbristle, Ph.D."

Let's take Otto (although the mistake is the same in all of the above examples). What does the "M.D." stand for? "Doctor of Medicine". So what the label is really stating is "Doctor Otto Schmidlapp, Doctor of Medicine"---a clear redundency. The rule of grammar in such cases is: use either the leading title ("Doctor") or the trailing title ("M.D." or "D.D.S. or whatever), but never both at the same time.

I don't know---I've never asked any medical professionals of my acquaintence---but I'd be willing to bet a month's pension that, at the end of medical school, when the soon-to-be graduates are about to receive their doctorates, they are actually instructed in the proper grammatical usage of their newfound title.

[Since I originally wrote this post, I have, indeed, checked with a medical professional---my dentist of many years, professional and skilled at her profession, to the point where we are almost on a first-name basis. And she confirmed that those about to be minted as dentists are instructed in the grammatically proper format to display their professional names.]

And, quite frankly, I would never use the services of a physician whose business card or nameplate on his office door read: "Dr. [Name], M.D." If he's sloppy about that, then I can't trust him not to be sloppy about treating me.

Since I'm enjoying this, let me toss out a few more grammatical pet peeves.

"Tuxedo with tails". There's no such thing. You see, the tuxedo is a lesser version of the tailed jacket (white tie). Supposedly, the name tuxedo came from the place where such a jacket most prominently first appeared---Tuxedo Park, a posh upstate-New York haven for old-money rich folk. The intent was to have a less-stifling alternative to white tie, yet still present a formal appearance. Thus, the jacket was redesigned to be without tails.

Thus, the tuxedo is a derivation of the tailed jacket. You have "tails" and you have "tuxedo", but not both. Saying "tuxedo with tails" is akin to saying "a blind man who can see".

"Déjà vu". I know, I know---the ship has already sailed on this one. But it's irritating because its actual meaning refers to a specific trait for which there is no other suitable term.

Virtually everyone now takes déjà vu to mean "something one is experiencing that is very similar to what he has experienced before"---and that's virtually the exact opposite of its true meaning.

Déjà vu is actually a term from psychology, one of many similar terms used to describe peculiar tricks of the mind. What déjà vu actually means is that quirk of the brain that occurs when one sees or experiences something never seen or experienced by him before, yet for some reason seems familiar.

This is a rare case in which I know exactly the first time I heard the term. It was on 15 September 1971. That was the night when the first regular episode of Columbo---"Murder by the Book"--aired. About ten minutes into the show, the soon-to-be victim, portrayed by Martin Milner, describes the locale of his soon-to-be killer's cabin as a set-up he has never seen before; yet, somehow, it seems very familiar to him, and terms it correctly as déjà vu.

The other terms which descibe brain-quirks are jamais vu, when it's something you have seen or experienced before, but somehow it seems unfamiliar; presque vu, something you can almost, but not quite, remember, i.e., on the tip of your tongue; and déjà vécu---which is what everybody thinks déjà vu is---to undergo an experience identical or very similar to something one has experienced before.

So when the Toledo Mudhens, for the second year in a row, lose the divisional playoffs by one home run hit by Slugger Shopenhauer of the opposing team, it's not déjà vu; it's déjà vécu.
- Eric L. Sofer > Commander Benson September 29, 2023 at 8:39am
  
  Commander, reading your posts is a cool breeze on a summer's day. You are three Es to me - eloquent, erudite, and entertaining! I terribly enjoy your postings!
- Commander Benson > Eric L. Sofer September 29, 2023 at 8:49am
  
  That's high praise, sir. I take it very kindly, my friend.
Jeff of Earth-J September 29, 2023 at 9:23am

I remember Richard's thread (at least I'm consistent in my pet peeves), and of course I remember the Commander's perennial column as well.

Here is a linguistic pet peeve that had bothered me for several years now, but has become more prevalent recently (or perhaps the cumulative effect has begun to bug me more). I have neglected to mention it because I don't want to bring it to the attention of someone who hasn't noticed it, but I hear it every day. I usually encounter it while watching the news on television or listening to it on the radio. The host is interviewing a subject matter expert on his or her particular field of expertise, be it politics or economics or science; it doesn't really matter. Oftentimes the SME will make a point and follow it up with, "Right?" I don't know, you tell me. You're the expert! I don't know whether those who do this are seeking validation or are attempting to be colloquial or what, but it's annoying.

When I was in high school, there was a girl in my speech and debate class who would continually end her sentences with, "Y'know?" In order to break her of this habit, our teacher would interject, "Yes, I know," everytime she said it. This tactic caught on beyond the classroom and the girl found herself barraged by, "Yes, I know," in other classes, in the lunchroom, at extracurricular activities until eventually we broke her of the habit. These days, whenever I watching or listening to the news and the person being interviewed asks, "Right?" I always respond with an enthusiastic, "Right!" which is a habit my wife finds annoying. "They can't hear you," she admonishes, "but I can!"

I'm sorry, but if you've never noticed this behavior before you certainly will after having read this post.

In conclusion, continually seeking validation after every point is annoying and those who do so should stop it. Right?
- Commander Benson > Jeff of Earth-J September 29, 2023 at 9:51am
  
  The use of right at the end of a sentence in that fashion is an example of a discourse marker---more colloquially called a "filler word".
  
  We all know these when we hear them---the other one you mentioned, Jeff---you know---is probably the biggest, or at least the most annoying, offender. Other examples of discourse markers are uh, um, oh, ah, like, and just. People employ these in their idiolects to stall for time while they think of what they're going to say next.
  
  Other filler words, such as I guess and I suppose, are inserted to hedge a person's statement, a subconscious measure to avoid offence or argument.
  
  Then, we come to the point of your post, my friend---the attachment of right at the end of a remark. The instinctive purpose of this discourse marker is to invite a response from the listener. Know what I mean? is another example of this.
  
  It's also, as you pointed out, a subconscious request for validation.
  
  I really haven't noticed the right business cropping up, but then, I don't listen or watch too many personal interviews. I can see how it would be irritating.
  
  That's the thing about filler words. Used sparingly in conversation, they go relatively unnoticed, and they can even add a little drama to a spoken sentence. But when a speaker uses them incessantly (because they have become a linguistic crutch), it knocks the listener out of the conversation. Worse, it's irritating as hell.
- Eric L. Sofer > Commander Benson September 29, 2023 at 12:15pm
  
  Commander, I'll add another filler word that makes me crazy - so. A lot of people start a conversation with this and I don't like it. Verbally, I consider it as a conclusion of a discussion, bringing facts together and presenting a QED. Starting a sentence with it - I go nutty.
  
  I have issues, y'know? :)
- Eric L. Sofer > Jeff of Earth-J September 29, 2023 at 12:11pm
  
  I agree and find it annoying as hell. It's a habit of those who are talking and need an ever-so-brief break to think of what they're going to say next. I can avoid it (and do as often as possible.) But I get it; I just plain dislike it.
  
  My other hated discussion tactic is someone who tries to finish what you're saying with you so that they can speak, as if they're continuing what they were saying - and thus have every right to keep talking. It blows my mind.

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