Gene Owens

Till death does us part

By Gene Owens

"What I really want to know," said Evelyn Walsh of Guthrie, Okla., "is how the popular saying, '...till death do us part,' is acceptable instead of 'United 'til death.' I know everyone will say the former just sounds better, but isn't this true of all popular ungrammatical sayings?"

There's no question about it, Evelyn: The nuptial pledge to remain faithful "till death do us part" is ungrammatical. The subject is "death" and the verb is "do." Death is singular. Therefore it should take the singular verb, "does" (or, in 16th-century lingo, "doth").

So why don't couples pledging their troth say "till death does us part"?

Blame the Church of England's Book of Common Prayer. The 1559 version, written before the English learned to spell, specifies this language for the bride taking her wedding vows:

"I, [bride's name], take the, [groom's name], to be my wedded husbande, to have and to holde from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness, and in health, to love, cherish and to obey, till death us departe, accordynge to godes holy ordinaunce..." The groom also pledged fidelity "till death us departe."

You will note that the 16th-century phrase was "till death us departe." Somewhere along the way "departe" became "do part," without regard to the rules of English grammar. While today's "depart" means simply "to leave," the French word "departir" also meant "to die."

"Betty Jean Hackberry swears she'll be true to Thurmond Barnswallow till death do them part," said Gopher.

"I'm sure she meant 'till breath does them part,'" said Miss Lulabelle. "She can't stand to get close to Thurmond after he's eaten a pizza with anchovies, which is why she jilts him every weekend in favor of Milford Birdsong."

(Readers may reach Bubba through Gene Owens at 1004 Cobbs Glen Drive, Anderson SC 29621, or through e-mail at WadesDixieco@aol.com)

Raisins are shot, bulls get dozier

By Gene Owens

Richard Sinclair of Perdido Beach, Ala., got a chuckle out of the "chicken coupes" advertised for sale in the Bayou Bullfrog Daily Croak. He read on and discovered other mangled words.

"In addition to chicken coupes were wrattan chairs and, in the pet section, currant shots," he told Bubba. "Under farm machinery you can find a 'bulldozier.'"

Chickens live in coops. Old codgers sit on their front porches in rattan chairs and discuss current events as they watch bulldozers clear the sites for new Wal-Mart stores.

Rattan is an Asian palm that yields the cane strips used in furniture and other goods. If you want a "w," you have to call it "wicker."

Bubba reckons the "currant shots" in the pet section were recent photographs of pets up for adoption, and had nothing to do with raisins. A currant is a dried grape. So is a raisin. "Raisin" is the French word for "grape." "Currants" get their name from the "Anglo-Norman "raisins de Corauntz," meaning "grapes from Corinth." "Current" refers to the flow of a stream or things that are happening even as we speak.

That contraption that uproots trees, pushes over walls and levels the ground is a bulldozer. It has no "i." Bubba's old bull is a dozer; he spends most of the day snoozing under a chinaberry tree. He is even dozier than the cows.

Uncle Hadacol fired currant shots at the Yankee tourists who were raiding his watermelon patch. He figured the ACLU would get him if he used birdshot, so he loaded his shotgun shells with raisins. He got the idea from his grandpappy, who was in the Confederate artillery and fired grapeshot at Yankees back in '64.

(Readers may reach Bubba through Gene Owens at 1004 Cobbs Glen Drive, Anderson SC 29621, or through e-mail at WadesDixiecoh@aol.com)

Don't degenerate to the point of denigrating

By Gene Owens

Nancy Park of Del City, Okla., couldn't figure out whether the reporter or the professor got it wrong when describing a donnybrook between two members of the Swampscum City Council. The Swampscum Daily Ooze put it this way:

"'These kinds of disagreement are not uncommon,' said Webster Hayne, political science professor at the Swampscum Polytechnic Institute and Barber College. 'The reality is that these guys have denigrated down to seventh-grade behavior.'"

Nancy wondered which word the reporter was misspelling: "denigrated" or "degenerated." Either way, Miss Prunella Pincenez, Buck's eighth-grade English teacher, would flunk somebody for improper use of the language, and the ACLU would get somebody for denigrating seventh-graders.

"Denigrate," even if spelled correctly, would be the wrong word. It's based on the Latin "niger" for "black," and means to blacken the reputation of somebody. It may also mean "disparage" or "criticize."

To degenerate is to become worse. Buck is betting that this is what the professor meant, although he may have said "denigrate," thinking it sounded more scholarly.

Buck would also quarrel with "these kinds of disagreement." Only one kind of disagreement appears to be under discussion. Maybe the City Council has many disagreements of this kind, but they're all one kind of disagreement.

"The last slice of that pie is mine," said Gopher.

"We're always having this kind of disagreement," said Floyd. "You've already had two slices. This slice is mine. If you take it I'll denigrate your eye."

Floyd really meant "blacken."

(Readers may reach Bubba through Gene Owens at 1004 Cobbs Glen Drive, Anderson SC 29621, or through e-mail at WadesDixieco@aol.com)