I can’t surf the interweb or visit Bookface without seeing the term “Grammar Nazi” thrown around like we all forgot what the hell a Nazi was. Putting aside the fact that we’re comparing people who appreciate proper grammar to a genocidal group of monsters, it still seems to be a big issue nowadays. I’ll admit I like to see some good grammar but it doesn’t ruin my day to see someone use your, you’re, and/or yore in the wrong context. Not like my sister. She has an English degree from the greatest university in the country (Go Blue!) and a poorly placed there, they’re or their is like kryptonite to that woman.
And rightly so I guess…what with the English degree and all. I’m actually surprised that what I’ve read on Facebook hasn’t put her into some Shutter-Island style insane asylum.
Like I said, it even bothers me a little and I like to pride myself on my proper grammar and the use of a word’s proper context. In most cases. As an outdoorsman there is an instance in which the appropriate rules of English and grammar can (MUST) be ignored. Of course I’m talking about the word fishing. Or, in proper outdoorsman grammar, fishin’. The full -ing makes all of the difference.
You may be sitting in your recliner with your pinkie finger in the air as you swish the brandy in your crystal snifter saying, “How gauche of this Neanderthal to drop the “g” in the word fishing. How gauche indeed!” While I will agree that I am both a bit gauche and a bit of a Neanderthal, please hear me out. While there is only one letter’s worth of difference in the words themselves, there is a world of difference in the men and women who use them. Here’s a quick guide to illustrate the major disparities: Men and women who use fishing can tell you the best place to get gluten-free soy crepes in SoHo. Men and women who use fishin’ can tell you the difference between each type of beef jerky and will not eat a Slim Jim© without throwing out a pretty good Randy “Mach Man” Savage impersonation. R.I.P. Randy, you were taken too soon. Men and women who use fishing know every store in San Francisco that sells records on vinyl. Men and women who use fishin’ know that it isn’t country music if the guy isn’t wearing a cowboy hat. It just isn’t!! I’m looking at you Florida Georgia Line!
Men and women who use fishing know the quickest and most efficient route to every modern art museum in the region.
Men and women who use fishin’ know the directions and grid coordinates to every boat launch in the state and can tell you whether or not you’ll get your feet wet launching your boat.
Men and women who use fishing can identify the current season’s Broadway shows and know their dates.
Men and women who use fishin’ can recite, from memory, the last six Bassmaster Classic champions and the patterns they used to win.
Men and women who use fishing strive to own a Toyota Prius or Nissan Leaf.
Men and women who use fishin’ have more power than those cars in their trolling motors, which are also electric. (Yay, environment!)
Men and women who use fishing know when the newest independent movie is on Hulu.
Men and women who use fishin’ don’t even know what’s on T.V. before 10:00 PM in the summer because that’s usually the time they’re taking the boat out of the water.
And finally… Men and women who use fishing generally don’t. Men and women who use fishin’ absolutely do.
Yup, the “g” makes all of the difference but as much of a difference as there is between the two, there is one outdoorsman grammatical error out there that is exponentially worse.
I experienced it a few years ago when I met one of my wife’s friends. She’s the type who thinks people that catch and clean their own fish are all rednecks while she eats chemically fed, genetically-modified Tilapia from Suriname that have so much mercury in them they can show you how hot your oven is.
“Hi!” She said. “You must be Bryan. I heard you are a big fisher.”
She dropped everything. The I. The N. The G. There is nothing I hate more than being called a fisher. It mocks me to my soft, Slim Jim© core. As the vein in my neck throbbed, I started to explain the difference between an angling aficionado and the large, carnivorous mammal indigenous to the northern United States and Canada. That’s when I saw the venti cup of soy caramel macchiato and the Coach purse and let it go. Crazy lady didn’t even know that I do a bit of fishin’.
Bryan West is a retired Army soldier who got too old to chase terrorizers. Now he spends all of his time making fish feel better about themselves by chasing them all over the country but never quite catching them. Read more from Bryan at www.Bryan-West.com