Return to Humdinger Literary E-zine... Return Home...   Prohibition Makes It Hard to Speak Easy (in English 101) By Brian Quass   No doubt some of you are wondering why I have prohibited you from either saying or writing a certain three-letter definite article in this semester's English class (you know, one that starts with “t” and ends with “e”?).   Peter, take your foot off of th—THAT desktop, young man! (Whew! I almost said that three-letter word myself!)   There’s a logical explanation. You see—   Come in, come in. What's your name? Sally? Well, you're not on my roll, I'm afraid. No, that's fine: just sit down in— in THIS chair, and we'll worry about it later. (Remind me to kill "a certain" registrar after class, okay, gang? He’s always overbooking me!)   In particular, you may be wondering why you can still use pronouns such as "this" and "that" while scrupulously avoiding this seemingly related three-letter word of which we speak— or of which, in fact, we are going to try to be completely silent until further notice.   Uh-uh! Peter, please deposit that gum in th— Ahem! in one of our several conveniently located trash cans that you'll find to either your left or your right.   Now, where was I?   Oh, yes: This particular three-letter direct article has been banned because it has disturbing connotations, particularly in today’s censorious climate of political correctness. True, its connotations are disturbing in an extremely subtle, almost rarified way, but then we are (I trust) extremely subtle people, so it’s our bounden duty to be revolted by even a marginal flirtation with boorishness.   If I’m making you guys sleepy, feel free to stretch out on— on— on floor! There, see, you almost made me say it again. Now behave!   Where was I? Oh, yes:   Every time we place that connotatively rigid word in front of a noun, we are tacitly suggesting that OUR object, OUR noun (whether it be something as tangible as a fish or as wispy as a dream) has some sort of pinpointable Cartesian existence and that somehow (amongst a vast panoply of likely cognates in a real or imaginary world) it merits our individual consideration in and of itself, without reference to a rich world of associations to which it might otherwise give rise.   In other words—   Oh, wait a minute: Sally Smith, right? I forgot all about it. I have you listed right here in— in— in THIS particular notebook. (Still, a certain registrar has really filled this class to— to— well, he’s filled this class to brim, is what he’s done, straight to brim!)   Anyway...   There is only one noun (or class of nouns) whose real-world referent might indeed be worthy of this connotative exclusivity implied by our direct article, to wit: God, or an Unmoved Mover, so to speak. For when we contemplate such perfection (at least in our western monotheistic tradition) we are indeed thinking of one and only entity. If we worship god X, for instance, we would consider it blasphemous to speak merely of a god X, for we thereby endow rival deities with a philosophical grounds, however slight, for existence.   Indeed, a definite article must introduce such religious nouns if we are to speak accurately of what theologians might refer to as “godhead.”   Fortunately, this class seems to be chockfull of reprobates, so I don't expect too many anchorites are going to object to my grammatical prohibition on religious grounds.   I know, it's 12:00, Peter. (Peter keeps looking up at one of several nearby clocks, so he must be getting antsy.)   Of course, you could argue: How can one distinguish between persons and things without using you-know-which word?   Well, first of all, Charlie Chan never pronounced a direct (or for that matter an indirect) article in his life, yet his conversation, though certainly quaint, was never unintelligible: indeed, it was witty and urbane, more often than not.   But let’s look at this from a philosophical point of view:   This may sound like splitting hairs (especially to you freshmen lot who haven’t yet attended your obligatory Philosophy 101 class with old man Smithers) but there is a real difference between "pointing something out" (with a relative pronoun) and "distinguishing" it (with a definite article). When I say, for instance, that THAT clock (one of several that Paul’s been staring at for at least a half-hour now) is reading 12:00, a full connotation of my statement, if laboriously expressed, would go something like this:   Connotation 1:   That clock over there is reading 12:00, which is not to say that other clocks are not reading different times, nor to suggest that this clock has a monopoly on time-telling accuracy. Indeed, I have merely consulted this particular clock out of convenience: any subsequent presumption of accuracy is therefore a function of our intellect and not of sentence structure.   Peter’s over there like: “Will this be on test?” No, Peter, this will not be “on test,” okay? Man!   Now then, suppose I truly "distinguish" our clock by introducing it (in writing or in speech) with a direct article (that three-letter one, say, that starts with “t” and ends with “e”). Our connotation becomes:   Connotation 2:   T** clock (in other words, this very clock, not some supposititious cognate) is authoritatively reading 12:00, therefore a consultation (even via imagination) of any extraneous timepiece is superfluous. Hence, our thoughts must now logically turn to scheduling considerations that take our noon-hour determination as a "given.”   See? By introducing our noun with a direct article, we’ve not just consulted ANY clock: we’ve consulted a Platonic “clock in itself,” or a sort of Jungian archetype of a “clock,” which, by definition, must be accurate (or at least must be considered so if we are to be logically consistent, since accuracy is one of many qualities that would seem to appertain to a paradigmatic timepiece).   Right, there goes th— th— there goes th— Well, there goes bell, okay? There goes bell!   Off you go, then. (Somebody might want to wake Peter on their way out.)   Oh, yeah, read pages 1 to 100 of “Tess of d’Urbervilles.” This is still an English class, after all, even if I did wax a little philosophical today regarding that unnamable direct article of ours.   Sally, do you have your computer-printed class schedule with you? I'm going to go ahead and add you to our rolls.   What? Your friend Kim there needs to be added, too? Well, you've got to speak up, Kim. You know what they say (let’s see, I’d better be careful how I put this...): a squeaky wheel gets grease!   (Ooh, wait till I see that registrar of ours. This overcrowding business is— is— well, it’s pits, is what it is: it’s just plain pits!)     © Copyright, Brian Quass   Click here to read Brian's Brief Bio.    Click the link above to read what will amuse, frighten, amaze and delight you.   It’s Free, offers inspiration and advice others charge money to deliver, provides resources and links and reminds you that you’re a Writer. 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