English Is A Crazy Language

English is the most widely spoken language in the history of our planet, used in some way by at least one out of every seven human beings around the globe. Half of the world's books are written in English, the majority of international telephone calls are made in English, and more than seventy percent of international mail is in English. English has acquired the largest vocabulary of all the world's languages, perhaps as many as two million words, and has generated one of the noblest bodies of literature in the annals of the human race.

Nonetheless, it is now time to face the fact that English is a crazy language.

There is no butter in buttermilk, no egg in eggplant, no grape in grapefruit, neither pine nor apple in pineapple, neither peas nor nuts in peanuts, and no ham in hamburger. To make matters worse, English muffins weren't invented in Englad, French fries in France, or Danish pastries in Denmark. Sweetmeats are candy, while sweetbread, which isn't sweet, is made from meat.

Language is like the air we breathe. It's invisible, inescapable, indispensable, and we take it for granted. But when we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square, public bathrooms have no baths, tomboys are girls, midwives can be men, silverware can be made of plastic and tableclothes of paper.

And why is it that a writer writes, and a stinger stings, but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce, hammers don't ham, and humdingers don't humding? If the plural of tooth is teeth, shouldn't the plural of booth be beeth? One goose, two geese--so one moose, two meese? One index, two indices--one Kleenex, two Kleenices?

Doesn't it seem just a little loopy that we can make amends but never just one amend; that we can never pull a shenanigan, be in a doldrum, get a jitter or a heebie-jeebie; and that sifting through the wreckage of a disaster, we can never find just one smithereen? If you have a bunch of odds and ends and you get rid of all but one, what do you call it? If the teacher taught, why isn't it true that the preacher praught? If a horse-hair mat is made from the hair of horses and a camel's-hair coat from the hair of camels, from what is a mohair coat made? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?

Sometimes you have to believe that all English speakers should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane. In what other language do people drive in a parkway and park in a driveway? Recite at a play and play at a recital? Ship by truck and send cargo by ship? Have noses that run and feet that smell? In what other language do privates eat in the general mess and generals eat in the private mess?

Did you ever notice that we talk about certain things only when they are absent? Have you ever seen a horseful carriage or a strapful gown, met a sung hero or experienced requited love? Have you ever run into someone who was combobulated, gruntled, ruly peccable?

Still, you have to marvel at the unique lunacy of the English language, in which your house can simultaneously burn up and burn down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out, and in which your alarm clock goes off by going on.

English was invented by people, not computers, and it relfects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn't really a race at all). That is why, when stars are out they are visible, but when the lights are out they are invisible. And why, when I wind up my watch I start it, but when I wind up this essay I end it.

Condensed from Crazy English by Richard Lederer.