Your prob­a­bly sit­ting their on you’re couch reed­ing this like, “I’m a native Eng­lish speak­er I don’t knead a lessen in gram­mer.”

If that sen­tence made you want to die on the inside, then this blog is for YOU! Let’s get some things straight though.

First rule of grammar club:

We DO NOT make fun of incorrect grammar usage by someone who speaks English as a second language (ESL) because

you prob­a­bly can’t explain why it’s wrong. I’ve rarely heard some­one laugh at a poor­ly writ­ten sign and say, “HAHAHAHHA MORPHOLOGY STRIKES AGAIN!”

A per­son who uses ESL prob­a­bly knows more about Eng­lish than you do; as a native Eng­lish speak­er we take the rules for grant­ed and don’t ques­tion them, but some­one learn­ing Eng­lish is like “THIS IS THE STUPIDEST LANGUAGE” and in many ways, it is! Remem­ber this old gem?

and this clas­sic:

A lot of the rules we were taught grow­ing up (and by we I mean 30-some­things and above who remem­ber dia­gram­ming sen­tences in grade school. If you were me, it was the BEST! If you were a nor­mal per­son, it was the worst…but if you’re read­ing this, you’re in the for­mer camp).

But here’s the thing (ack! I start­ed a sen­tence with but! Shame!) the rea­sons we were told we couldn’t do cer­tain things are not rel­e­vant any­more. For exam­ple, one of the­se ancient rules is “you must not split an infini­tive.” WHY MUST WE NOT??????? Because (eeek I start­ed a sen­tence with ‘because’!! I FEEL LIKE A MILLENNIAL!!! I’M GONNA STAY UP PAST 9 TONIGHT!!!) Lat­in.  The infini­tive in Eng­lish takes the form ‘to (verb)’ as in “to go”. So when Cap­tain Kirk says “to boldy go” he is split­ting up that sexy infini­tive cou­pling with a moth­er­fuck­ing adverb. WTF amirite? Here’s the thing though, in Lat­in, “to go” is only one word, “ire”…BUT WE DON’T SPEAK LATIN ANYMORE.

{Can I side track to nerd town for a sec? K thanks. Before I went to grad­u­ate school for Speech Lan­guage Pathol­o­gy I had to brush up on some basics, but I real­ized that the­se basics weren’t exact­ly basic to your aver­age native Eng­lish speak­er. I fell so deeply mad­ly in love with my Pho­net­ics text­books (and teacher, ahem) and as a result fell so SO back in love with lan­guage.

Get­ting out­side the realm of gram­mar specif­i­cal­ly, here’s an exam­ple of a super awe­some thing: an allo­phone! So in Eng­lish, we’ve got the­se let­ters that makes sounds, let’s take the let­ter /t/for exam­ple: it’s called a phone­me; it rep­re­sents a sound. When you weren’t look­ing, /t/ went out and made a fam­i­ly! That’s right, /t/ has it’s own fuck­ing fam­i­ly, and they are called phones. The [t] in tar is dif­fer­ent from the [t] in star; if you put your hand in front of your mouth when you say “tar” you will feel a puff of air, and that is called an aspi­rat­ed [t] and has it’s own sep­a­rate sym­bol! The [t] in “writer” sounds like a [d] when spo­ken, so that gets ITS OWN SYMBOL (called a flap) and this goes on, AND THAT’S JUST ENGLISH! The­se oth­er /t/ sounds are allo­phones of /t/, aka, bas­tard chil­dren.

And don’t get me start­ed (yep I start­ed a sen­tence with AND; screw you, Ann Lan­ders) on how beau­ti­ful actu­al 3D depic­tions of spo­ken lan­guage are.}

End side track…you for­got you were in brack­ets didn’t you! We’re back to sassy town.

The 2nd rule of grammar club:

We DO make fun of the president of the United States if he makes a grammatical error, and here’s why:


Going to leave you with a cou­ple won­der­ful links: one will take you to a twit­ter account called Trump­Gram­mar…no expla­na­tion need­ed, and the sec­ond is a link to a study by CMU that found Trump’s gram­mar to be just below a 6th grade lev­el, Aslan save us all.

PEACE OUT (that’s right I’m end­ing on a prepo­si­tion. EAT IT.)

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