We can rack our brains all day and still not figure out why our use of the English language is falling into wrack and ruin nowadays, as illustrated by a chum who repeatedly – and erroneously – says folks’ morals are going to “wreck and ruin.”

That’s not the worst of it either. Last week the approved minutes of a board meeting explained, in effect, how the measure “would effect the town” but no consideration was given as to how the misspelling would affect townspeople’s opinion of the official records and what effect this all would have in the long run.

Do we care any more? Or, is that anymore? Does anyone anyhow give a hoot?

We stick apostrophes where they don’t belong, omit them where they do. We apparently don’t know the difference between “which” and “that” and go so far as to refer to a person as a “that” instead of a “who.”

How many times do we hear a news announcer say: “The men that were charged with poaching,” “The clerk that is a suspect in the embezzlement,” “The boy that won the spelling bee”?

In time, there will be no “Whoville” and the Grinch will sit down to carve the roast beast with a clan of Thats. In time, there may not be any spelling bees because of “drive-thru” signs, “EZ” passes, and “fried chix.” We won’t know the difference between sensual and sensuous, between oral or verbal, between flows and floes, between lie and lay.

Just the other day, the gas station people pronounced in no uncertain terms their lack of liability if damage occurred to the vehicle while under power brushes, soap sprays and dryers. We are not responsible “What So Ever” said the sign at the entrance to the automated car wash, leaving the customer with a definite message to accept Any Thing that transpired.

Next door, a lighted sign touting the newest feature among the drive-through, fast-food-chains said: “Its spicy.” Seems the franchise could have afforded an apostrophe since they’re quick to dispense ketchup and dipping sauce.

Sure, there are those fuss-budgets who go too far, but they are fewer and farther in between.

E. B. White told the story about the fear so many writers have of making a blatant mistake. “One time a newspaper sent us to a morgue to get a story on a woman whose body was being held for identification. A man believed to be her husband was brought in. Somebody pulled the sheet back; the man took one agonizing look, and cried, ‘My God, it’s her!” When we reported this grim incident, the editor diligently changed it to ‘My God, it’s she!'”

One of our readers, who doesn’t go to that degree but admits he has a plethora of pet-peeves due to grammatical mistakes and word misusage, says the thing that annoys him the most of late is the response to a simple “Thank You.”

“No problem,” someone invariably answers.

What happened to “You’re Welcome?” he asks.

For all it’s faults (read its), the English language, we agree, is beautiful when spoken and written well.