Last night, Ben and I were having one of those pointless, the person who goes to bed first wins, kinds of discussions. It started as a benign conversation about misuse and/or misspelling of words in online or social networking forums. Then, the next thing I knew, I was accepting, and then subsequently defending (heatedly) the title of Grammar Nazi.
My totalitarian attitude toward others’ rights to use our language centered on the notion that if you aren’t going to use it correctly, you ought not have the right to it at all. That seems fair, right? After all, we all have access to the resources that elucidate all of our linguistic conundrums. We just have to choose to care. And to demonstrate the adequate amount of doubt and humility to recognize that we might need to refer to a higher source before proceeding.
The opposing argument was that we can’t all be grammatical gymnasts and that it is unfair to punish (or, in my world, deprive) those who are less limber with the language. To which I referred to my earlier point that the correct way is readily available with a quick query of The Google.
But, OK, I suppose I can concede that the average layperson should be given some leeway. After all, we all make mistakes. Myself included—and I would be in dire straits if my poetic license were suddenly revoked.
However, what about when a person in a much higher tax bracket and authority level than I am interchanges the words cite, site, and sight with the recklessness of Evel Knievel? Or, worse, has me as the only one who smells the smoke and discovers the carnage?
That's just wrong. In fact, it's inconceivable.
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