WHAT'S YOUR FUNCTION?

Here it is--the lesson on who and whom. Why it doesn't work with whoever and whomever, I don't know. But for a 100 % of the time grammar constant to work, well, it's unheard of. Except for this.

It involves substituting he for who and him for whom. It involves rewording main meaning and dividing the sentence in two sometimes. Or,for the grammarians, breaking down the main from the subordinate clause.

On to the examples. Who/m called last night? HE called last night. WHO

Who/m would have ever voted for Blagojevitch? He or Would He have ever voted for Blagojevitch? WHO

The man who/m was in the police car was not a suspect. The man was not a suspect. HE was in the police car. WHO

Now it gets a little tricky. Who/whom is it? It is HE. WHO Don't forget the telephone etiquette way.

Johnny, who/whom, we hold in high regard, paid the man's mortgage out of his own pocket. Johnny paid the man's mortgage out of his own pocket. We hold HIM in high regard. WHOM

Who/whom in his right mind would want to attend that dance recital? In his right mind would HE want to attend that dance recital?

You must use every word in the sentence, you must nor distort the meaning. For instance, Jane called who/whom? Jane called HIM. WHOM. Not He called Jane. WHO, because that was not the intended meaning.

Hey, I hope it helps. I know it works. All the time. And you don't have to keep nominative and objective cases in your mind. You don't have to parse or diagram. Just substitute. Or guess---that also works. Half the time.

THE MENDOZA LINE

This is Dayna Mendoza. She has nothing to do with the Mendoza Line which is a batting average of .200. When a hitter falls into the .100's, he's really in trouble. This Medoza is Miss Universe 2008. I don't know where she's from. Probably Brazil. They all seem to be from there. I was in Brazil once for 10 days. I didn't see any Miss Uni candidates.

But you know what? This entry is about a little grammar lesson and has nothing to with Dayna or baseball. But had I started it on the up and up, just think how you would have passed up this blog.

It's about bad and badly and the preferred usage. It's so simple to distinguish. And after this lesson, you will notice it everywhere. Maybe it will cause you to grit your teeth like me when I hear, "I feel so badly about what happened."

No they don't; they feel bad. "I feel so bad about what happened." You see quite simply feel can be an action verb which would take an adverb (bad-ly), but in that case, someone who has trouble feeling. That is, nerve endings in their fingertips wouldn't allow them to feel. On the other hand (no pun), if you feel bad, you're talking about your feelings, not how you feel.

So it's always, 100% of the time "I feel bad." Unless you have that feely/touchy problem. Don't let me catch you saying it the wrong way. Plus, feel free to pass this little lesson on. Tomorrow I explain who and whom. It's a little tougher, but never again will you have to wonder which to use. But if you still do after the next lesson, hey, don't feel badly. UGGGGGHHH.

EINSTEINS

It doesn't take one to know that you don't name a kid Adolf Hitler Campbell. Or to try and sell a senate seat when you know you're being taped. Or to think that burning Christmas lights leads to global warming. All 3 were in the news last week proving once again that mankind is in entropy.

It's bad enough that insurance and finance companies get government bailouts, but American automakers GM and Chrysler are sticking their paws out, too. At least Ford,who moved 9 million jobs overseas because they couldn't make money here is soluble. The odd thing is so is Toyota who moved a bunch of their plants to the US. I don't remember textiles, railroads, or oil companies getting government help when they were folding their tents.

And Caroline Kennedy wants H Clinton's senate seat. Why not? She has as much experience as Hillary when Mrs. Clinton is telling the country she would be ready on Day 1 when Barry O would not be. Because he has no experience. So, let me see if I have this right, because remember, I'm not an Einstein. Blagojevitch wants to sell Barry's senate seat. Caroline wants to fill Hillary's seat. Barry O wants change. Blago wants a chunk of change. Caroline wants what Caroline wants, and she wants that senate seat now. Well, it's all a little laughable.

But you won't read it anywhere else because the media's too concerned about an Iraqi or Egyptian idiot who gave the old soft shoe(s) to President Bush. And as well as he handled it, "a size 10, I think it was," the incident seemed to please rather than incite most Americans.

I'm telling you it's a mad, mad, mad, mad world. A world that I'm afraid would stump even Albert.

TOO MANY INDICATORS

One more reminder. The old carnival shell game. Where's the pea? Maybe this picture isn't truly representative of that, but after this weekend, it's another tell tale sign.

I attended the Draft Position Bowl at The Ed in St. Louis where the two NFL teams playing had a combined 4-24 record. The Rams lost to win the sweepstakes.

During one of the many, many ads on the big screen, they played the old game of finding, in this case, the football hidden under three helmets and moved at high speed. Of course, I didn't get it right because my old eyes or old noggin couldn't follow. I offered a stab, was wrong, looked to our son who smiled as the ball was under number 2, the one he guessed.

This is the same son who asked me or rather announced after I had fallen on the basepath between second and third base during an intense wiffle ball game this Summer, "I thought you had broken a hip."

Saturday, as I volunteered to drive us to his daughter's basketball game at Rend Lake College where a Super Shoot Out was going on for grade school basketball he asked, "Are you still ok driving at night?"

I don't know which was worse. Our son's dry sense (I hope) of humor or my losing faculties that won't allow me to follow the old shell game anymore. I never get it right, except for an occasional lucky guess.

At least I still remember the words of the national anthem. It is " the rockets' red glare" and not blare, isn't it?

VOTE QUIMBY



"He'd vote for you."



There. That's reason enough.

Talk about populist. But his slogan's as good as most, and probably a whole lot more apt.

WHO'S TO BLAME?

For the fall, for the demise, for the break up of The Beatles?

And why would that come to mind?

Well, for one thing who could figure out my mind? But what got me thinking down that path was "Simply Having a Wonderful Christmas Time."

What a great song. As were so many by The Beatles. Some of us in our youth, in our naivete, knew back then that the songs our parents didn't particularly care for (maybe it was the decibel levels we crashed when listening) were great. And, of course, they're still very popular today.

Proof? Name as many pop songs as possible from the 60's, 70's, 80's, 90's, and 00's along the artists. The ones from the 60's will be known by more people than any three other decades combined. It's a fact. Ok, I don't know that.

But back to my original question--what broke 'em up? Some say success, some Yoko, some Ravi, some the Maharish Yahish Yogi. My guess is drugs. I know I never cared for most of the later Beatles' songs. From '62-'66 was the wealth of talent IMHO (in my humble opinion).

So now I'm angry. What did the world get robbed of because of drugs? Well, a whole lot more than The Beatles, but it's a sad note to a legacy. A legacy of one group and one world.

NOT A TEEPEE, NOT A WIGWAM

That's what I told the shrink I went to. I'm tired of having these dreams. The ones where I wake up and I've dreamed I was a teepee. Then the next night I dream I'm a wigwam. It goes back and forth, I told him.

His reply, "Don't worry; you're not a teepee or a wigwam. You're just two tents."

I don't know why, but our son loves that joke. But, hey maybe it helps him with his tension or is it tent-shun?

Stress is serious. I'm not sure the ad for stress relief would work very well. But we do all need that relief. Some find it in physical activity, some in sudoku or crosswords,(use a space and supply pun here), some in a good book. Many lean on the Lord for stress reduction. Without a doubt, that's the best, the only remedy that really works. That really lasts.

But I would imagine the most spiritual who know that they have no control anyway, continue to forget on occasion and try to rely on themselves. I know I do. Then I ask God to bless my plans. Arrogant? Foolish? Repetitious? The answer is not two tents or too tense, but three. And I do it repeatedly.

I'm glad I serve a merciful, forgiving God.

OUTGROW PEANUT BUTTER? NEVER

Our son hates nuts. Of any kind. He's passed his extreme distaste for them on to his children. At least 3 of them. Or I should say 2. His 5 year old, as I reported in a recent entry, likes anything, so I suppose he likes peanut butter at least. And his 9 day-old doesn't have too many discretionary taste buds right now.

Where did our son get this hatred of all things nutty? I don't know. It's not from me. I love nuts. Especially peanut butter.

This Summer when I ate peanut butter ice cream, it really hurt him as he was seated next to me at an outdoor restaurant in California. I knew he held antipathy for peanuts, but I didn't know it hurt him to smell it on another's ice cream. Or I certainly would have selected another flavor.

One of my favorite places to eat a peanut butter and jelly sandwich is on the golf course after nine holes. We used to eat the little peanut butter crackers until I examined the calories and sugar in the packages. By purchasing low sugar jelly and non-salted, low fat peanut butter on double fiber grain bread, I save caloric intake and have a fuller belly. Plus, I get energized for the back nine.

Even when we tee off early in the Summer, I may eat my sammy at 9:00, or whenever I'm done with 9 holes. One of my golf buddies used to tell me I was only good for 7 holes anyway, so maybe I needed the nourishment that only peanut butter could provide.

However, I may have to change to a ham and cheese when I'm paired with our son.