Wednesday, July 27, 2005

postal scrotum: Kevin the fucking dick

Joel writes in:

[sic] Your a real dick with the grammar corrections. [sic] i couldn't stop laughing. [sic] If'n it makes [sic] ya feel [sic] betta I have been reading your blog for over a year and I still [sic] does not know what [sic] da fuck [sic] you's talking about. But one thing is for sure I am going to start proofreading all my posts like 3 or 4 times before I post them.

I love it.

Trivia: the word sic is Latin for "so/thus" or "yes." When you see it after an error in a given text, it's an editor's remark: "Yup; dat's wut he akshually wroted."

In truth, I'm pretty tolerant of errors these days. Mellowing with age, suffering erectile dysfunction. Sadness and ennui. My life is a parched vagina, thirsting for the sweet tongue of a young, nubile lesbian.

Life as a language Nazi isn't easy. I used to be plagued by people who found my own typos and brain farts and made a show of quoting them back at me. Such idiots were operating on the assumption that I considered my own command of English beyond reproach. Not true: I prefer to have my mistakes pointed out.

After all, which is worse: walking around with your dick hanging out of your zipper all day, or being told up-front that your schlong is doing an impression of a chest-bursting alien?


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