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October 20, 2009

When badder English is gooder than good English.

I'm in Watson Lake where I'm attending a conference. Every good conference has a little break between the sessions and when the evening's activities begin. Right now, it's that time.

The break is just enough time to watch an episode of Knight Rider, but I don't have it here with me. Fawn and I will be watching all of the season one episodes together. It's nice to spend time with my wife, snuggled up on the couch, watching television from the '80s. I wish she was here now - not because I want to watch Knight Rider, of course, but because I love her and miss her.

Thinking about Knight Rider and how I came by my prize reminded me of something I wrote a little while back. You see, originally, I won first place in Megan's "Being David Hasselhoff" contest. First place was 24-hours of where I could post anything I wanted to her blog. If you don't read her blog, you should. It's a shine to the wonderfulness that is good grammar.

I really wanted second place (Season 1 of Knight Rider), so I sent Megan a copy of the following. Obviously, it worked.

Let me apologize in advance if reading it makes your brain hurt.

When badder English is gooder than good English. An Assay.
Its a raiser sharp lion betwixt yer goodness and yer gracious. I was gunnin' fir goodness to get yer number too Beaning David Kalashnikov pries (a lass, I wanted to season one of yer night riders), but ended up with gracious and got there in the first place. It coulda bean wurst, I wreckin', 'cause in steady yer knight riding, I get twenny-fore ours two rights on the snow covered hills.

Norma Lee I wood right on the snow covered hills in shades of yeller, but I dint wanna get my ol' mackytosh apple confuser wet. They don't like it when you use your floppy disk fir ta download inter the ram. Jest like on the farm.

In stud, this righting has bin dun bye pokin' a keyed board with m'digits and up-chucking it all through yer Inter-nuts. Its anime-zing world weir livin' in.

So what does a guy right-a-bout when he has unfluttered axis fir ta rite on a slog that emotes the use of good grammaticality? When I was younger than I am now, I was taught the queen's English - and thats pretty, good English if'n yer a queen. Butt I'm knot a queen and even dough I use her Royal Hiney's English olive the thyme, its knot gonna make me a queen gnome matter how much I try to be won. In stud, I decisive too jest letter loose and cellar-brake the use of the Farq's-own-English.

What's that, yer askin? You donut no what I mean, you says? What, the Farq? The Farq's-own-English?

We oh the Farq's-own-English too Charlie Farquharson. He's not reel, mind you, butt he's quite the character. He's deformed bye actor Don Harron; a man who's talents are hard too miss if'n you bean keepin' yer eyes open ovary ears.

He's a lot more than jest a peachy guy from some Dell Mountie adder-ties-mints. He was a nactor, a come median, and a leery cyst (He wrote the leer Ricks to "Annov Green Garbles the Moosie Call"). Now he's demoting mobility fer yer seniles (Click the lanky and watch yer first eppy-soda). Most impotently to me, dough, he was a nauther - won of those guise what rites yer friction and yer non-friction.

Charlie showed me that you can have yer absolutionly ambrosias grammaticabilities and still be anode worthy author. What's more, you can half only yer base sick reprehension of the English languish and still bee able two commune E. Kate some very impotent points.

Why? Bee cause insertioning malapropriatisms, in yer endos, and other watch-yer-Ma-called-its into yer righting makes people stop and think - and making people think is won of the hardest things we can doo.

But here's more meat fir yer jaw fir ta masturbate on. Charlie's first book of nun-fraction, "Histry of Canada" was about a sub-eject that most of us wood not touch, even in yer Halls of Yearning. Sew was his necks book, "Jogfree of Canada". Lurid bye his righting-style, I red them both from their fronts too there ends. Why? Because Charlie's fresh reproach took an old, dry tropic and made it inner-testing.

Sew, take a paige from good ol' Charlie Farquharson: He didn't care about his pelling or what yer grammerarians wood say. He didn't care where he put his colon or his catastrophes. He jest rote.

And you should right two, even if yer Gramma's kills are lacking. Doo knot lit yer Gramma Queens freightin' you aweigh. If you right and enjoin it, the rest will cum soon enough.

And chick out won of Charlie's books from yer lie berry well yer attic.

4 comments:

Megan said...

OW.

fireweedroots said...

Double-ow!I think I got a bleeder somewhere in the back of my head from that...

Meandering Michael said...

Megan, you knew it was coming and you read it again?

Almycke, sorry about that.

It's amazing how different the blog comments on this post are from the facebook comments.

"Ow" and "I think I got a bleeder" compared to "fork your funy!" and "ewe are two funny! Sadly eye right like this all the thyme, and not on porpoise..."

Seriously.

Jennybell said...

OK, I can't even read through all this but I HAVE to go to Facebook and copy some of my Dad's sister's post, you won't believe it!