The proper uses of I and me are among the first grammatical rules that schoolchildren are taught. Yet even as adults, writers and speakers sometimes get it wrong.

The distinction is not that difficult to keep straight. Grammarians call I the nominative case and me the objective case. So use I when you’re the actor: “I’m going to the office.” And me when you’re the object of the action: “Please give the package to me.”

True, a few situations arise where following the rules might create a stilted or pretentious result. “It’s me” sounds more natural on the phone, for example, even if it’s technically incorrect. (Officially, “It’s I” abbreviates the phrase, “It is I who is speaking.”)

Similarly, “How do you know it was I who signed it?” is a trifle awkward. But problems like this can usually be solved via adroit rephrasing. One possible option: “How do you know I was the person who signed it?”

This column brings to mind two movies that were popular when I was growing up. The title of The Egg and I was admirably correct. But Me and the Colonel was ungrammatical. Of course, the filmmakers knew what they were doing.

[Ed Note: For more than three decades, Don Hauptman was an award-winning independent direct-response copywriter and creative consultant. He is author of The Versatile Freelancer, an e-book that shows writers and other creative professionals how to diversify their careers into speaking, consulting, training, and critiquing.]

Many people share my passion, judging by the popularity of Jay Leno’s “Headlines” segments, bloopers and outtakes on TV, and lists of errors, real or alleged, that circulate online. (”Dog for sale, eats anything, fond of children.”)

Even more appealing is when the boner is followed by a witty or snarky retort, in the style of The New Yorker.

I’m working on a book — a compilation of these gems. Here are a few samples:

• Correction: “Some jesters in a British competition described in a page-one article last Monday ride on unicycles. The article incorrectly said they ride on unicorns.”

The unicorns’ union is filing a protest about those lost jobs.

• Photo caption: “Karen Duplessis and her son, Patrick, are Patrick Henry’s ancestors.”

And they look so young, too.

• Headline: “Though Frail, Castro Denies He’s Dead”

But why should we believe him?

• Newscaster: “We’ll be talking to one of the producers of Law and Order SUV — excuse me, SVU.”

The cops are really cracking down on those gas guzzlers.

• Newspaper article: “An island surrounded by water, Manhattan has long been without a beach, prompting locals to flee by bridges and tunnels during the dog days.”

In an era of declining literacy, perhaps the laughter and ridicule that bloopers provoke are a hopeful sign that we still care about language. Keep your eyes and ears open, and you’ll start spotting them, too.

[Ed Note: For more than three decades, Don Hauptman was an award-winning independent direct-response copywriter and creative consultant. He is author of The Versatile Freelancer, an e-book that shows writers and other creative professionals how to diversify their careers into speaking, consulting, training, and critiquing.]

“Also on the front page, just below the Citizen’s masthead, the paper’s publishers added the phrase ‘Belmont’s Only Prize-Winning Newspaper,’ a thinly veiled dig at their hometown competitor, The Belmont Herald.”

The logo at the top of a newspaper’s front page is not a masthead. The masthead, usually found in the editorial section, is a list of the publication’s staff members, along with policy statements, contact information, and the like.

So what’s the right name for the front-page logo? It’s a nameplate. Other terms journalists use are banner and flag.

Several dictionaries I consulted don’t bother with this distinction. They contend that the word masthead means both the logo and the informational listing. But using the same term for both is ambiguous and potentially confusing. Here is still more evidence that many dictionaries have become too permissive. Instead of giving us guidance, they often repeat and perpetuate common misuses.

So please keep this distinction straight. It’s especially important if print newspapers and magazines continue to exist — as we can only hope they do!

[Ed Note: For more than three decades, Don Hauptman was an award-winning independent direct-response copywriter and creative consultant. He is author of The Versatile Freelancer, an e-book that shows writers and other creative professionals how to diversify their careers into speaking, consulting, training, and critiquing.]

• “Anyone who passes even feint praise on anything containing Adam Sandler…”

The writer means faint praise — not very much. A feint is a deceptive or diversionary action.

• “Now, watching a young and inexperienced American president appear to waiver on his commitment….”

This is a common mix-up. To be indecisive is to waver. A waiver is a relinquishment of a right or claim.

• “Unaware of the possibility of evoking Section 1732, I set up a private transfer treaty to move him to an American prison.”

To evoke means to summon or call to mind. The correct word in this context is invoke, to cite as justification.

• “If pot were legal, the beer industry would loose money.”

The distinction should be obvious. But an amazing number of people confuse lose, to mislay, with loose, the antonym of tight.

• “[When I studied foreign languages,] absurdity acted as the impotence for comprehension and eventual memorization.”

Somehow, the desired word impetus, meaning stimulus, morphed into impotence. My guess is that this was the result of an unintended Microsoft Word “auto-correction.” Computers are useful tools but they can also create new problems. There’s no substitute for human intelligence, common sense, and proofreading.

[Ed Note: For more than three decades, Don Hauptman was an award-winning independent direct-response copywriter and creative consultant. He is author of The Versatile Freelancer, an e-book that shows writers and other creative professionals how to diversify their careers into speaking, consulting, training, and critiquing.]

• “It is even possible to legally download textbooks free, thanks to some new sites and services.”
• “This is a chance to constructively harness the idealism of thousands of Americans…”
• “In New York, if a lethal agent is detected, the city plans to immediately distribute drugs to counter the bug.”
• “On several occasions, Israelis have managed to temporarily suppress violence.”

For centuries, language purists insisted that an infinitive must never be split. Then came the reaction: Permissivists denounced the prohibition as a “superstition.”

A few writers on language take a middle position. I’m in this camp. The split-infinitive taboo is a convention of the language, so let’s respect it — unless the result sounds awkward. All the above examples could be rephrased to avoid the splits. On the other hand, rephrasing would be difficult or impossible with this sort of sentence: “Analysts expect the stock price to more than triple next year.”

But clumsy sentences can also be created by splitting the infinitive. I found this example in a concert program: “Sousa marches often seem to not particularly relate to their titles.”

Recently, an eloquent case for nonsplitting was made by a reader (Richard Palumbo) in a letter to The New York Times Book Review: “Split infinitives are like putting an insurmountable obstacle in the way of a speeding train that must stop to clear the tracks before picking up speed again. We lose the thrust and impact when we separate preposition and verb…”

That makes sense to me. So my advice is simple. Follow the rule unless a good reason exists to break it. I sometimes wonder if anything would have been lost if the Star Trek mission had been “to go boldly where no man has gone before.”

[Ed Note: For more than three decades, Don Hauptman was an award-winning independent direct-response copywriter and creative consultant. He is author of The Versatile Freelancer, an e-book published by AWAI that shows writers and other creative professionals how to diversify their careers into speaking, consulting, training, and critiquing.]

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The words meantime and meanwhile are handy transitional devices, but they are sometimes misused.

For all practical purposes, the words are interchangeable. Both mean simultaneously or during a brief intervening time. Both words may be used alone. But always write or say in the meantime, never in the meanwhile. To begin a sentence, use Meanwhile, not Meantime.

The following are correct:

• “I’m waiting for an important e-mail message to arrive. In the meantime, I’m reading the headlines.”

• “The sheriff pursued and captured the two bank robbers. Meanwhile, back at the ranch…”

A final tip: In The Careful Writer, Theodore M. Bernstein advises his readers to be certain that the two events under discussion really are simultaneous or close in time. An example of what to avoid: “The play opened in Chicago a year ago. Meanwhile, the producers are raising money to transfer it to Broadway.”

[Ed Note: For more than three decades, Don Hauptman was an award-winning independent direct-response copywriter and creative consultant. He is author of The Versatile Freelancer, an e-book published by AWAI that shows writers and other creative professionals how to diversify their careers into speaking, consulting, training, and critiquing.]

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We want your feedback! Let us know your thoughts on today’s issue. Email us at: AskETR@ETRFeedback.com

In France, a government-run Academy serves as the official authority. Here in America, no single authority has been appointed to give us definitive answers. We must consider various sources, sometimes conflicting, and make our own decisions.

Language authorities generally fall into one of two schools. The prescriptivists offer explicit guidance. The descriptivists simply record how language is used, without passing judgment.

The second group might be called permissivists. At least some of its members apparently believe that no rules should exist. If enough people use a word incorrectly, it somehow comes to be “right.” Thus, for example, it’s okay for disinterested to mean uninterested, instead of — or in addition to — its primary meaning of impartial. Many dictionaries have capitulated on this point. But by this reasoning, ain’t is acceptable. After all, so many people use it!

If following a rule creates an awkward result, you might need to break it. But another choice often exists. For example, a venerable rule forbids beginning a sentence with however. The alternative: It’s usually possible to respect the rule by substituting but or another word or phrase. Or by relocating however within the sentence.

In general, I advise observing traditional standards, unless a compelling reason exists to disregard them. Here’s why:

1. Customs and conventions aren’t irrelevant. They’re part of civilized society. I call this “The Necktie Principle.” No good reasons exist to wear ties, and one could cite several arguments against them. But a man in the corporate world who abandoned ties would likely come to regret that decision. So it is with language. Even the permissivists don’t spell physician with an F, even though it would be more “logical.”

2. We’re judged by how we use language. In your career and social life, you’re viewed as educated or uneducated, literate or illiterate, on the basis of how well you speak and write. Like it or not, such first impressions help determine your status, advancement, and romantic success.

3. It doesn’t pay to be perceived as wrong, even if you can prove that you’re “right.” If you flout a rule, you may have a case. But it’s impractical to justify your position in conversation or in most written work. For instance, if you use enormity to mean large and your listener advocates its traditional meaning of “a great evil,” it would be a bit awkward to haul out a dictionary containing the permissive definition.

As you might guess, I incline toward the prescriptivist camp. But I recognize that language changes, and that the rules may be bent when necessary. As with many things in life, common sense should prevail.

[Ed Note: For more than three decades, Don Hauptman was an award-winning independent direct-response copywriter and creative consultant. He is author of The Versatile Freelancer, an e-book published by AWAI that shows writers and other creative professionals how to diversify their careers into speaking, consulting, training, and critiquing.]

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We want your feedback! Let us know your thoughts on today’s issue. Email us at: AskETR@ETRFeedback.com

• grammar refers to the rules and structure of language, the way words combine to form sentences. Example of a grammatical error: “He done gone.”
• syntax refers more specifically to the order of words within a sentence. Example of a syntactical error, as might be made by someone learning English as a second language: “I am here for the job to apply.”
• usage refers to the way words and phrases are used. Often, a mistake is called a grammatical error when it’s really an error of usage. Example of a usage error: the widespread misuse of literally when “not literally” is meant.
• style refers to how something is expressed. Two writers might say the same thing in different ways. Neither is incorrect, but one style may be more suitable to the context. For instance, one could write “the murky water” or, as Homer phrased it more poetically, “the wine-dark sea.”
• rhetoric refers to the use of language to achieve a goal, most often to persuade. Today, the word is often used pejoratively to describe bombastic or insincere verbiage, as in “The senator’s speech was mere rhetoric.” But the traditional meaning of the word is valuable and should be preserved.

Some language issues can be characterized as matters of right and wrong. Others are discretionary. Numerous ways of expressing a point exist, but some are likely to be superior.

One lesson I’ve learned as a writer for 35 years is that every early draft can be improved. If the document is important, print it out. You’ll see things on paper that you miss on screen. Edit with a pen or pencil, then plug in your corrections. Repeat as needed. Allowing the document to marinate overnight or for a few days often helps, as does reading it aloud or asking someone for a critique.

[Ed Note: For more than three decades, Don Hauptman was an award-winning independent direct-response copywriter and creative consultant. He is author of The Versatile Freelancer, an e-book published by AWAI that shows writers and other creative professionals how to diversify their careers into speaking, consulting, training, and critiquing.]

With that goal in mind, here’s another roundup of misspellings, misunderstandings, and other misuses — all found via Internet search, but equally frequent in print:

“I just find it as ridiculous as any other hair-brained conspiracy theory.”

Whether hair-brained or hairbrained, it’s wrong. The correct word is harebrained — that is, the brain of a rabbit. It’s true that hare was once spelled hair, but that was 400 years ago. Don’t be harebrained; spell it correctly!

“I do have a photo of his name on the marquis of the theater where he gave his last performance.”

The canopy of a theater is a marquee (mar-KEE). A French nobleman is a marquis (mar-KEE or, in the anglicized pronunciation, MAR-qwis).

“The people who do not have money or marketable skills — the poor, the elderly, the frail, the uneducated — fall between the cracks with no place, no role, and no money to buy what they need.”

This is a commonly garbled metaphor. Something that is forgotten or overlooked falls into or through the cracks, not between them.

“This is unchartered territory for … presidential candidates, given the fact that the whole primary season starts … three days after New Year’s ….”

An organization that lacks a document outlining its principles and functions is unchartered. The word wanted here is uncharted.

“Juliana, I enjoy this new newsletter format so much better than the daily newsletter which I felt obliged to peruse quickly so as to have time to do research.”

The word peruse means to read carefully, and that takes time. It’s often misinterpreted, as in the above example, as meaning the opposite: to read rapidly, to scan to get the gist. Incidentally, it’s considered pretentious to use peruse when read will suffice.

[Ed Note: For more than three decades, Don Hauptman was an award-winning independent direct-response copywriter and creative consultant. He is author of The Versatile Freelancer, an e-book published by AWAI that shows writers and other creative professionals how to diversify their careers into speaking, consulting, training, and critiquing.]

Familiar words of this type include the computer term bit (binary + digit), brunch (breakfast + lunch), smog (smoke + fog), and Spam – the edible kind (spiced + ham).

They’ve also been called telescope words and centaur words. Lewis Carroll called them “portmanteau words.” That reference is now rather obscure, but back in the day, a portmanteau was a traveling bag that opened into two compartments. Thus, as Carroll defined the term in Through the Looking-Glass: “two meanings packed up into one word.” And, by the way, several of Carroll’s own blended-word coinages are still used, most notably chortle (chuckle + snort).

Decades ago, Time magazine and the gossip columnist Walter Winchell were known for devising new blends, some of which survived while others faded away. Among them: cinemactress, frauditor, genethics, guesstimate, and infanticipating.

If you keep your eyes and ears open, you’ll discover that the list of blend words is surprisingly long: advertorial, camcorder, Chunnel, glasphalt, infomercial, Jazzercise, minicam, pixel, and sitcom, for example. Because new things are constantly being created, and they all need names, the roster will surely continue to grow.

Here are a few more, the origins of which may not be immediately apparent:

• guacamole: from the Aztec ahuacamolli – a conflation of ahucatl (avocado) + molli (sauce or paste).
• happenstance: from happen + circumstance.
• Tanzania: from the names of two countries, Tanganyika and Zanzibar, that merged in 1964.
• Velcro: from the French velours (velvet) + croche (hooked). The ubiquitous fastener was invented in Switzerland.

[Ed Note: For more than three decades, Don Hauptman was an award-winning independent direct-response copywriter and creative consultant. He is author of The Versatile Freelancer, an e-book recently published by AWAI that shows writers and other creative professionals how to diversify their careers into speaking, consulting, training, and critiquing.]