by Eva van Loon
A recent US essay states that the degree of “lexical diversity” in a speech makes a difference in how intensely the audience listens. Apparently Clinton, McCain, and Obama during the recent election were “very unique” in crafting speeches “more different than others.”
Then, this yew-neekly horrible example of American Englese: “Using more different words forces the listener to more actively process.”
Only America can split an infinitive so magnificently!
Even the computer, a yew-neekly stupid instrument, suggested a right-click for grammar help when I typed that sentence. Just for fun, I right-clicked. Sure enough, Dumbo computer thought the sentence was a “fragment” and more or less politely suggested I revise it. (This so called grammar program couldn’t identify a verb if it waltzed across the screen, skirts flying, one hand on the subject’s shoulder and the other caressing the object of its affections.)
I’m beginning to think Englese is a eunuch. A yew-nuck is someone whose gonads are gone. To me, such careless botching of language, like this essay, leaves blood and phlegm on the page (along with fat red editing marks in my yew-neek handwriting). The language no longer gives birth to meaning. It’s just…a bloody mess.
Different in English is an adjective. Each adjective “takes” its favorite from the almost fifty prepositions standing around the edges of the language, longing to be asked to dance by some handsome adjective. In the old days of Standard English, little old from could always count on hunky different (look at those eyebrows on the effs!) to choose her. Nowadays, that cheap chick than sidles in there before frumpy from can flash her beau an answering eff.
If Englese wants to play cross-dressing games with conjunctions and prepositions, well, that may be just a sign of the times:
Englese: Canadian politicians are different than any others.
English: Canadian politicians are different from any others.
If America can elect a self-styled “mutt” as president and allow the odd same-sex marriage, can Englese dump from in favor of partnering than? Not on my linguistic dance floor—hearing different than is tantamount to the phonograph needle scraping across the vinyl.
From is yew-neek in her ability to partner different. She’s the one and only prep who fits with him, just as preposition with is always the partner for compatible. Can we really afford to mess with these yew-neek relationships?
Yew-neek (unique, for you fanatic spellers) means there’s only one, by the way. Calling something more unique or most unique is not merely a mathematical impossibility similar to being a little bit pregnant, or maybe slightly dead, but turns yew-neek into a yew-nuck—it loses its force.
Englese: Obama is very unique in crafting speeches more different than others.
English: Obama is unique in crafting speeches more varied than others.
Hey! Why did different change to varied in the English version?
It’s time to let out one of juicy little scandals of English.
There are quite a few adjectives who have done the same dastardly deed as different did, only to take little holidays in Englese, flirting with parts of speech they have no business playing with, like conjunctions: Different married from in a quiet civil ceremony many years ago. It seemed such a stable marriage until recently, when, like so many adjectives, different set out to prove he was no yew-nuck, but so far has succeeded in proving only that faithless is his second name.
Perhaps different is going through a mid-life crisis. His cousin, differ the verb, is still pure and strong, as in I beg to differ, but different doesn’t even bother to dress properly for work or play. Take these examples:
Englese: There’s different reasons for Obama’s lexical diversity. Using more different words forces the listener to more actively process.
English: There are several reasons for Obama’s lexical diversity.
Using more varied words forces the listener to process more actively.
“Different from what? More different from what?” screams Madame English on hearing Englese. “You’re so fuzzy! What do you mean? And what did you do with from? Leave her at home again? You…you monster!”
Sometimes Englese lets things go too far. Here’s a yew-neek reason to force different to bring his spouse, from, along with him in public—to prevent Englese from becoming a yew-nuck, a language incapable of spawning true meaning.
Notice we un-split the infinitive? These Englese verbs—no shame! Sitting around the language dance floor in short skirts, elbows on knees spread wide apart! Hold this aspirin firmly between the to and the verb, girls—didn’t Mama English ever teach you how to behave in public?
Here are the rules of the dance: (1) different always dances with from; (2) to doesn’t let any word get between her and her infinitive verb; (3) unique is a bare-naked lady who never wears modifiers, and (4) different is tired of being asked to dance in almost every sentence and wishes you would ask guys like varied, several, or all those bored numbers standing on the sidelines to do the job instead. Happy verbal dancing!