It’s here for good.
It’s evolved into something milder.
Maybe it is the new flu.
When words have firmly entered the vernacular, we tend to lowercase them.
As in: “Eat my ass, covid.”
So I think we should lowercase it. Hear that, Canadian Press and all the other style guides out there jostling for primacy and torturing various copy editors I happen to know? Let’s do this.
And with that, I’m pouring myself a scotch.
Are you in the “Yanny” camp or the “Laurel” camp?
LBHQ is divided—or at least the humans are: two for Laurel and two for Yanny.
I just hear “Johnnie.”
Nope.
I’ve been thinking a lot about lost opportunities. Kind of like this bear cub here going into a liquor store—and heading for the CANDY.
I assure you, my fellow inebriates, if I ever get a chance to enter a liquor store, I will head for the single malt scotch.
This little bear cub could use a mentor.
Liquorstore Bear 