Monthly Archives: September 2007


God bless the Electric Company.

In case you weren’t aware, today is National Punctuation Day!

How are we, the “Punctuation Faithful,” supposed to properly observe NPD? Here is a list of suggestions by NPD founder Jeff Rubin:

  • Read a newspaper and circle all the punctuation errors you find (or think you find but aren’t sure) with a red pen.
  • Take a leisurely stroll, playing close attention to store signs with incorrectly punctuated words.
  • Stop in those stores to [politely] correct the owners.
  • If the owners are not there, leave [properly punctuated] notes.
  • Visit a bookstore and purchase a copy of Strunk & White’s The Elements of Style.
  • Congratulate yourself on becoming a better written communicator.
  • Write an error-free letter to a friend.
  • Take a nap. It has been a long day.

I’ve celebrated NDP so far by using six different marks in this post. Oops, it looks like I’m up to seven; I almost forgot the apostrophe. Dang it, eight. Wait… do parentheses count as one or two? I’ll say one. The same goes for brackets thus bringing my total to 10 – no wait, 12 – counting that ellipsis. Sigh. the M-dash makes 13. How will you celebrate? If you’re stumped, you might try the Punctuation Rap (you can listen to the rap by clicking on the link on the right side of the page). But only if you’re desperate. You have been warned.


Here we go _______! Here we go!

I’ve decided Midwestern needs a mascot. Never mind the fact that we don’t have any teams to compete under said mascot’s name and in its image.

It’s shame Wake Forrest already claimed Demon Deacons because that’s an awesome mascot. And Southern already has dibs on Crazy Calvinists.

Here’s my first round of solutions:

  1. The Dippers
  2. The Johns (as in John the Baptist, not toilets or men who hire prostitutes)
  3. The Spires (after the distictive spire on campus.)
  4. The Saints
  5. The Boll Weevils

Hmmph. I actually think I like The Spires.


Take an hour and watch this:

You’ll be glad you did.

Take a Letter

Earlier this week I went upstairs to interview a man on the 6th floor for a story. As I got to his open door, I could see he was busy so I politely waved and stood around the corner, waiting until he finished his business. (I tend to give people in “The Building” the upper hand when it comes to prioritzing their time. The way I see it, their ministry is probably way more important than my story and I can proably afford to wait a few minutes.)

As I “listened” (OK, eavesdropped), I was surprised to hear him dictating a letter to his “ministry assistant” (OK, secretary). Are we still doing this? In late 200 7? Is writing a letter really that far beneath you?
Personally, I would find it hard to “speak” a letter. One of the great benefits of typing a letter is that the composer of said letter is able to view the document as a whole even as it evolves, thus ensuring the proper tone, clarity, uniformity and the letter’s effectiveness in communicating the desired message (and supposedly, who knows this better than the person sending it?).
The only way I will give this man a pass is that he is the oldest person on staff and may not be able to type a mind-blowing 15 wpm like me. But still, even if he was relegated to mere hunt and peckery, at least it would stave off arthritis.

Feliz Cumpleanos a Mi

Well-done, Please turns one year old today.
Two thoughts:
1) In 364 days, I’ve written 55 posts, just over one a week (1.008 per week to be exact). That’s a little pathetic, considering the pros can bang out 10 or 12 a day.
2) To my knowledge, only five people know this blog exists (including me) and as far as I know I’m the only regular reader. Good. That’s pretty much how I wanted it.

I found it!

A little less than a year ago, I referenced the Muppet version of Jim Croce’s classic, Time in a Bottle. Well, hold on your pants, folks, because thanks to the magic of YouTube, I’ve found that very song. Be sure you have your hankies ready.

He Came on Down! (And I didn’t get the memo!)

Ah, Fate. You are a cruel mistress.