Grammar, pronunciation, and enunciation are like the trifecta of linguistics and phonetics and if anybody is going to make a mess of it, leave it to Americans. When it comes to English we’re sloppy, careless, and content with the fact there are no consequences for mangling our own language.
November 15 signals the start of firearms deer season in Michigan. Every hunter buys a license, buys a rifle, buys ammunition, and proceeds to sell his grammatical soul to deerspeak for that period of time. If you are within earshot of any two people dressed in plaid shirts and orange hats you will inescapably hear one say to the other about his day in the woods “…And then I seen ‘em. And they was lookin’ and lookin’.” And if you wonder, “What’s wrong with that?”, you’re obviously a deer hunter. The remarkable thing is that this exchange is always comprised of that precise wording. It’s like a pledge of allegiance taken at the time of licensure — ‘…and then I seen ‘em’ — or a secret handshake — ‘…and they was lookin’ and lookin.’ And it transcends genders, socioeconomic groups, and all levels of intelligence. If William F. Buckley were alive and a deer hunter, for two weeks in Michigan he would succumb and say,
“…And then I seen em. And they was lookin’ and lookin’.” Mercifully for most afflicted — and all the rest of us — this impermanent condition reverses itself on December 1.
I’m pretty sure that anymore to get a job in television news you need a college degree in communication, broadcast journalism, or broadcast news. And I’m also pretty sure a degree of that kind requires a fair amount of English. And yet from local news stations all the way to national network news, seemingly no one can properly pronounce February. It’s not Feb-yoo-airy or Feb-er-airy. It’s Feb-roo-airy. And it doesn’t help that some spineless dictionaries now deem the pejorative Feb-yoo-airy an acceptable pronunciation using the rationale, “if you can’t beat em’, join em.’” Why don’t we just jerk out that second “r” instead or say that the second “r” is actually silent? To get a degree that allows you to speak on-air in front of thousands of people there ought to be an oral twelve-question final exam requiring a score of 100 percent. I know eleven out of twelve ordinarily isn’t bad. That’s 92% and would get you an “A” on almost any exam. But, tough! Say all twelve properly or you don’t graduate. And if somehow someone sneaks through, the onus is on human resources to retest that job applicant. Can’t say all twelve? Next! It’s not Feb-yoo-airy! Like fingernails on a blackboard.
If you slur your words, run words together, or routinely invoke relaxed pronunciation you may find a promising career as an on-air weather forecaster. In fact meteorologist actually means mumbler. If you can’t enunciate the word meteorologist, you are well on your way to being one. Again, it seems to me that you have to be a graduate from an accredited university and, as part of the curriculum, been required to have above average public speaking skills. So, at what point do the wheels fall off? Because they do. What should be information clearly articulated and easily understood ends up essentially unintelligible. Case in point: “Looking at the six-uh-ten-day forecast, purr-ee normal. Tem-uh-churz will problee be in the high thur-eez tuh low for-eez from Cal-ak to
Buh-doz-ghee with a buh-den-shul for skah-urd shars on Sah-ur-day.” Which in English means, “Looking at the six-to-ten-day forecast, pretty normal. Temperatures will probably be in the high thirties to low forties from Cadillac to Petoskey with a potential for scattered showers on Saturday.” Perfect. Like hair on soap.
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