In politics, dog years will not count

Friday's Guardian included an op-ed piece on the new Democratic senator for New York that began like this:



Copyeditor General's ruling: Dog years are long, and donkey's years are longer; still, I don't think the country is ready for animal politicians, regardless of their political longevity. For now, let's stick to measuring experience in man—or, for that matter, woman— years.

Hans will be banned from the kitchen

I was excited to discover that Boston University offers a variety of food and wine sessions, including an intensive 14-week culinary arts program that includes some of the area's top chefs (Jaques Pepin! Ana Sortun! Barbara Lynch! Jody Adams!) on the faculty.

And then I realized why it might not be such a fun experience:


I'm not exactly sure what it means, but it doesn't sound particularly appetizing, does it?

And as we're already perusing the page, let's note the inconsistency in class size. First it's this:


And then it's this:


Copyeditor General's ruling: Good cooking is about attention to detail. I hope that's more important to the culinary instructors than it is to the BU website's editor.

Retrospectives will be pretty

It's customary to end the year (or begin the next) with a summary of previous events; my Year in Review comes courtesy of Wordle, a fun site that transforms text into word clouds.



Here's to another year of finding typos, grammatical errors and proofreading failures; let's hope there's not too much to do!

Parking will be thorough and careful

This sign is doubtless familiar to anyone who passes the Changsho restaurant on Mass Ave in Cambridge, and it's certainly worth sharing with the rest of the world:



And in case you're wondering what that means:



Copyeditor General's ruling: If you feel the need to visit Changsho, I suggest you walk.

Spas will get the deep-cleansing treatment

For Christmas/birthday this year, the Copyeditor General is going to New York, to include a visit to a Spa To Be Named Later. Wisely, location and treatment decisions have been left in her hands. And so to Google.

What does one look for in a spa website? Treatment descriptions, prices, photos, of course. And also cleanliness, professionalism, attention to detail. You want assurance that the service will be perfect.



All right, perhaps it's enough to feel safe; when you're on a table, encased in mud and Saran wrap, unable to move, you at least want to know a creepy admirer isn't lurking outside.



Uh-oh. Okay, so how's this: at the very least, you want to be treated as an individual, not given some cookie-cutter experience. You want reassurance that the spa is not just half-heartedly following a template.



Copyeditor General's ruling: Reading an imperfect spa website is like discovering discarded flip-flops in your locker or getting a facial from an esthetician with a cold. In the above cases, extensive deep-tissue massage is required.

Christmas will not be so commercial

The economy is in freefall, and 40% of Americans plan to spend less on Christmas this year.

So how is a retailer supposed to encourage people to buy its products? By advertising them in every possible place. Seen in the Christmas Tree Store:



Copyeditor Generals' ruling: Is there any more insidious way for the True Meaning of Christmas (TMOC) to be overwhelmed by crass commercialism? These tree skirts have 24 pockets, presumably so a new promo can be unveiled every day leading up to December 25.

Anyway, that's not how you do Christmas advertising; this is how you do Christmas advertising:

Facebook advertisers will be forced to proofread

I've already said plenty about the grammar on Facebook. The users don't drive me nuts; it's the advertisers.

Now that it's a simple (if not cheap) process to promote an online business, it appears the hard work of writing pleasing ad copy is being taken out of the hands of marketing communications professionals and dropped in the laps of either interns or monkeys.



Copyeditor General's ruling: I think we all know who the idiot is in this situation.

The English will not be afraid of snow

Doutbless this will have been corrected by the time you see it, but I couldn't let this howler from the December 2 Guardian homepage pass unnoticed:



Copyeditor General's ruling: I've seen cars in the UK spin out on a light dusting of snow, so I know it makes people nervous. But is such a dramatic reaction really necessary?

Not even the President will be off-limits (Sir)

Dear President-elect Obama,

I see you're currently choosing your Cabinet. That's great. It's important to make the right decisions and bring in the right people. There's a lot of cleaning up to be done, and you're going to need help.

May I present, for your consideration, the possibility of a new, nominated position under the Department of Education?

I see this role as being responsible for maintaining standards of grammatical competence in all communications from commercial, non-profit and government organzations to the public: signage, posters, ads, websites — you name it. Heaven knows there are plenty of examples to justify the need.

It's time for the Copyeditor General.

I should warn you that this role should have a free hand to stamp out typos, punctuation errors and usability issues wherever they occur. And that goes right to the top, sir.

Let me explain.

It's great that your people have created change.gov to keep us up to date with the transition toward January 20. But I need to draw your attention to a few areas.

There's the serial comma issue, for instance. Are you for it or against it?







Here's the best one, sadly too large to embed here in a readable size: a paragraph that gives it to you both ways.

There are other hiccups on the site, both small and easily overlooked:



And large and frankly shocking, like the dropdown menu that (at least through yesterday) linked from this:



to this:



Thankfully, this last has now been fixed. But how long did it take?

Copyeditor General's ruling: Drop me an email, sir. I'll be waiting.

Oh, also, could you find a post for Melinda? She brought the serial comma issue to my attention, which means she's Deputy of the Week. Thanks.

Fruit baskets won't contain metadata

I haven't had much time do begin holiday shopping (or to do anything else for that matter), so this morning I tried to kick-start the process online. Unfortunately, I got derailed pretty quickly.

During a search for organic fruit-of-the-month clubs in the UK (of which there are none, it seems--there's a niche waiting to be filled), I came across the site for Pomona Fruit Baskets.

It certainly looked inviting enough.



There was a page describing the health benefits of their fruit selection:



So far, so good.

But when I went to check out the "Buy a fruit basket" page, the menu that dropped down showed this:



And the pages underneath had things like:



Copyeditor General's ruling: There's certainly nothing wrong with buying an off-the-shelf template for your company website, Pomona. But you should pick over the code and harvest out the pages that detract from the site's overall quality and visual appeal.

I mean, you wouldn't leave wrinkled grapes on a bunch, or keep moldy apples next to fresh ones, or pack over-ripe bananas underneath pineapples, would you?

Or would you?

Detail-oriented brands will check the details

I'm staying at a golf resort in Orlando, one of those frighteningly new places that seem to have risen, fully stocked with fresh towels and $25 breakfasts, out of the Florida swamp.

Everything is neat and clean and bright and climate-controlled; on a stroll through the grounds early this morning, I didn't encounter a single fellow-guest, but I did see a dozen different people whose job seemed to be preventing the grass from becoming disorderly.

So you can imagine my complete and utter delight at discovering this offering on the dessert wine list:



Copyeditor General's ruling: If your brand is centered around "superior service" and "four-diamond luxury accommodations," it's a good bet that your clientele knows its way around a wine list—or at least around an atlas. Typos like this make me wonder where else you're cutting corners.

Lewis Black won't change a thing

You've probably heard of Lewis Black, the angry truth-teller who rants about politics and culture.



Aggressive, visceral, supremely confident in his opinions. Seems like a masculine individual, right?

So I was very surprised to find this in my Twitter feed earlier this week:



Oh, Lewis! Is your message what I think it is?

Copyeditor General's ruling: Turns out that no, Lewis is not becoming Louise. The message is just a rant that "doctors" should hurry up and "cure cancer," because, as everyone knows, cancer is a single disease that can be fixed with one simple magic bullet. But that's an angry rant for another day.

Hallowe'en will not scare me

There are only eight more days to Hallowe'en (and yes, it has an apostrophe, dammit!) and I still don't know what to wear. I could go with something topical, such as:



Well, that must be an anomaly, because—



Oh, come on! The guy has only been front-page news for the last two years; it's not as though you've had no chance to see his name written down.

But I understand; his name is unusual. At least that (other) one has a more common name:



Okay, maybe we should move away from politics. How about dressing as a pop star?



Hm ... some sort of Spears/Spongebob hybrid, perhaps?

Apparently it's just too much trouble for some companies to spellcheck the names of extremely famous people.

How about a historical costume?



Perhaps we should look to more traditional Hallowe'en disguises: ghosts and witches and so on. And then what?



All right, that's it. No costumes at all this year. I'll just decorate the house. Does anyone have any tips?



Copyeditor General's ruling: I'm considering spending October 31 in an abandoned hospital next to a cemetery where bats roost. After seeing the frightening amount of poorly proofed Hallowe'en copy, it won't be scary at all.

Signwriters won't make up new movies

I still remember reading the movie listings in my local paper in 1987 and howling with laughter on seeing that my hometown theater was showing the Jack Nicholson/Susan Sarandon film Richard of Eastwick.

So I felt quite nostalgic when I saw the offerings at the Fresh Pond Cinema the other week.



Copyeditor General's ruling: I'm not too sure about Ghoast Town, but frankly Knights in Rodanthe would have made for a much more interesting narrative.

Oh, also, the listings on the other side of the board had Righteous spelled wronglyous.

Even magvertorials will have real editors

Sometimes I have to go looking for examples of poor grammar, and sometimes they just land in my lap. The latter happened this week at the hair salon, where I discovered the magazine North End Scene, published by DePasquale Ventures, which owns a number of Italian food outlets.

The North End is not an area I know well. But as it's crammed with restaurants, bakeries and an increasing number of hip boutiques, I feel I should get a better sense of its contents. So I started to read.

Let's leave aside the fact that the best feature—interviews with Boston hotel concierges—is unrelated to the North End, and skip straight to the good stuff, in order of reverse heinousness.

First up, the conclusion to an article about buying cheese for a party:



First of all, if you're writing a food article, could you please check brand-name style? It's Ritz crackers (or, according to the Nabisco site, Ritz®).

Side note: the current online Ritz campaign has the most awesome wording on its opening page ever. If it's no longer up, don't worry: I saved a screenshot.

And what's with the punctuation here? That comma after "extraordinary" should really be a colon. And that's without considering whether the intended (upscale) audience for this mag would view buying a selection of imported cheeses as an "extraordinary" action.

Moving on. The next one's pretty long, and needs more space than this narrow layout allows, so please to read it here.

Oh, where to begin? The observation that "American women" (all of them, one imagines) "literally have their bank accounts hanging in their closets"? The writer's unchecked disagreement with the opinion of "any 'fashionista'"?

The line describing Valentino's 45-year career, followed by another noting that he's worked in the fashion industry for at least 48 years?

Or how about the way this writer re-invents "to profess" as a reflexive verb? Genius!

And for those who literally explode when they see misuse of "literally," there's more:



He literally lives in a lifestyle dictated by a fantasy world! And there are no normal people!

Why does it not surprise me that Alisa Kapinos, the writer of this article, is also the magazine's editor in chief?

But all of this pales into comparison with the simple beauty of one of the most egregious basic errors I have ever seen in print.

In a clumsy approximation of an upscale travel article—the type that says things like "we meet and greet beneath flowing waterfalls"—is this jaw-dropper:



What? WHAT? "The bow-shaped boat, what used to be the traditional means of transportation ..."

Copyeditor General's ruling: It's perfectly acceptable for a company that owns multiple restaurants to create a glossy magazine whose central goal is to promote those businesses. But as I've said many times before, you can't overlook the details.

If you're trying to brand yourself as a model of upscale sophistication, you have to hire people who can write and edit.

Or is North End Scene an accurate reflection of the dining experience at Bricco or Umbria: a veneer of style hiding poorly executed dishes?

Churches will have spellcheck

Remember how I said God would be in the details? Not yet, apparently.



Copyeditor General's ruling: Further down the street fron this church is another that has a sign that reads, "Never place a period where God has placed a comma."

Perhaps a more useful aphorism would be "Never place a sign inviting students to church if you don't know how to spell."

September 24 will be a national holiday

It's National Punctuation Day. Please celebrate responsibly, perhaps with a t-shirt:



or a song:

No one will fraternize with clients

I just happened to be browsing a Web communications job posting on the Tufts University careers site when I noticed this gem:



Copyeditor General's ruling: I'm not quite sure what kind of Web Comms office they're running up at Tufts, but they'd better keep their pants on.

Spellcheck will be reserved for those who can spell

I used a calculator for the first time when I was six years old. This was the mid-'70s; pocket calculators were only just becoming affordable. I thought it was the greatest thing ever, and quickly turned it upside down to spell HELLO. Once I realized it was largely useless as a writing tool (what? You're supposed to use it for numbers? Ewww!) I moved on.

But I was still aware of the criticism that calculators would make people intellectually lazy; children would never learn to add (a vital life-skill, apparently).

And then we all got computers, and now not only do we not need to do math, but we also don't need to get up from the couch to meet people or buy groceries.

We can even stand on virtual street corners like crazy old men and rant endlessly about, say, the state of the English language.

Of course, while I love the efficiencies computers bring, I'm now old enough, and have read enough, to understand those '70s concerns. And I point an accusatory finger at spellcheck.

Why? Taylor Mali explains. (Contains mildly offensive language; you have been warned!)



Copyeditor General's ruling: I couldn't have pat it butter myself. And thanks to the lovely Sarah, who sent me the video and so is anointed Deputy of the Week!

Spelling will not be a political issue

I know you've probably seen this a billion times, but I couldn't resist:



Copyeditor General's ruling: I was hoping for bipartisan agreement on the use of dictionaries. Oh well.

The English will respect English

Point: Ken Smith, a lecturer in Criminology at Bucks New University in England (motto: We've Been a University Since 2007), wrote an op-ed piece for the August 7 Times Higher Education in which he argued that rather than repeatedly correcting students' spelling errors, teachers should accept them as variant spellings.

His reasoning? Most commonly misspelled words are of such ancient provenance that there's no reason for modern audiences to follow blind tradition:

We spell the word "February" the way we do only because it is taken from the Latin word februa, the Roman festival of purification. Similarly, the "correct" spelling of the word "Wednesday" comes from the Old English Wodnes daeg, or Woden's day. But why should we still pay homage today to a pagan god or a Roman festival of purification?

Counterpoint: The same magazine published responses to its annual call for egregious errors made in exams. As reported in The Guardian (oh, the irony!), British students wrote that "control of infectious diseases is very important in case an academic breaks out" and that "flirtation makes water safe to drink."

Copyeditor General's ruling: Sure, I can forgive the occasional typo; I can look the other way when I see uncommon words misspelled. Nobody's perfect, after all.

But when someone who is charged with teaching the next crop of professionals tries to argue that it's okay to half-ass the days of the week or the months of the year--because really, it's not as though you see them in writing very often, is it?--well, then we have a problem.

And if the exam examples are any indication, there's a lot of work to be done.

Newspapers won't confuse reggae singers with politicians' wives

Gotta love The Grauniad and their hey-it's-close-enough style of copyediting. From today's article about Barack Obama's family's appearance at the DNC:



Forgive my political ignorance, but did I miss something? I did a thorough search on the Googles, and this was the only Tippa I found.

Copyeditor General's ruling: Maybe that whole PMRC thing was a coverup for something more sinister ...

Update: Seems someone noticed the error; Tippa is out and Tipper is in. Phew!

T shirt companies will not worry me

After much consideration, I decided that the one thing missing from this blog was merchandise: some way for the Copyeditor General's legions of supporters to demonstrate their love of good grammar. So I started checking out online custom merchmongers to see what was available.

But I only got as far as Spreadshirt. And then I had to stop. Because I was reminded of what's really important.



Um, what? Eisenhower was many things, but fashion designer was not one of his best-known traits. And while there is at least one example of a kid-size campaign shirt, I highly doubt that Ike's win over Adlai Stevenson in 1952 (not '53, Spreadshirt fact-checkers!) came down to little Billy's decision to wear it to the fishin' hole.

Okay, slight distraction. Back to the merch search. What, exactly, is Spreadshirt? Let's check their "About Us" page:

"Spreadshirt makes it possible for private and commercial internet site operators to market their homepages quickly, simply, and independently. Internet site operators can create an online shop with individually created products and connect it with their homepage within minutes."

Internet site operators? When was this written, 1996? And why are we only marketing the homepage? What are all the other pages on my site, electronic chopped liver?

"To operate a Spreadshirt shop, you just need Internet access, your own designs or logo, and to market your shop online."

Don't you love how easy it all sounds? Yep, just log on and use your in-depth knowledge of online marketing! Weren't we all born with that?

Okay, pop quiz: when you think about successful internet businesses, what names come to mind? Google, eBay, DoubleClick? Nay, I say thee! Nay!

"Spreadshirt is one of the most successful internet companies of the past few years."

Two hundred and fifty employees, they have! Look out, Yahoo!

From their mission statement:

"We want to build the best possible online create-buy-experience for everyone from Homer Simpson to Salvador Dalí."

Well, good luck with that. I hate to break it to you, Spreadshirt, but one is a cartoon character and the other left us in 1989. Neither will be ordering from you in the foreseeable future.

"We want to be a fun and inspiring place to work, where integrity, delivery, and innovation reigns."

Which one? If they all reign, they need a plural verb, dears.

"There is no limit to what your imigination can do."

True: there is no limit to what we can imigine.

Copyeditor General's ruling: I have nothing against Germans. Seriously, I don't: I studied the language for five years. I love their Riesling, their Stollen and the fact that The Hoff has somewhere else to go.

But the same goes for them as for the Japanese, Peruvian-Canadians, Texans and Steven Seagal: when your website is the face of your business, you need to make sure your content is flawless. If you're wrong about easily verifiable facts, and you don't check spelling, how well will you do with my order?

Olympians will try to win. Period.

I can't watch the Olympics. I just can't. Sure, I love the running around and the jumping and the splashing. But whenever the announcers start to discuss the essential aim of the participants' actions, I have to turn away. Because eventually they'll use That Verb.

To medal.

I know, I know; it's largely accepted now. It has weasled its way into speech and hooked itself into that particularly creative and forgiving (read: lazy) area of communications we call sports journalism, and now we see it everywhere:

One could clearly make a case for the verb's legitimacy. There's even a linguistic term that describes this kind of thing: anthimeria, or the use of one type of word as if it were another (e.g. a noun used as a verb). Shakespeare and Milton did it all the time.

I should make clear that it's not the practice of word-use substitution that bugs me: it's purely, simply, exquisitely That Verb. It's unnecessary. It's vapid. Again, it's lazy.

And yes, it takes longer to say "he'd like to finish within the top three" or "she hopes to win either gold, silver or bronze" or "he expects to be one of the guys with the flowers and the crying and the national anthem and stuff."

I wonder, though, whether there's a more culturally telling reason for the use and acceptance of this particular word choice: it makes the goal of the action the verb. It turns the symbol of achievement into the entire experience; it makes the destination the journey. It's no longer about participation: it's about winning, period.

And don't even get me started on the use of "winningest."

Copyeditor General's ruling: If this is an acceptable way of referring to aspirations and aquisitions, why limit it to sport? Why not use it in other circumstances?

I haven't had lunch yet, but I expect to sandwich soon.

Our offer was accepted, so it looks like we'll house by the end of the month.

She went into premature labor and surprised everyone by babying this morning.

Both McCain and Obama are hoping to president in November.

Okay, your turn: hit me with your best/worst example of anthimeria!

Eels will not be party animals

Last week we went to the New England Aquarium, whose main attraction is the four-story tropical ocean tank, in which swim turtles, sharks, sting rays and all manner of brightly colored fish.

And also this:



Handsome fella, no? He's a moray, and there are two, or maybe three, in the tank. I'm not quite sure of the exact number because we never saw them together; they seemed to be solitary creatures.

Which is why I was surprised to find this:



and this:



and this:



and this:



All of which lead me to believe that the morays we saw were just spending a little alone time before getting together for a rousing game of bridge.

Copyeditor General's ruling: Another case of those darned confusing homophones, which we've covered here before. My instinct is to blame the blessing/curse of the Internets, where anyone can post anything without going through an editorial gatekeeper.

But not this time. All the above came from books. Actual, real, printed (and allegedly edited and proofread) books. You can see a few dozen more examples here. Shocking!

The word for the rules and social customs of a culture, while pronounced with two syllables, is spelled mores. But:

If you see a big eel
And its face makes you squeal
That's a moray.

(Sorry.)