The Death of the English Language

The decaying nature of the Earth and its environment is much like the English language; beautiful in its complexities and innocence. However, like our planet, the English language is gradually being destroyed, not only by the common user, but by those who make a living from their words.

When writers contribute to the decline of their money-maker, the English language, a knowledgeable reader can easily become nauseated with disgust by the sheer number of errors which find their way onto the pages of even the most heralded papers and periodicals.

The Manifesto of an Irritated Reader…

To state the obvious, with time, languages change. This is not just a phenomenon associated with the English language, but is a universal reality that has been studied for years. Unfortunately, because of a bevy of variables, it can be difficult to identify why exactly languages change over time, though sociolinguistic causes of change can be measured to a certain degree.

In some academic circles the study of language change is referred to as ‘historical linguistics.’ The study of such change concerns the deconstruction and reconstruction of languages to determine the reasons for change. In the past, changes that have occurred within a language have been attributed to a staggering variety of factors that range from most aspects of human life, physical, social, mental and environmental.

For example, it was once believed that consonant sounds began to change in mountainous regions due to the high altitude factor. The density of the air was believed to affect change in certain words because of the intensity of expiration in high altitudes.

Fact is, languages change. It is an inevitable aspect of linguistics that has affected far older tongues than English. My issue is not with change, because it is inexorable, but with examples of decay of the language that is easily avoidable.

If you’re keeping score, the aforementioned misuse is comparable to a Greenpeace activist stalking endangered whales off the Atlantic seaboard. It just doesn’t make much sense. Calling all writers - Don’t bite the hand that feeds.

I am easily enraged by most things, but nothing irritates me more than reading a poorly written article in the same magazine I would literally kill to work for.

Isn’t It Ironic That…

The one faux-pas that really infuriates me is the confusion between coincidence and irony. These terms are thrown about far too liberally to the point where their original meaning have very little meaning at all. (I.e. irony is a term that has been mistreated long enough; to the point were the word’s meaning and its common usage is two different things. For those still lost, check the definitions for irony and coincidence, then compare and figure it out for yourself please and thank you.) Never mind (two words!!!). I’ll make life easier for those who didn’t check-out of this rant at paragraph 1.

Coincidence is an act that occurs by accident and without planning.

“It was sheer coincidence that Sophia and I ran into each other at the market.” These incidents cannot be premeditated and usually occur when not expected. Sometimes I expect to see somebody at the mall that I haven’t seen in a while, simply because there are scores of people there and the chances are favourable. I may expect to see somebody in passing, but I certainly can’t plan it. How the hell could I?

Irony on the other hand is a far more convoluted concept, but by no means difficult to differentiate from coincidence. This is what makes my blood boil.

By definition it deals with things that are incongruent, with nothing at all to do with coincidence. This is where the term has been misused by many.

There are several applications for the term irony. One is based on opposites. Humor established on the use of words to suggest the opposite of their actual or literal meaning. The contradiction of something that has been written or said with terms that would suggest the opposite, often times evoking a humorous reaction of sorts. Sarcastic types are fueled by the existence of this form of irony. “I really love cleaning my bathroom” or “I enjoy nothing more than watching paint dry.”

The incongruity between what is expected and what occurs is also a form of irony. You may have expected that attending the Leafs game would be in exercise in containing one’s anger, but it turns out they won by a margin of four goals. Go figure.

The confusion between what exactly constitutes coincidence and irony is not the only abomination of the English language promoted by members of the print media. There is absolutely nothing in the postulates of the definition for irony that should have people confusing it with coincidence.

Most dictionaries will make an effort to point out the misuse of the term for its users. Irony must be associated with things or occurrences that are purely incongruent, and not those which are coincidental or improbable.

Running into an old classmate on the same day you looked at your gr. 11 yearbook is not ironic, it’s coincidental. Improbable as it may seem, missing the bus by a step only to meet a beautiful, uninhibited foreign exchange student on the next one is only coincidental and nothing more.

The confusion between irony and coincidence is only the beginning – the tip of the proverbial iceberg – which is also a faux pas, even in attaching the euphemistic adjective, but that’s a matter for later.

Regardless of Common Usage – Irregardless is Not a Word…

Another ir that irks many is irregardless. Let a moratorium begin on its usage, both in print and in conversation. When making a point, too often, and too easily this bastard-of-a word rolls of the most refined of tongues in place of its legitimate cousin.

That’s regardless. No ir = no err.

As a prefix, ir usually implies the inverse of an adverb or adjective, where irrelevant means the opposite or relevant and irresponsible the ying to the responsible yang.

The difference amongst these ‘real’ words and irregardless lies in the fact that regardless already is negative by definition. Since less is a suffix substituting for without, and ir is a prefix for ‘not’, the word irregardless would constitute a double-negative.

Dictionaries are made for a reason.

Those green and red lines that appear below most of your type are suggesting you make a correction. Please do so.

And if you fail to for whatever reason, and the error escapes your copy editor’s cobra-clutch, may God save our souls and strike you down with lightning from the heavens and a barrage of massive academic dictionaries that wallop with the force of a thousand bricks.

Having said that - another three words that are major waste of type - to imply that many writers are responsible is definitely an ironic statement, but it’s certainly not a coincidence that bad writer’s make bad mistakes.

For those writers, don’t fear – you have no idea who you are, but I want your gigs. With that said, make an effort, no matter how novice you may be to stay away from irregardless.

Dare I say there are others that continue to destroy everything they touch?

Many Writers are Very Average to Say the Least…

The abuses I speak of deal with the quantification of terms that, by definition, cannot be quantified or qualified. There are adjectives in the English language that should never be preceded by an adverb to describe or emphasize their meaning.

In a recent article from one of the major national newspapers, the author described a stage show as very mediocre. Mediocrity cannot be quantified, because by definition, it refers to something that is average; in other words adequate or acceptable, but altogether not outstanding.

“Do you know who has rushed for more yards than Seattle has-been Shaun Alexander? Many people, including War-rick Dunn (3.1 yards per carry), Derrick Ward (largely anonymous), and Ron Dayne (extremely mediocre).” (Globe and Mail 12/14/07).

Now that’s taking it to the next level. Sentence fragment was a nice touch too.

Somebody whose profession it is to write should realize that you cannot place an adverb like very before such a word.

Along the same lines, an artist’s work cannot be called very unique because uniqueness cannot be quantified. One of a kind is, well, one of a kind.

The quantification and qualification of terms that by definition can only stand alone drives me absolutely ape-shit.

Unique is an absolute concept, and as such, cannot be used in accordance with a qualifying or quantifying term such as very. The same applies to the writer who called a film extremely average; something that is average cannot be so by varying degrees, it is simply average.

Qualifying words like mediocre with adverbs such as somewhat, more or less, fairly or reasonably is bad taste. More so, along the same lines, to say that something is quite or rather unique is to err in English.

Many dictionaries and usage guides argue that terms such as unique are an absolute concept and, as such, cannot be used in accordance with qualifying words such as very or rather, but in many cases this stricture seems like a pedantic objection to what is a linguistic rather than a philosophical convention.

All of this should come as no surprise. The English language was destined to destroy itself. The writing was on the wall and on the black-boards of classrooms throughout North America.

English is a sponge of a language, absorbing words from other languages, and more often then not, spitting in the face of proper phonetic pronunciation.

A Solution is Light Years Away – The Epidemic of Clichés…

The use of clichés, especially in print, is destroying the English language. Historical linguists would identify the use of clichés as the epitome of academic laziness. Even though employing a cliché may sometimes be the most economical means of making a complicated statement, more often than not, they are a sign inert unthinking in writing and editing.

The use of clichés should be discontinued retroactive yesterday.

Sometimes clichés can be the easiest way to describe a complex notion, but writers should avoid the temptation to take the high-road. Saying that concert tickets sold like hot cakes may convey a message quite succinctly, it sounds horrible and reads even worst.

The cliché disease is most often a full-blown plague in most sports pages. It seems as if each article features a headline describing the anticipation of a fat lady singing or how something is not over until it is over. No shit. Icebergs have tips and everything eventually hangs by a thread.

The one that stands out as the pinnacle of this pile of dialect dung is the use of the term light years.

“A week may be a long time in politics. But it’s a light year in the global economy.”

This quote is attempting to quantify time in terms of light years, describing the relative difference in time between the world of politics and the economy. Nice try, but any astrophysicist would be quick to point out that light years are a measure of distance, not time.

I think I can afford to repeat myself on this one; light years are a measure of distance, not time.

Clichés are bad enough, but to apply terms that make little to no sense is like throwing the English language under a bus. Sorry.

The Languagegate Controversy…

Another deviant of the English language that is often found in print is the use of the fake suffix gate as in the Super Bowl Halftime wardrobe ‘malfunction’ Nipplegate and the Spygate allegations that surrounded the New England Patriots coach.

This linguistic nightmare is a concocted cocktail of one parts verbal diarrhea, two parts laziness. I’ve had enough. Those who choose to both say and print such words should be found guilty of having absolutely no economy for the English language.

The whole gate phenomenon started with President Richard Nixon’s Watergate controversy that led to his eventual downfall. Watergate was the apartment complex in Washington D.C. where the events that led to this political scandal took place, despite adamant denial from the commander-in-chief himself.

Now the gate suffix is attached to terms where some dishonesty is suspected.

The press knew Nixon was full-of-shit, in the same way Janet Jackson’s explanation for her exposed breast was due to an unbelievable ‘wardrobe malfunction.’ The media could smell a rat, and in every case, they relish the opportunity to expose such inaccuracies in the story of a person in the spotlight.

In the late 1990’s, examples such as Zippergate , Peckergate and Fornigate were applied to President Bill Clinton and his sexual practices. These terms were used because like Nixon’s transgressions, these were rationalized with use of lies. Remember, Mr. Clinton did not have sexual relations with Monica Lewinsky. It was a cigar. A non-Cuban cigar to be specific.

This blending of words has given birth to terms such as Dianagate, Travelgate and Papergate.

These words are often referred to as portmanteaus, a term coined by Lewis Carroll to define lexical creations in his famous poem Jaberwocky. Portmanteau is a dated expression which refers to a suitcase with several compartments, which is an accurate analogy of the packing-up of multiple meanings into a single word.

The use of the gate suffix is by far my least favorite example of blending words, but there are others. Some of these examples are so prominently used that identifying them as portmanteaus may not be that fitting anymore. This includes terms such as edutainment and infotainment.

More so, the aholic affix has been attached to more words than can be recorded. How often does shopaholic or chocaholic appear in print? Far too often. Even if it’s once, that’s one time too many.

The blending of words must be abolished in order to retain the academic value of the English language. Before long, it could become a dialect of jargon and slang, where even a student qorking towards a Masters in English could be caught referring to terms like netiquette or spamouflage.

It’s far too easy to get caught-up in the allure of using blended words such as those mentioned above. Like clichés, they identify laziness on the part of the writer or speaker.

The solution is simple; stop using such words. Reach for your thesaurus, better yet hold the shift button and F7 simultaneously and prepare to discover an all-you-can-eat linguistic buffet. Refuse the urge to be lazy – and remember – the best writers are usually workaholics, so don’t be afraid to apply a little extra effort.

Tautology is the New Black…

Another aspect of language that can irritate speakers and readers alike is the usage of combinations of words that overlap each other in meaning. Tautology is essentially saying what you’ve already said. This includes examples such as the blatant faux-pas past experiences and invited guests.

This variety of linguistic overkill also occurs with word derivations. If you mean to say ironic, but would prefer to use ironical, please step away from the keyboard.

They both mean the exact same thing. This also applies to rhythmic versus rhythmical or problematic versus problematical.

In some cases, perhaps because of phonetic ease or just sheer confusion, some als have supplanted their original usages. With the example of rhetoric and rhetorical, the latter won out, making phrases such as rhetoric questions and rhetoric eloquences obsolete. On the other hand, in the battle between tragic and tragical, the shorter version triumphed.

Why use ironical when ironic has the same function? Maybe the ignorant enjoy adding an al to the end of such words to sound more educated, but the reality is that using such words only identifies somebody as sophomoric. Are we really just adding high-bred suffixes and classically inspired endings for the sake of sounding more profound? The answer is unfortunately a resounding yes.

Before you open your dust-covered dictionary to prove me wrong, the suffix al does have its uses.

In some cases, adding an al to the ending of an adjective can create a new adjective in itself. These new words have become accepted in academic circles and dictionaries. Where comic is an intent to be humourous, comical is humour found in something that was all together not intended to be funny at all.

For example, humour can be found in the most tragic of occurrences – this is where the al in comical is most useful. And that’s tragic, not tragical, another derived adjective that has no right to be printed.

Unfortunately, these aforementioned abuses of the English language will likely continue to mar formal writing. A solution must be identified.

Misuses of English have permeated every demographic and institution where it is spoken. A band-aid effect, such as hefty fines for public usage of words such as ‘irregardless’ or uttering notions like very mediocre might be an option. Perhaps in the United States, being found guilty of such infractions could result in the loss of a person’s right to the franchise of voting like it has for the incarcerated.

A more plausible remedy could be to have the writers and editors of the world take a more academic approach to their work.

Dissuade yourself from using clichés, as tempting as they can be. When trying to determine if something is coincidental, revert to the dictionary feature on your word processors, it will help. Stop using qualifying terms for words like unique and average, and steer away from words that aren’t even words at all. Blending words is novice and should be avoided at all costs.

If those who make a buck of the language can begin using it as it was intended, then hopefully with time these correct tendencies will begin to push the idioms of shit down the slippery slope and off the edge.

Only then will the dialect derelicts begin using the right words, irregardless of how difficult that may be.