Bear in mind this is a language where the word for “mess about with a small object and see if it does something” also means “play the violin”
“We have three different kinds of ‘moose’ and two are spelled the same,” argued Vic.
“Things went to crap when we switched to the phonetic alphabet. The entire context-necessary spelling convention has lead to unnecessary over-explanation.”
“I don’t like all the pronouns,” grumbled Jake. He was one of the Good-old-boy types from one of the less toxic Greater Deregulations. “It’s confusing. How in heck are you supposed to refer to something when you can’t tell its type?”
“I'faith, gentle sir, we find adequate use of their description, should their name become'st unknown.”
“SPEAK ENGLISH, DANGIT!”
“He is speaking English,” argued Vic.
“The problem,” said Paula, “Is none of us can agree on what English is. It’s a language that’s been begging, borrowing, and outright stealing words since it was recorded. It’s been changing because of invasion, invading, or just finding some word handy. Meaning is plastic… malleable. It changes with time… I’m starting to think this society is a lost cause. We’re only useful on occasion when some new Earth colony pops up and one of us has half a chance of understanding the dialect.”
The temperature dropped. Vic glared pure venom at her. “You can always leave the society. Should you continue to hold these… outrageous views.”
Right. Yes. Paula shrank in her seat. “It’s just a thought…” she mumbled.
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