You folks that think it is easy to find something fresh to quarrel with every week ought to run this column for a couple of years. I druther wash dishes. What am I to find fault with this Sunday, for instance? Vittles? Mine don’t quarrel with me so why should I quarrel with them? Politics? Praised be Allah, I don’t know any. Books? Never read ‘em. Our rulers? They are quarrel proof, and it’s of no use. Pegging peas at a hippopotatumus doesn’t hurt him a bit. Well, there’s the dictionary. Let’s have a go at that. The move toward sensible spelling is a joy. We shall all spell like the Philistine in ten years. But I find in a certain dictionary that it is now the proper thing to pronounce tonsilitis and peritonitis and other Latin words we have adopted to name diseases with as they are pronounced in Lunnon slop shops and Manhattan boarding houses and by aldermen. Remember, this is a Latin word, and why should you Anglicise your Greek and Latin any more than would your French? When you say noblesse oblige you obleezh, at least, if you don’t folks will snicker and hint that it would be as well for you to stick to your own tongue. Then you should give the Yankee or Birmingham I to a Latin letter than means E? You just plain shouldn’t.
Caz Dolowicz of Sands Street has been climbing the mount since coming forth unto Brooklyn in 1923. A retired MTA tower operator, he lives in Bay Ridge with a cat named Catullus.
Rejected photo from the series “Old And New Weeksville: The Black Man Is Boss” by Amber Tides, courtesy of the artist.