If you think the competition for tenure-track jobs in the U.S. is intense. . .
...good luck with that. We're about to be deluged with all the British academics fleeing the anti-intellectualism of the Brexiters.
Oh, come on! Be serious. You know that by this time next year we'll all be either working to build the walls around the work camps in North Dakota to which we've been assigned or attempting to settle into our new roles as grade-facilitators in the remedial-hamster-fur-weaving-success-for-all-at-any-cost-centers.Which means you don't have to worry about figuring out how they do things in the great frozen waste and therefore have more time for drinking toast's to America's "greatness".I've got a nice bottle of Shiraz around here. Let me just find the cork-screw.
There was a class—at some point—where someone taught me how to use apostrophes. I swear there was. So the blame is all mine. I admit it, and will draw a box around each of my passive verbs until Miss Donnahue's ghost can sleep restfully again.
I think the little buggers have become self-propelled. They sneak into inappropriate places in my own prose now and then, when I'm not looking. Either that, or apostrophe abuse is so rampant that we've lost our ability to see mistakes that we know darn well are mistakes.
We're all grocer's now.
I'm still a Canadian citizen, and she's always waiting for me, although I've been in the states since the 70s so it might as well be a foreign country to me.