Of
Verbs, Adjectives, and Explosives
By Jason Offutt
Not many words will stop me like an Audi into a brick wall, but there are some.
"Freeze" if uttered appropriately by a policeman.
"Snake" if accompanied by a rattling sound.
"Free" if followed by the word "beer."
But there's another one. Overhearing a conversation that ended in a word I'd
strangle and bury in a shallow grave if I thought I could get away with it, I
stopped in the middle of the hallway and interrupted.
"Did you just say 'funner?'" I asked.
If I'd have stopped an average citizen walking down the street and asked this
question, I could have expected a punch in the nose. But the fact that he was
one of my students gave me a green light the size of Milwaukee.
He looked at me like I'd just caught him snitching cigarettes from his mom's
purse.
"No."
I frowned.
"Just because you stuck an 'er' on the end of a word doesn't make it a word," I
said. "The dictionary won't hurt you, a bad grade will."
Funner, deader, pregnanter all make my head spin like a P-51 Mustang chewed up
by enemy gunfire.
"More fun?" He asked, squinting an are-you-going-to-hit-me squint.
I smiled, nodded, and walked on.
It was then I realized why the world hates Americans. It's not our foreign
policy, it's not jealousy of the American way of life, and it's not the kind of
cultural imperialism that makes Simpsons references commonplace in Australia,
Japan, and throughout Western Europe.
The world hates how we speak.
You know, like when we make up verbs. "Prioritize," "Google," "We're going to
bomb your country," things like that. If we can't use our own language properly,
why should anyone listen to us? I'm sure "we're going to drop bombs on your
country" would make the U.S. more respected in the world, if not more lovable.
Of course, using proper English shouldn't stop with explosives.
Like "party." I don't know when the word "party" became a verb, but it should
stop playing dress-up right now. Party was doing just fine conjuring up images
of funny hats and ponies and birthday cakes, or at least drunken parents playing
cards, flirting with each others' wives, and throwing up in the cheese dip,
until sometime in the '80s when teenagers and college students became too lazy
to form a coherent sentence.
"Hey, bud, let's party."
Sure, Spicoli. You bring the weed, I'll bring the funny hats.
Then there's "phone."
A student asked if she could schedule an appointment with me.
"I'll phone you," she said, making a hand motion with her thumb and pinky
extended in a move I think Spock once used to disarm a Klingon.
Phone me? Anyone not used to "phone" as a verb would wonder if she was going to
call them on it or if she was going to hit them with it.
The lesson? Just because you put a noun in the place of a verb, doesn't make it
a verb. It never works for the evil twin on a soap opera, and it doesn't work
when you're interviewing for a job.
The rules for verbs are simple. A verb states action or effort. It puts
direction into a sentence. It tells how something is happening. "The tornado
ripped through the barn," tells the reader how violently the tornado hit (it
ripped) without actually saying it was violent. Using a proper noun like Scooby
as a verb, or adding "ize" to a noun is a lot like using Xerox to describe every
brand of photocopier. It cheapens the noun, is sometimes confusing, and relegates
you to the stereotype that says "yup" a lot when a television reporter asks if
they've ever seen Bigfoot.
The rules for adjectives, especially ones like "funner," are even simpler. Just
avoid them altogether and we'll throw a party for you-- I swear.
Walking through a Wal-Mart one day I saw a sign on the card swiper that read,
"This machine is broke."
Assuming the person who wrote the note didn't mean the keypad with instant
access to every citizen's bank account had no money, I took a red Sharpie out of
my pocket and changed the word to "broken."
The person behind me in line laughed.
It's good to know someone else paid attention in high school.
Humor columnist Jason Offutt teaches journalism at Northwest
Missouri State University. His first book, On Being Dad, is
available through his website at
www.jasonoffutt.com or by e-mailing him at
jason@jasonoffutt.com.
