This debate nonsense is killing me

JUNE CASAGRANDE

Three presidential debates. Two-hundred seventy minutes of

ultra-high-pressure discourse between a guy who doesn’t grasp the

value of simple language and a guy for whom simple language is the

only option. A perfect formula for a flub. A grammar column waiting

to happen, right?

I tuned in with excitement to all three debates, on a mission for

you, dear readers. I watched closely. I perked up at every fumbled

sentence. I reached for my notebook on every thought interrupted

midstream. And in those 270 minutes, this sure-fire goldmine netted

me pretty much nada.

Sure, both candidates stumbled. But as I wrote down their words, I

was quite obviously just looking too hard for material. If any of us

were to see transcribed our everyday conversation, especially things

we say over the course of several hours during which we’re under

extreme pressure, we’d see little goofs and mid-sentence changes in

direction and agreement problems and all that stuff. No one speaks as

carefully as he writes because, when we speak, we only have time to

focus on what we say and not how we say it.

So, reluctantly retiring my hopes of milking Flub Fest 2004 for a

great column, I instead point you toward the first paragraph of this

column.

Since I started writing The Business of Language, I’ve received a

number of e-mails from readers upset over the demise of the complete

sentence. A lot of people out there are distressed that no one seems

to care anymore that a real sentence contains a subject and a verb

and usually an object of that verb or some other “predicate.” “Kerry

wore a scowl.” Or, without a predicate, “Bush smirked.” All these

elements are needed to make a sentence complete. “Wore a scowl” is

neither a complete sentence nor a complete thought any more than just

“smirked.”

So, to all those readers who lament the widespread disregard for

the sanctity of the complete sentence, I say this: Bummer.

Every genre of professional writing, especially fiction and essay,

contains examples of incomplete sentences used for effect. It’s

perfectly acceptable. Remember, everything you see in print has the

stamp of approval of not just the writer but of the faceless and

often many people whose jobs are to read and to proofread. So

whenever you see an incomplete sentence in print, you’re seeing a

consensus of professionals.

Of course, these professionals goof, too. I once had a

professional copy editor tell me an imperative such as, “Get out and

vote” is not a complete sentence because it does not contain a

subject. That’s just wrong. In the imperative verb form, that is, an

order, the subject is implied by the verb. In the above example, the

subject is “you.” The speaker is speaking directly to someone -- a

“you” -- but as is the case with many languages including Spanish and

Italian, you drop the subject because it’s already implied.

Back to the debates.

If you’ll allow me to get serious for a moment, there was one word

that stood out most in the course of the debates, at least in my mind

-- a single syllable uttered repeatedly by both candidates that is an

impressive statement to the power and importance of words. That word

is “kill.”

My guess is that never in the history of the nation have

presidential candidates included in their campaign rhetoric vows to

kill anyone. Of course, the people that both candidates vowed to kill

are the masterminds of the Sept. 11 attacks and similarly monstrous

terrorists -- certainly people who deserve to die. But the fact that

the two men vying to lead America now use this word so freely in the

debates just brings home what a very different world we live in than

just a few years ago.

* JUNE CASAGRANDE is a freelance writer. She can be reached at

JuneTCN@aol.com.