The truth about mist aches

SOMEONE who signs himself "Monohull in Maine" left a heartening comment saying how much he enjoys this column. "In particular, the lack of advertising, the good clear writing, and the high standard of grammar and spelling."

Well, "Monohull," I am greatly flattered, but I have to admit that it's not all my work. I've got a spelling checker on my computer and  I use it on the advice of Jerrold H. Zar, who wrote the original version of this poem in 1992:

Eye halve a spelling chequer

It came with my pea sea.
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.

Eye strike a key and type a whirred

And weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write—
It shows me strait a weigh.

As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee for two long
And eye can put the error rite­;
It’s rarely ever wrong.

Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no.
It’s letter perfect in its weigh—
My checker tolled me sew.

Today's Thought

I believe that every English poet should read the English classics, master the rules of grammar before he attempts to bend or break them, travel abroad, experience the horror of sordid passion and—if he is lucky enough—know the love of an honest woman.
— Robert Graves, Lecture at Oxford.

Tailpiece

"John, what's my mother going to say when I tell her you kissed me twice?"
"But I haven't kissed you twice. I only kissed you once."
"Yeah, but . . . you're not going yet, are you?"

(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)