I’ve long since given up the fight for proper spelling. People is dum. They will misspell things. The place I eat lunch at has a sign that says “Thank you for your busness.” At first I thought maybe someone stole the I but when the guy asked me how to spell bacon I thought maybe there was an underlying problem. And, no, I’m not really talking about the misuse of homonyms as in their/there/they’re and it’s/its. With the advent of spellcheck and autocorrect these words get bypassed easily because they are spelled correctly, just erroneously placed.

What’s chafing my hide today is the lack of logical spelling on personalized plates. I mean, I know folks are limited to 8 characters most places and that sometimes the word you want just won’t fit and you have to get creative but the phonetic resonance must still flow and the tags should still be obvious and readable. To wit: I got behind a woman today with the personalized plate BUTTERFY.


I tried to work it out in my mind in the dozens of possible arcane permutations that might explain this egregious oversight (such as she’s an accountant for a proctologist, making the combination of BUTT plus ER plus FY for fiscal year) but each one seemed impossible, improbable and laughable, even moreso than the obvious Occam’s Razor misspelling. She meant BUTTERFLY but that doesn’t fit. So? We give her a pass? Hellzapoppin’ NO! You can’t fit BUTTERFLY on tags you don’t leave out the L – you leave out the E or even one of the Ts. Or, heck, think outside the box and go with BUTTAFLY. The only thing I can think of to not make this IQ-deficient driver seem regretfully hopeless is that all those deviations were already taken and she went with the one that wasn’t. Yet, given that answer, I must react with a resounding dope slap and a guttural NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! At the point you discover the tags you want are taken, even all the obvious variations, you come up with something else! Why? Perhaps a little self-respect, for starters. And despite the fact that Twitter and texting have given rise to a culture of abbreviated initializations, you still have to ensure that every one at the very least makes some bizarre sense and doesn’t have you come off as an ill-educated dorkus who was home schooled in a damp, dark basement by mouth-breathing yokels.

And, also, because if you don’t I get behind you and you look like a buffoon on my blog.


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