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Friday, May 30, 2014

Linguistic Arrogance

Recently my brother texted me a funny story he experienced while out in Monterey where he is being paid to live on the beach and learn Chinese. We can dissect the blatant injustice of the situation later. For now we’ll refer to the amusing incident.

While in class my brother used the phrase “I could care less” to express his opinion on a matter under discussion. A classmate immediately launched into a heated and well-rehearsed soliloquy about the grammatical incorrectness of the phrase and the abuse it suffers at the tongues of English speakers. The real phrase, he asserted, ought to be “I couldn’t care less,” which informs the audience that the speaker is incapable of feeling anything on the topic under discussion whatsoever. After enduring a three-to-five minute lecture on his misuse of the phrase, my brother attempted briefly to explain that his use was intentional and that he, as a Linguist (mind the cap), knew both sides of the argument and had made a conscious decision to “break the rule.” Naturally, the classmate retaliated with the argument that they were all linguists, duh, which was why they were at DLI in Monterey in the first placeto become linguists. Thankfully my brother knew better than to attempt an explanation on the difference between a lowercase and an uppercase ‘l’.

Now, as a mad linguist—and Linguist—I have consciously abandoned any effort to correct my fellowmen’s grammar in any degree. I see nothing wrong with the verb “ain’t”—what other verb form exists as a contraction expressing the first person negation of “to be”? (I have long advocated the use of “I amn’t” but so far it hasn’t gotten quite the response needed to ensure it a place in Dr Johnson’s dictionary.) I fully support the split infinitive as well as the carefully used intentionally ambiguous dangling modifier. There is nothing wrong with “Everyone having their own opinion”—what are you going to say, “Everyone having one’s own opinion”? or the classic “Everyone having his or her own opinion”? (If you’re at all curious, historically the first option is “correct” according to the Early Modern English grammarians—including the previously mentioned Dr Johnson—who set about trying to shape up the language in the first place.) And when millions of English speaking soccer fans worldwide cheer on their respective teams do they shout “All right!” with the express intention of asserting that all is indeed right? or “Alright!” with the passing and probably unnoticed intention of expressing approval at a play well made? Though I’m sure on some psychological level they do intend to argue that all is right in the world, (they’re sitting at home with popcorn and drinks watching their favorite footballers score amazing goals—what could possibly be wrong?) I still feel safe in believing that they have no intention whatsoever of replacing the phrase with “All correct!”

Now for the phrase that got us in trouble in the first place. Correcting such a phrase puts one in a very precarious position. Let us examine the words as our opinionated classmate has set them forth: I couldn’t care less. This entails that the speaker, having considered all aspects of the topic under discussion, has come to the conclusion that he has reached his supreme emotional capacity in this realm and is eternally physically incapable of expressing or feeling any further sentiment whatsoever. Is that, in fact, what the average speaker intends to say? Apart from being a completely ludicrous statement, expressing such an idea is almost theologically dangerous. How arrogant can a person be to truly and sincerely believe that he, in the first place, knows himself to have no further ability to access emotion concerning the topic in any minute corner of his soul and, secondly, to believe such an outrageous statement so firmly that he not only expresses it willfully but forces it unyieldingly on others’ souls?
Say I were to enter a conversation in progress and, upon hearing you use the phrase “I could care less,” were to immediately leap up and demand that you amend your statement to reflect the lack of emotional capacity available to your soul’s growth upon this earth. Would you support such an attack? I imagine you’d punch me on the nose, and deservedly so.

I humbly suggest, therefore, that, for our own immortal safety, we transcend a historical decision of syntax and morphology in favor of avoiding appearing overwhelmingly arrogant. By saying “I could care less,” we can express our present lack of interest in the subject at hand without attempting to define the limits of a part of our being that none of us truly understands. The statement is no less true; we could all quite possibly care less—we simply don’t for the time being.

And if you’ve made it this far and are now thinking “I could honestly care less,” I say “Alright!”

Friday, May 23, 2014

My Love Life Has Officially Bottomed Out

Today during the four hours of doing PA (Producer’s Assistant) work for one of the senior student film projects, I was, in the latter half of the casting day, entertaining the actors as they waited to audition. Since most of the actors had come during the first two hours of casting, this consisted of the much simpler task of sitting and chatting with a young single attractive 27 year old gentleman. We had been chatting and joking around for the better part of a half hour when another actor showed up with his wife (they were both in their 80s) to audition for another part. Since the 27-year-old was waiting for the actress who was auditioning opposite him, I showed the older gentleman in to the casting room and returned to the hall to wait with the young man and the elderly woman. We talked for a few more minutes when the young actress showed up to play opposite him. At this point, as I was signing in the girl, the elderly woman motioned for me to come talk to her in private. I had no idea what she wanted. She had said she was just there for moral support for her husband. But I went and sat next to her and asked her what she needed. The following appalling conversation ensued.

Old Lady: “Are you seeing anyone, honey?”

Me: “Uh, no.”

Old Lady: “Wonderful! Because I have a son who’s single and never been married and I think you would be just perfect for him! He’s such a nice boy and he’s got lots of money” (here I look around to see make sure this isn’t a prank or something) “and he has a lovely house with a swimming pool! I think he’d like you very much! Would you be at all interested?”

What is one supposed to say? Probably not what I did say.

Me: “Um. I can give you my phone number. . . .” I proceeded to write my cell number on the back of some scrap of paper from her purse. Stupid? Very.

Old Lady: “Oh lovely! He’s such a nice young gentleman and he’s got lots of money.” I started wondering if I looked like the gold-digger type. Unfortunately for me I didn’t ask the vital question until after I had written down my number and handed it back to the lady.

Me: “Um. How old is your son?”

Old Lady: “Forty.”

I kid you not.

I credit myself with extreme self-composure as I sat quietly taking in the fact that I had just given out my phone number—my REAL phone number—to some batty old lady who was now going to give my phone number—my REAL phone number—to her forty-year-old wealthy bachelor son who had a nice house with a swimming pool. Thanks be to heaven that her husband came out at that moment and away they went together.

Do I honestly look like the appropriate companion to a forty-year-old man? I’m twenty-two! Twenty-two!!! I go for nice, artistic, intelligent guys with or without money who are, oddly enough, in my age range!!! Forty is not in my age range.

I don’t think love lives get any worse. I think I’ll go home and put cucumbers on my eyes.