I was walking out of a Meijer store when I was confronted by a group of petitioners. To their credit, they were braving a very cold day in order to further a cause important to them. But I had a migraine, was not in favor of their cause, and I was in a hurry to get back to the church to prepare for a worship service later that same evening.
“Sir, we need your signa-chore,” said a man who I am convinced could have passed as my twin. “If you sign,” he kept on with what I thought was an almost hyper-dramatic display of concern, “we can recall Governor Snyder and move foe-erd to help the people of Flint.” He barely took a breath, “Time is short. The people there are stuck in some trouble and they can’t ex-cape.”
I interrupted him. “You need my what?”
“We could sure use your signa-chore,” he responded with a little more volume.
“Oh, you mean my signature.”
“That’s what I said.”
“I thought you said something about doing chores.”
“Never mind,” I said and took the petition to give it a glance. “This doesn’t say anything about something that used to be a cape.”
“You said something about an ‘ex-cape.’”
“I don’t understand.”
“I don’t either.”
“This is a petition to recall Governor Snyder,” he said with some uncomfortable emphasis.
“Oh,” I said acting as though I finally understood. “Ah, no thanks. He’s doing the best he can. But keep warm, okay?”
“Yeah, thanks. You too… (Jerk.)”
In most circumstances I would think that the pollsters and petitioners are the ones serving in the roll of antagonist. I do realize that I assumed the role in this situation, and I suppose that if I could do it all over again, it would be different. But I did note for you in the beginning the multiple factors which played into my scrappy demeanor, yes? There is still another that I did not mention – my concern for language.
In the instance I noted above, there were only a few irksome mispronunciations, some of which may be attributed to regional linguistic differences while others are just a result of gross negligence. Regardless, the next time you are out and about, listen very carefully to your fellow humans communicating with one another and you’ll notice that American society is quite literally swimming in vernacular carelessness.
Still, what care is there for this? The care is that in our society in general, “lazy” appears to be overtaking “diligent.” Language usage is one place to see it occurring, and by this, I mean that the lazy pronunciations are overtaking the correct pronunciations as most common, even to the point that those who guard the language are removing what is correct for what is popular. For example, the term is correctly spelled “never mind” and yet “nevermind” is more common and will make its debut in the Webster dictionary next year. Subtle, yes, but it won’t be long before “dialate” replaces “dilate,” “orientated” outweighs “oriented,” or “excettera” overshadows “et cetera.”
Now, don’t get me wrong. I know that language evolves. It’s why we now say “Halloween” instead of “All Hallow’s Eve.” Nevertheless, I have my limits, and I promise you that when “liberry” swaps places of acceptability with “library,” I’m going to become a full time speaker of Latin. Yes, it’s a dead language, but a dead language is an unchanging and precise language. There’s a reason the scientists still use it.
I say all of this as I sit here sipping the third of four Bourbon samples I was given for consideration: Michter’s Small Batch Original Sour Mash Whiskey. By the way, it’s not hwiskey, it’s whiskey. The “h” follows the “w” and it is silent. Don’t feel as though you must convince your listeners that the “h” exists. If they didn’t already learn it in school, they’ll most likely see it on the bottle.
This particular edition from Michter’s is a jumbled mispronunciation of what it means to be whiskey and I could never justify spending $45 to own it.
The nose hovers only slightly above my least favorite Bourbon – Jim Beam. There is barely any difference, except that the Michter’s does manage to deliver enough of a cloying invitation that one at least wants to follow through to the sip. The first time I ever smelled Jim Beam, I dumped it into the empty glass of a friend next to me when he wasn’t looking. He liked the stuff, but for me it was a good riddance.
Having taken a sip, I can’t tell if this thing really knows what kind of whiskey it wants to be. Is it a rye? Is corn its thing? I don’t know. It is struggling to speak properly. I do taste the sweetness mentioned in the nosing, but it leaves the impression that it is more of an artificial flavoring than a result of natural processes. I think they added a drop of the raspberry, or maybe the cherry, flavoring used to make Flintstones vitamins.
The finish is a medium grazing of barrel spice with what seemed like a little bit of salted caramel. Not bad, but not good enough to make this a preferred edition.
Although this “hwiskey” “supposably” has a “volumptuous” flavor with exceptional “foilage,” I just didn’t get it. I “prolly” won’t go for it if I ever come “acrossed” it again.