The Chosen Feud

The Lego Movie opens today. If the promo I saw recently is accurate, the movie is going to be … awesome.

Alas, no one wants to see it with me. Mila Kunis and I should, like a couple of Lego pieces, go together. We would click. I await her call. In the meantime, I’ve assembled a choice post, brick by brick. Enjoy.

No one way exists to tackle a Lego set. When you open the box and dump out its contents, you can follow the pictorial instructions and match the image seen on the box, or you can sidestep the steps and build whatever you dream.

Such options don’t exist when constructing sentences. Words, unlike Legos, don’t always connect. An incorrect tense, for example, can mar the most imaginative creation.

Chose is the past tense of choose, and the independent clause introduced by the conjunction so in the first sentence of this USA Today deck is in the past tense, but “to chose from” is a grammatical construction called an infinitive. Such constructions always use present-tense verbs. (Without delving too deeply into a rather dry subject, let me point out that an infinitive — to plus the present tense of a verb — is one type of verbal, which is a word or group of words that combine characteristics of a verb with those of a noun or adjective. In this deck, “to chose from” functions as an adjective because it modifies the noun lot. The true verbs in the clause are were and scripted.)

Chose is close to choose, but it doesn’t have the right dose of o’s. Pose another o in chose and your prose will be on the nose. Trust editors. We’re pros.

When it’s an infinitive, it’s definitive: Choosy spellers choose choose. Do not accept chose.

That concludes my piece of resistance.

Oh, I have one more thought, should you, ahem, choose to read it. Isn’t it strange that chose, with one o, doesn’t rhyme with lose, but choose, with two o’s, does? Yet chose doesn’t rhyme with loose; it rhymes with lows. I bet that hit you like a ton of Lego bricks.

They're All Mine!

In an NBA playoff game against the Boston Celtics in April 1986, second-year pro Michael Jordan continued his ascension into rarefied air. Jordan soared that Sunday afternoon, and he forever remained in the stratosphere. In the first-round game, played in the old Boston Garden, Air Jordan set a playoff record by scoring 63 points in a double-overtime loss, going over, around and through the Celtics, the eventual NBA champions. Boston’s superstar, Larry Bird, grasping for superlatives after the game, described his opponent as “God disguised as Michael Jordan.” Question: How many of his 63 points did MJ score? This is not a trick question. The answer appears at the end of today’s post.

Kaleena Mosqueda-Lewis plays basketball for the UConn women’s team. Football is not her sport, though today she needs a “quarter back.” The sentence pictured below, as written, implies that Mosqueda-Lewis didn’t score all of her points.

Does she have a surrogate scorer? Who is claiming ownership of those other eight points? Did a teammate on the far end of the bench, the one who gets almost no playing time, play the part of Mosqueda-Lewis while she was out of the game? Is that what’s meant by “role player”?

We’re missing a prepositional phrase after points. Some sort of illuminating qualifier is required. Did she score 24 of her 32 points...

… at the free-throw line?
… with her eyes closed?
… in a 10-minute span?
… under hypnosis?
… before picking up her fourth personal foul?
… while hopping on one leg?
… on 3-pointers?
… by bribing the officials?

None of the above. Mosqueda-Lewis scored 24 of her 32 points in the first half, but she scored 32 of her 32 points. Give credit — full credit — where credit is due.

In basketball terms, you could say Mosqueda-Lewis netted 32 points. You could also say she grossed 32 points. Any deductions made would be for taxing purposes — and would be considered gross negligence. That’s my point.

My point.

No one else’s.

Answer: All of them. Jordan scored 63 of his 63 points. Imagine that.

I Examine "Nation"

Chase what matters. What matters are equality, justice and … capitalization, which I broached during a patriotic address last July. In the summer of 2013, the U.S. lacked capital. Today, the third day of Black History Month, our nation is at risk. (Thank you to my friend Lindsay, of IAMNOTASTALKER, for stumbling upon a Chase Bank in Santa Monica, California, with extra capital and sharing today’s black mark.)

Let’s cut to the chase. We have a problem in our nation’s capital. No, not D.C. For some reason, a certain common noun contains an uppercase letter.

In the spirit of Martin Luther King Jr., Rosa Parks, Jackie Robinson et al, I’m going to bring about change in our Nation. Those three pioneers encountered violence, oppression and discrimination at every turn. My struggle for justice pales in comparison; it is free of risk and encumbered by nary a great obstacle. The harshest resistance I’ll face, should I meet any at all, will come in the form of a mean-spirited reader comment or two. I can live with that.

Here, then, is my vision of revision. It’s detailed and complicated, so try to stay with me.

Change N to n. Nation’s N-trance should be smaller, if you will.

You can bank on it.

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I’d like to end today’s post with an unrelated question:

Did you hear about the killing in New Jersey yesterday?

It would have made Tony Soprano proud. It made me proud.

Seattle slew the opposition last night.

Thank you, Seahawks, for, ahem, outmanning the Denver Broncos and putting Peyton in his place. That was truly a super Super Bowl. Some readers may be disappointed, but the Super Bowl XLVIII outcome was just what those of us who have had our fill of Denver’s quarterback wanted.

The Seahawks tamed the Broncos from start to finish, and the Space Needle-sized margin of victory was a joy to witness. The Broncos were beaten like the eggs in a Denver omelet.

Delicious!