You Didn’t Read What You Think I Thought I Wrote

Two things that set us humans apart from the “lesser” species are our ability to both speak aloud and to communicate with the written word. Well, there’s that, opposable thumbs, and mastery of the deep fryer. mmmmm, wings…..What? Oh, right. The problem with higher communication is that it comes with the higher probability of both misuse and miscommunication.

Going back to our caveman analogy, imagine, if you will, that Grog has a piece of mastodon and Croog wants it for himself. The conversation proceeds thusly:

Croog:              *reaches for mastodon meat*

Grog:                *THUMP* (hits Croog on head with club)

The translation is simple, and each party understood the other without the need for spoken words:

Croog:              Give me meat.

Grog:                Piss off.

When you start adding things like written and/or spoken “words” to the mix, conversations tend to become a tad more complex. For example, take the following:

“Let’s eat, Grandma” v. “Let’s eat Grandma.”

This little comparison has been circulating the social media rounds for some time, and serves to illustrate the importance of punctuation. In the first instance, a grandchild is simply suggesting that it is time for a meal, and is inviting dear old Grandma to join. In the second, the writer is either a) an incredibly literate zombie; b) Hannibal Lecter; or C) lost in the tundra and grandma was the first to drop from exposure. (Which begs the question: Why did you bring grandma to the tundra in the first place?) Still don’t understand the importance of proper grammar, punctuation and capitalization? Try this:

“Go help your Uncle Jack off his horse” v. “Go help your uncle jack….”

(Cringing yet? Good. Then I don’t have to finish typing that. Because… ewww.)

My point is that God gave us this wonderful ability to communicate for a reason. Granted, none of us are perfect, far from it. But do not “axe” me a question. I am not a lumberjack, and neither are you. (Well, you might be, but still. Ask me a question. Do not wield a weapon to pose your inquiry.) Likewise, the word “nuclear” is pronounced “NEW-klee-er,” not “NUKE-you-lar.” (coughcoughlookinatyoudubbyacoughcough) And don’t even get me started on “it depends on what the meaning of the word ‘is’ is.” Really, Bill, really? Whether or not you lied about an intern whistling your Dixie in the Oval Office does not depend on the meaning of the word “is.”

I will fully admit that, despite the frequency with which I write, I often have a tendency to mix, mince, and even spew my words as if they’ve gone through the garbage disposal. And then, in typical man fashion, I will try to fish them out of the disposal with a wooden spoon, and then inexplicably forget that the spoon, which I just used less than five seconds previously, is still in the disposal when I flip the switch back on. (You’ve done it, you know it, don’t judge me.)

Here’s another fine example: Have you ever played the telephone game at a party? You know, it’s the one where someone whispers something in someone’s ear, and then you continue around the room whispering to the person next to you, until it gets back to the person who started the chain. It goes something like this:

First person:              *whispering* “Jimmy cracked corn and I don’t care.”

Last person (of 17):  *whispering* “Jiminy Cricket’s whore has brown hair.”

Point: If you have something to say, say it directly, and say it loudly enough to be understood. No one likes cricket whores. At least I hope not, because if you did, well, then you’d have much bigger issues than poor communication.

Where was I going with all of this? I have no idea. I saw something on Facebook and it started the proverbial wheels turning. Words fascinate me. The multitude of ways in which words can be utilized, manipulated, turned around, and appropriated to either express exactly what you intend to express, or to be misinterpreted to mean the exact opposite of what you intend, amazes me. I don’t see words as tools, I see them as toys, kind of like Legos. The possible combinations in which you can combine them are infinite. Some creations will be masterpieces. (See, for example, Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment.) Some words’ use, on the other hand, much like the use of Legos, will result in conversations like this:

“Look what I made!”

“That’s great buddy! That’s a fantastic, uh, um, what is that?”

So the moral of the story is this: The fact that you’re capable of making wings (and I am, oh yes, yes I am, and I have witnesses to attest to my wingy awesomeness) does not mean that you shouldn’t be careful with the fryer. Now I’m hungry. With that, I’m going to go eat readers.

Wait, I meant… dammit.

© J.J. Goodman 2013. All rights reserved.