Micah Zarin's Blog

In the modurn eruh of humin communicayshun, we find are selves standing at the epicenter of a seismic langwidgey quake, wer all the rools we wunce held deer are now cracking like the shel of a sad, overboilt egg. And I, a pionear of the new vokabuleeri, stand proudly amongst the rubbel, arms raised, yelling, “Yes, let the wurds brake!” For too long, gramer has oppresed us with its so-called strukture and so-called consistensee, forcing every sylabul to march in line like an ohbeedeeyent alphabettik millishuh. But the trooth is that spelling is a bourjwa intraprise designed to sel more dictionaries and make all of us feel dum whenever we rite a wurd like “definitely” as “definately,” even tho that is objektivly more fonetikally harmonious. Yet the gramer polize insist that we must obey the orthografik overlords, who dictate that knight has a k.

The intire disk-horse surrounding langwidge reform is infected by the delushun that speling must be konsistent in order for intelijents to florish. But konsistensee is overrated; chaos is the birthplace of kreativitee. Consider the beeyootiful confushun created wen someone texts, “Your smart,” and a wild pedant leaps from the bushes screaming about posessivs and kontrakshuns, exposing their deep and painful need for kontrol. We shuld celebrate that konversayshun for its raw emocyon and unabashad semantick thrust rather than scold it for its orthografik disobedience. The message waz recievd. The idea waz transmitted. So why punish a wurd for dressing a bit diferent? We ar all just grafemes trying to survive in an indifferent univers.

Langwidge is not the pristine crystal kastle that akademiks pretend to kontain inside their pontifikashuns. It is more like a mud pie, lovingly mis-shapen by chubby kindergartin hands, crawling with mikrobes of slang and dialectal mutayshun. Wen someone says “libary” insted of “library,” the elitists roll their eyes, but I hear a brave soul deregulayting the lingwistik marketplace. Wen someone types “could of” instead of “could have,” I do not see error, I see philosophik effishensee: why should the brain be burdend by the invisible shackels of gramatikal ghost-sounds? Silent letters are a paranormal problem. They are the spirits of dead alphabettik ancestors rattling their chains inside are syllabols, hoping we never question why they exist. But we must question every letter that thinks it can hide.

And let us not ignor the kapitalist conspirasee behind korrect speling. Ink companyz profit every time a teechur slashes a peece of writting with red fluid, marking every errur like its a moral sin. Diction-arys cost monney and change every few yeers just to invent new “approved” wurds so they kan kontinue their gluttonus feast on our wallets. If speling were free, they would starve. They kannot allow that. They need us to believe that accommodate has two sets of double letters like some grotesk orthografik centipede, even though its only purpose is to make students weep into their spelling-bees.

Thus, the fyoochur relies on are widspred acceptance that speling is a consensual hallucinasheon. We agree that certain squiggles attached to certain mouth-noises have meening, but that agreement is fragil and arbitrareey. One day we may decide that “thought” is spelled “thot” again, and we will be liberated from the shackels of orthografik pretenshun. Some say that without korrect speling, society will kollaps into gibberish. But gibberish is the raw materyul from which genius is forged.