Road Apples
Feb. 16, 2009


The Sanders Grammar Stimulus Package

By Tim Sanders

We here at Grammar Central always work under the assumption that nothing stimulates good grammar like injecting just tons and tons of fertile verbosity–good, bad, or indifferent–into the system until some of it takes root, shoots to the surface, blooms and attracts somebody’s attention. "Ah, the smell of fresh grammar," they’ll say. We firmly believe that the country’s depressed grammatical condition will improve, over time, if columnists continue to toss moist shovelsful of grammar onto the printed page until their readers are fully saturated, so to speak. Perhaps then our citizenry will return to its roots, which are deeply embedded in the rich soil of verbal deftness.

Yes, when it comes to grammar, we’ll plow and plant, plow and plant, until our readers are full of it, too.

Or something like that.

Here are some frequently asked grammar questions about which we are asked ... frequently.


Q: My friend Bob told me his 85-year-old grandfather was "literally flat on his back for two months." Why did he say "literally," and what did he mean by that?

A: The word "literal" comes from the old Latin word "litterus," which denotes strewing garbage alongside roadways. As to why Bob’s grandfather was lying alongside an old Latin highway amid old Latin candy bar wrappers and old Latin beer cans for two months, your guess is as good as ours.


Q: When politicians talk about how the latest stimulus package will "save or create three million jobs," I am confused. How many jobs are they creating and how many are they saving, and how do they measure "saved jobs?"

A: That’s easy. The key word here is "OR." That word allows the astute politician to forget about the "created" part of the promise and just go with the "saved" part. And if 250 million people are working before his stimulus is enacted, and only three million are working afterwards, he may have lost 247 million jobs, but-VOILA–technically he’s still managed to "save" three million. If a politician studies the language and learns proper phraseology, he need never fear being accused of lying.


Q: So what does voila have to do with it?

A: "Voila" is a word designed to make people think the person using it is sophisticated enough to understand French.


Q: What does voila mean?

A: I suspect it is either some sort of a stringed instrument or a woman’s name.


Q: If Americans say "It’s all Greek to me" when they don’t understand something, what do Greeks say?

A: They say "It’s all French to me."


Q: And what do the French say?

A: Usually they say something really irritating, like: "Cooh de gwah, boodwah, jennay se quah, frome-aahge, bow-cooh, vivah la Fwahnce, et cetewah.”


Q: What does that mean?

A: My guess would be it means either "we surrender very much" or "my mouth is full of soft cheese and raw fish eggs.”


Q: So if French pronunciation is all that annoying, why do the guys on the Antiques Roadshow insist on saying "VAHZ" instead of "VASE?"
A: Because a) nobody in his right mind would value some old "VASE" at $350,000, and b) the people at PBS slip them an extra five bucks every time they say "VAHZ.”


Q: I told my friend Larry that my wife asked me what day it was this morning and I said Tuesday and she said how about it was her birthday and also she didn’t care to speak to me no more. Larry he said he guessed I had egg on my face. I told him I could of had, but that was no reason for her to stomp off to the bathroom that way and slam the door. So then he said I was missing the point about egg on my face, which was only in a manner of speaking, like the way kicking the bucket and throwing somebody a curve didn’t really have anything to do with buckets or baseballs. What in the name of all that’s holy was he talking about?

A: We do not know, but your question has given us a terrific headache.


Q: I read the following ad in the local newspaper: "Mahogany dresser for sale by elderly gentleman with claw feet, thick, barley-twist turned legs and solid drawers." Something about that ad bothered me. How would you have worded it?

A: Elderly gentlemen need not go into detail about their physical abnormalities. It is not germane to the issue of selling a dresser. We’d suggest simply listing the item: "Dresser for sale, by elderly gentleman with mobility problems." And we feel that the comment about his "solid drawers" offered way more information than anyone needed.


Q: Doesn’t Michael Jackson have a brother named Germane?

A: Sort of.


Q: People are always talking about "thinking outside the box." Can you use that in a sentence which will explain just exactly what it means?

A: Certainly. If you’re thinking outside the box is where old Tom needs to relieve himself, then perhaps cat ownership is something you should be rethinking.


Q: So like yesterday you know I like told my dad I was totally going to buy a pair of those fabulous Italian boots which are like so totally awesome you know and he like said I should be quiet because his ears were like starting to bleed. So like what got up his butt, anyhow?

A: We have no earthly idea, but we are nonetheless delighted that you are going to totally buy those boots, which are totally awesome, instead of ... you know, partially buying a pair which are only marginally awesome.


We sincerely believe that after you’ve totally fertilized yourself with our grammar stimulus column, and given its contents time to percolate through your cerebral mulch, you will once again be able to string a sentence together without endangering either your fellow citizens or the Arctic polar bear. And if not, don’t blame us. Blame it on the Bush administration.