Grammar Peeves
- Thread starter NMPeters
- Start date
- Reaction score
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Some people‘s children...
Must be a slow work day if you have nothing better to do than whinge about other people‘s spelling and grammar. I‘d rather my chain of command worry about my soldier skill than spelling Bee try-outs.
Must be a slow work day if you have nothing better to do than whinge about other people‘s spelling and grammar. I‘d rather my chain of command worry about my soldier skill than spelling Bee try-outs.
- Reaction score
- 1
- Points
- 230
I far as I‘m concerned, it was an observation, not a whine. And a part of a soldier‘s skill is communication, and part of the chain of commands responsibilities is professional development of their soldiers.
While weapons handles rates higher, a solider being able to communicate is important also. If you look at the PER there is a section on written communications. If a person wants to get higher so they become part of the chain and look after the soldiers skills must be an effective communicator, and that includes written.
While weapons handles rates higher, a solider being able to communicate is important also. If you look at the PER there is a section on written communications. If a person wants to get higher so they become part of the chain and look after the soldiers skills must be an effective communicator, and that includes written.
- Reaction score
- 0
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- 410
Hahaha, ma‘am you will never stop correcting people on that in NS, from what I hear it‘s a regional problem.
People from all over look at us like we have 9 heads because of this; You can tell which profs are from NS because they always use this.
- Reaction score
- 18
- Points
- 530
I don‘t see it much on here, but "irregardless" gets my hackles up. When people say "orientate", that makes my skin crawl.
Alas, I am not perfect, however. A poor country boy from NB, I still come up with colloquialisms that make my wife laugh at me. My dialect has its own website www.dooryard.ca
Alas, I am not perfect, however. A poor country boy from NB, I still come up with colloquialisms that make my wife laugh at me. My dialect has its own website www.dooryard.ca
- Reaction score
- 5
- Points
- 430
Hmmmm, 4 for, and 23 against effective grammar and some effort at acceptable spelling to ensure clear communications. Seems to present a significant divide in the genral way we train soldiers and subalterns, doesn‘t it. Perhaps we should dispense with grammar and spelling, I know the junior officers of the Army would happily skip correcting the spelling and grammar of some of the PER and assessment drafts they receive from NCOs. After all, you guys seem convinced it‘s good enough for the troops just like it is the first time it‘s dumped from brain housing case to paper (screen). The next time your own career desires require you to write, whether it‘s requesting a snake-eating course, a financial benefit or a statement to accompany a CF98 that may mean a medical pension 20 years from now, it needs to be clearly and concisely presented without leaving anything to misinterpretation. It‘s never too early to start practicing your written communication skills. (And they do, after all, get noted on your PER.)
(Edited for accuracy of count following later comments by our Gunners.)
(Edited for accuracy of count following later comments by our Gunners.)
- Reaction score
- 18
- Points
- 530
LOL - I wasn‘t condoning bad grammar. As a matter of fact... one of my sidelines is Assistant Editor of the Arizona Outdoorsman magazine. I spend a great deal of time correcting the efforts of other people to write (hunters and fishermen, no less)
- Reaction score
- 0
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- 410
If the shoe fits ... (or as they also say: "If the FOO ...") 
If the cliché fits ... use it
Eschewed by experts and scorned by scholars, tried-and-true metaphors ignite a fierce war of words But others argue familiar phr
OLIVIA WARD, FEATURE WRITER (Toronto Star)
For an overstressed newspaper editor, the tipping point was, well, the tipping point.
"That has to be the most irritating phase ever," she grumbled. "When I hear it, I want to scream."
She was wrong. According to the British-based Plain English Campaign, which monitors clichés, the most unbearable phrase of the year is "at the end of the day," a winner for its sheer volume of repetition.
To lovers of good usage, clichés are the junk food of language, proof that English is going to **** in a hand basket. Or at least, over the hill, `round the bend and down the drain. Bottoming out cannot be far behind.
"A language where `everything goes,‘ where the foul, callous, sick, mindless, un-grown-up remark finds an accepted place, is as doomed as Nero," raged University of Bristol author Basil Cottle in his 1975 textbook lament, The Plight of English.
But such are clichés‘ number and variety â †as well as persistence in every known language and historical period â †that they must have some redeeming qualities.
Eschewed by experts, scorned by scholars, the humble cliché is what gets journalists and clergymen, business folk and politicians through many a dark and stormy night.
Officially, a cliché is defined as anything that is overused to the point of being meaningless. It‘s also criticized as predictable and unimaginative â †which may explain the explosive growth of the genre at a time of unpredictable and unprecedented events.
For a politician, reassurance is an important factor in getting and keeping power.
Pressing the flesh, gaining momentum, getting the vote out are all grist for the political mill. And (in a worst-case scenario) if scandal strikes, the astute politician must declare the opposition is on a mere fishing expedition, and there is no smoking gun.
When caught red-handed, he can take full responsibility for his actions, and in a pinch, announce it‘s time to move on.
"Cliché adds a personal touch," says Doug Lavender, an experienced speechwriter based in Toronto. "It adds colour, warmth and personality, and makes the speaker seem more human, and more accessible."
Some politicians are such skilled speechifiers that they create their own clichés that live after their careers are long over; Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau‘s "just society," and President John F. Kennedy‘s "ask not what your country can do for you" are part of rhetorical history.
In America, a recent master of folksy but straight-from-the-shoulder speech was President Bill Clinton, who made famous the phrase "I feel your pain."
"When you read, you‘re using your critical faculties," says Lavender.
"When you hear a speech, you‘re more aware of delivery. You aren‘t immediately analysing what‘s being said."
Originality in speeches is like a bracing cool shower, but the voting public often prefers the tepid bath of the tried and true.
Apart from reassurance however, says the language Web site Cliché and Word Journey, "the natural prosodic flow of the cliché is pleasing to the ear." And, it adds, scientific research shows that common figures of speech are stored in the right brain hemisphere, allowing rapid comprehension.
Brevity, says Brighton University English professor Rafael Salkie, is no bad thing.
Those who criticize clichés for their shorthand value should look at the alternatives more closely: "(perfect English) is a myth used by elite groups to defend their privileges and resist change."
Speeches of the past were often lengthy, convoluted and tedious in their attempt to be strictly correct and accurate, he points out. At times, listeners felt they had lost the plot.
Nevertheless defenders of "pure English" look to a past golden age when proper English was as important as proper manners.
"If English is allowed to degenerate into a Babel of regional dialects, social stratifications, vulgarities, jargon and juvenile slang," huffs grammarian Lincoln Barnett in The Treasure of Our Tongue, "the hope of true understanding among the millions of English-speaking people around the earth is commensurately dimmed. In the health of the English language the health of Western Civilization may well reside."
Not every expert would agree with him that "vulgarities" such as clichés are the death knell of English speech.
"Like junk food, they have their place," says Joanne Buckley, assistant professor of multimedia at McMaster University, and author of Fit to Print. "A straight diet of cliché makes your writing fat and sick. A little bit is interesting, and adds flavour."
Throughout history, cliché has been the mainstay of many a speaker and writer.
The British parliament helped it along with a long list of colourful phrases meant to add smoothness and sophistication to run-of-the-mill speeches made by those whose natural habitat was the hills of Yorkshire rather than the halls of government.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
`Like junk food, they have
their place. A straight diet
of cliché makes your writing fat and sick. A little bit is interesting, and adds flavour‘
Joanne Buckley
Author of Fit to Print
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By now, few people have ever seen a mill run, however. Nor have they locked a barn door after any bolting horses. And, if they were served humble pie â †once a favourite political phrase â †they would be as puzzled by its origins as its ingredients.
Some classic clichés still linger, long after their meaning has vanished. Working like a Trojan is as dead as a dodo. But some speakers would pick a bone with anyone who suggested it should fall by the wayside just yet.
In the long and useful history of cliché, all roads lead to Rome â †and beyond.
The Greek poet Homer‘s epics were filled with references to the importance of "fine speech" to anyone with pretension to greatness. Leaning snappy phrases was part of a thinking man‘s education.
"Your aged father sent me out to teach you to be a fine speaker and a man of action," the aged tutor Phoinix told the disgruntled Achilles, who was sulking in his tent on the plains of Troy in no mood for rhetorical lessons.
By the 5th century B.C., the Athenian city state was not only a symbol of democracy â †all 40,000 of its adult male residents automatically belonged to its legislative Assembly â †but a vast rhetorical gymnasium, with thousands of citizens turning up for monthly meetings to vie with each other for sound bites.
To fight their way onto the governing 500-member executive council, Athenians had to rely on their oratory in a bid for election. Those who failed the test hired some of the world‘s first speechwriters, and delivered their lines by memory.
This was the age of the Sophists, masters of cliché, who received a bum rap from Plato. The great philosopher believed that learning rhetoric for political advantage, rather than speaking from philosophical conviction, was no better than prostitution.
His special target was Gorgias, the father of all spin-doctors, who earned a good living from fees for his popular all-occasion speeches, and believed that "words are the vehicles of suggestion, persuasion and belief." Like all good cliché-mongers, Gorgias preferred form to substance, and wasn‘t afraid to say so.
In spite of Plato‘s slurs, Gorgias‘ influence has survived the ages in the courts as well as the parliaments.
The Roman historian and senator Tacitus, in the 2nd century A.D., followed in his footsteps when he pointed out, "the breastplate and the sword are not stronger defence on the battlefield than eloquence is to a man amid the perils of prosecution."
Until the age of mass media, clichés were fewer than they are now because they had a longer route to travel to the popular imagination.
"The speed with which clichés get into common parlance today is terrific," says Buckley. "We‘re influenced very much by the media. Despite diversity, we read the same news stories, and see the same television shows. Words travel very quickly. I‘ve told my class that we could invent a word today, and hear it on CNN tomorrow."
The result, she says, is homogenized speech: "the danger is that we all begin to sound alike."
In countries that were once isolated, such as Albania, the floodgates of cliché opened with global markets.
Now, phrases travel from Toronto to Tirana in seconds via the Internet, cell phone and satellite television. The same is true of the former Soviet Union. Russian teens upbraided by Soviet-schooled language xenophobes simply tell them to get over it.
The Washington-based magazine The Progressive Review, which tabulates clichés used on the Google internet search engine, lists "real time," "need to know" and "next-generation" as three of the leading clichés of the past three months.
Others are "strategic planning," "state of the art," "cutting-edge," "world class," "mission statement" and "bottom line."
However, it observes, "put it behind us" is indeed behind us. The popular political phrase rated only 7,800 hits â †compared with "real time‘s" 13 million.
Why are clichés so irritating to their critics?
"Woolly phrases equal woolly thinking," scolds Scottish Arts Council chairman and writer Magnus Linklater in the weekly Scotland on Sunday. "Constant repetition has hammered phrases so flat that they have lost any resonance they once had."
And, he says, "mission statements which guarantee diversity, environmentally acceptable policies aimed at a coalition of the willing, issues around modernization that are relevant to the bottom line, anything that moves forward, faces tough choices, draws a line in the sand or encourages blue-sky thinking, is, at the end of the day, a barrier rather than an aid to understanding."
Other language buffs are more forgiving.
"Clichés can be effective if they don‘t lose a sense of irony," says Buckley.
"Using words from The Simpsons can be a sophisticated way of communicating, for instance. There‘s a built-in irony in context that we may not give credit for."
So, at the end of the day, to cliché or not to cliché?
"If you do decide to use a cliché, don‘t apologize for it," advises the Handbook of English for university students.
"Bashfulness will not make it smell any fresher."
If the cliché fits ... use it
Eschewed by experts and scorned by scholars, tried-and-true metaphors ignite a fierce war of words But others argue familiar phr
OLIVIA WARD, FEATURE WRITER (Toronto Star)
For an overstressed newspaper editor, the tipping point was, well, the tipping point.
"That has to be the most irritating phase ever," she grumbled. "When I hear it, I want to scream."
She was wrong. According to the British-based Plain English Campaign, which monitors clichés, the most unbearable phrase of the year is "at the end of the day," a winner for its sheer volume of repetition.
To lovers of good usage, clichés are the junk food of language, proof that English is going to **** in a hand basket. Or at least, over the hill, `round the bend and down the drain. Bottoming out cannot be far behind.
"A language where `everything goes,‘ where the foul, callous, sick, mindless, un-grown-up remark finds an accepted place, is as doomed as Nero," raged University of Bristol author Basil Cottle in his 1975 textbook lament, The Plight of English.
But such are clichés‘ number and variety â †as well as persistence in every known language and historical period â †that they must have some redeeming qualities.
Eschewed by experts, scorned by scholars, the humble cliché is what gets journalists and clergymen, business folk and politicians through many a dark and stormy night.
Officially, a cliché is defined as anything that is overused to the point of being meaningless. It‘s also criticized as predictable and unimaginative â †which may explain the explosive growth of the genre at a time of unpredictable and unprecedented events.
For a politician, reassurance is an important factor in getting and keeping power.
Pressing the flesh, gaining momentum, getting the vote out are all grist for the political mill. And (in a worst-case scenario) if scandal strikes, the astute politician must declare the opposition is on a mere fishing expedition, and there is no smoking gun.
When caught red-handed, he can take full responsibility for his actions, and in a pinch, announce it‘s time to move on.
"Cliché adds a personal touch," says Doug Lavender, an experienced speechwriter based in Toronto. "It adds colour, warmth and personality, and makes the speaker seem more human, and more accessible."
Some politicians are such skilled speechifiers that they create their own clichés that live after their careers are long over; Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau‘s "just society," and President John F. Kennedy‘s "ask not what your country can do for you" are part of rhetorical history.
In America, a recent master of folksy but straight-from-the-shoulder speech was President Bill Clinton, who made famous the phrase "I feel your pain."
"When you read, you‘re using your critical faculties," says Lavender.
"When you hear a speech, you‘re more aware of delivery. You aren‘t immediately analysing what‘s being said."
Originality in speeches is like a bracing cool shower, but the voting public often prefers the tepid bath of the tried and true.
Apart from reassurance however, says the language Web site Cliché and Word Journey, "the natural prosodic flow of the cliché is pleasing to the ear." And, it adds, scientific research shows that common figures of speech are stored in the right brain hemisphere, allowing rapid comprehension.
Brevity, says Brighton University English professor Rafael Salkie, is no bad thing.
Those who criticize clichés for their shorthand value should look at the alternatives more closely: "(perfect English) is a myth used by elite groups to defend their privileges and resist change."
Speeches of the past were often lengthy, convoluted and tedious in their attempt to be strictly correct and accurate, he points out. At times, listeners felt they had lost the plot.
Nevertheless defenders of "pure English" look to a past golden age when proper English was as important as proper manners.
"If English is allowed to degenerate into a Babel of regional dialects, social stratifications, vulgarities, jargon and juvenile slang," huffs grammarian Lincoln Barnett in The Treasure of Our Tongue, "the hope of true understanding among the millions of English-speaking people around the earth is commensurately dimmed. In the health of the English language the health of Western Civilization may well reside."
Not every expert would agree with him that "vulgarities" such as clichés are the death knell of English speech.
"Like junk food, they have their place," says Joanne Buckley, assistant professor of multimedia at McMaster University, and author of Fit to Print. "A straight diet of cliché makes your writing fat and sick. A little bit is interesting, and adds flavour."
Throughout history, cliché has been the mainstay of many a speaker and writer.
The British parliament helped it along with a long list of colourful phrases meant to add smoothness and sophistication to run-of-the-mill speeches made by those whose natural habitat was the hills of Yorkshire rather than the halls of government.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
`Like junk food, they have
their place. A straight diet
of cliché makes your writing fat and sick. A little bit is interesting, and adds flavour‘
Joanne Buckley
Author of Fit to Print
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
By now, few people have ever seen a mill run, however. Nor have they locked a barn door after any bolting horses. And, if they were served humble pie â †once a favourite political phrase â †they would be as puzzled by its origins as its ingredients.
Some classic clichés still linger, long after their meaning has vanished. Working like a Trojan is as dead as a dodo. But some speakers would pick a bone with anyone who suggested it should fall by the wayside just yet.
In the long and useful history of cliché, all roads lead to Rome â †and beyond.
The Greek poet Homer‘s epics were filled with references to the importance of "fine speech" to anyone with pretension to greatness. Leaning snappy phrases was part of a thinking man‘s education.
"Your aged father sent me out to teach you to be a fine speaker and a man of action," the aged tutor Phoinix told the disgruntled Achilles, who was sulking in his tent on the plains of Troy in no mood for rhetorical lessons.
By the 5th century B.C., the Athenian city state was not only a symbol of democracy â †all 40,000 of its adult male residents automatically belonged to its legislative Assembly â †but a vast rhetorical gymnasium, with thousands of citizens turning up for monthly meetings to vie with each other for sound bites.
To fight their way onto the governing 500-member executive council, Athenians had to rely on their oratory in a bid for election. Those who failed the test hired some of the world‘s first speechwriters, and delivered their lines by memory.
This was the age of the Sophists, masters of cliché, who received a bum rap from Plato. The great philosopher believed that learning rhetoric for political advantage, rather than speaking from philosophical conviction, was no better than prostitution.
His special target was Gorgias, the father of all spin-doctors, who earned a good living from fees for his popular all-occasion speeches, and believed that "words are the vehicles of suggestion, persuasion and belief." Like all good cliché-mongers, Gorgias preferred form to substance, and wasn‘t afraid to say so.
In spite of Plato‘s slurs, Gorgias‘ influence has survived the ages in the courts as well as the parliaments.
The Roman historian and senator Tacitus, in the 2nd century A.D., followed in his footsteps when he pointed out, "the breastplate and the sword are not stronger defence on the battlefield than eloquence is to a man amid the perils of prosecution."
Until the age of mass media, clichés were fewer than they are now because they had a longer route to travel to the popular imagination.
"The speed with which clichés get into common parlance today is terrific," says Buckley. "We‘re influenced very much by the media. Despite diversity, we read the same news stories, and see the same television shows. Words travel very quickly. I‘ve told my class that we could invent a word today, and hear it on CNN tomorrow."
The result, she says, is homogenized speech: "the danger is that we all begin to sound alike."
In countries that were once isolated, such as Albania, the floodgates of cliché opened with global markets.
Now, phrases travel from Toronto to Tirana in seconds via the Internet, cell phone and satellite television. The same is true of the former Soviet Union. Russian teens upbraided by Soviet-schooled language xenophobes simply tell them to get over it.
The Washington-based magazine The Progressive Review, which tabulates clichés used on the Google internet search engine, lists "real time," "need to know" and "next-generation" as three of the leading clichés of the past three months.
Others are "strategic planning," "state of the art," "cutting-edge," "world class," "mission statement" and "bottom line."
However, it observes, "put it behind us" is indeed behind us. The popular political phrase rated only 7,800 hits â †compared with "real time‘s" 13 million.
Why are clichés so irritating to their critics?
"Woolly phrases equal woolly thinking," scolds Scottish Arts Council chairman and writer Magnus Linklater in the weekly Scotland on Sunday. "Constant repetition has hammered phrases so flat that they have lost any resonance they once had."
And, he says, "mission statements which guarantee diversity, environmentally acceptable policies aimed at a coalition of the willing, issues around modernization that are relevant to the bottom line, anything that moves forward, faces tough choices, draws a line in the sand or encourages blue-sky thinking, is, at the end of the day, a barrier rather than an aid to understanding."
Other language buffs are more forgiving.
"Clichés can be effective if they don‘t lose a sense of irony," says Buckley.
"Using words from The Simpsons can be a sophisticated way of communicating, for instance. There‘s a built-in irony in context that we may not give credit for."
So, at the end of the day, to cliché or not to cliché?
"If you do decide to use a cliché, don‘t apologize for it," advises the Handbook of English for university students.
"Bashfulness will not make it smell any fresher."
"After all, you guys seem convinced it‘s good enough for the troops just like it is the first time it‘s dumped from brian housing case to paper (screen)."
Michael,
Who is this "Brian Housing", and what has he to do with your comments?
Cheers-Garry
Michael,
Who is this "Brian Housing", and what has he to do with your comments?
Cheers-Garry
- Reaction score
- 0
- Points
- 110
It's unfortunate, but not everyone can be an English Major eh?
M
mclipper
Guest
My biggest peeve at this time is the use of "signage" and "tentage". Could someone please explain to me when these actually became words? I was always under the impression the more than one tent was called tents, and more than one sign was referred to as signs. However, in memos and letters, and yes, even on a sign, I have seen these things referred to as signage and tentage. It drives me crazy! :rage:
