Culver's is Delicious, Confusing

The Drivers became fans of Culver's while on vacation in Minnesota. On a highway just north of Moose Lake, we saw a billboard that advertised something called a "ButterBurger". We weren't sure what that meant, but we were certain that we needed to find out.

Note: The Driver later learned that the inspiration for the "ButterBurger" might be this place — where the burger is actually served swimming in an obscene amount of butter. Culver's might put something similar to butter on its buns prior to grilling, but in no way does that compare to an actual "ButterBurger". The Driver will be trying a true "ButterBurger" as soon as possible.

Anyhow, The Drivers also learned that the Wisconsin-born burger chain sells not only "ButterBurgers", but frozen custard as well. And that in addition to chocolate and vanilla frozen custard, Culver's offers a Flavor of the Day.

All that to show you this — a photo of a Culver's sign:

The Drivers opted for chocolate custard over "BBQ Brisket".

And as long as we're dissecting the Culver's sign, it has always been The Driver's opinion that the company should have paid the extra $5 per sign for an ampersand after the word "Custard". Or perhaps splurged on the word "and" in front of "ButterBurgers".

Instead, The Driver pores over the concept of a "Frozen Custard ButterBurger".

Mmm... Frozen Burger...

New Taco Bell Item Not to Be Confused with "Cheesy Megadeth Taco"

In Your Grocer's "Personal" Area

So... Many... Jokes...

Good Grammar Costs Nothing. Or, About $12

The Driver has just learned about "Common Errors in English Usage."

The website is free.

The book is worth it.

Abusers of grammar now have fewer excuses.

Thanks to Alacrity Creative for the tip.

Executively Posted Addendum

A single sentence might destroy The Driver. It's so bad, he can't even clearly articulate its shortcomings. Of course, it was early in the morning, and The Driver hadn't had his Dr Pepper.

In the previous post, The Driver makes the shocking accusation that a radio spot for the new 4-door Porsche Panamera lists "a second row of... passengers" as standard equipment.

Upon reading the sentence no fewer than 17 more times, The Driver concedes that the radio spot is not technically incorrect.

Here's the sentence again:

And with the addition of a second row of executively seated passengers, there's no end to the rules you can break.

While the passengers are still described as being seated "executively," the sentence does not claim that Porsche added them to the vehicle. Instead, the listener is meant to infer that he or she should add a second row of passengers, make sure that they are seated executively, and then go out and break some rules.

The spot further suggests that the Porsche Panamera enables the user to break rules -- especially with the addition of a second row of executively seated passengers. It is not clear whether the word "rules" refers to the traffic laws in the customer's particular jurisdiction -- or whether the consumer and his passengers are simply supposed to drive around in a Panamera and challenge established social norms. While seated executively.

The Driver really should be focusing on paying work right now. But this stupid Porsche ad has him hot under the advertising collar. Here's why:

1. When the suits win, the brand loses. No copywriter in his right mind would ever choose the word "executively" to describe seats, passengers or an effing set of golf clubs. It's barely a word. It's clumsy. And it's merely some product manager's idea of saying something classy. This abomination of a sentence in an otherwise Porsche-quality radio spot was written by a suit -- and when a copywriter tried to edit it back into English, the suit held a gun to the copywriter's head and threatened to make him/her write table tents at Chili's for the rest of his/her career. When suits start writing the brand copy, the brand loses touch with its audience. And even if that audience may, in fact, be comprised entirely of suits (and prefer to sit executively as opposed to traditionally), they still don't appreciate being patronized.

2. Jargon wins. And don't get The Driver started on jargon. He has given lectures on avoiding jargon. He has dedicated a good portion of his life to eliminating jargon from marketing. And if he gets started on jargon for the sake of a silly blog post, he's going to blow a deadline. Jargon always ruins everything. Always. Everything. Period.

Good grammar. There is no substitute.

Above: The new 4-door Porsche Panamera boasts an array of poorly-described features -- and some very surprising additions.

Porsche just introduced a new 4-door performance sedan -- and with it, the end of advertising as we know it.

For years, Porsche has set a standard in the advertising community for smart, sophisticated and deftly executed branding. Art directors and copywriters hang Porsche print ads in their cubicles like rock posters or album covers. And back in the 1980s, Tom Cruise permanently cemented the Porsche slogan in the cultural lexicon.

Now, with the release of its campaign for the 4-door Panamera, Porsche throws it in reverse, grinds the gears and awkwardly backs into a telephone pole.

Below is the copy for a Panamera radio spot that's currently in rotation. See if you can find the one word that ruins everything.

No one has the capacity to break the rules more than Porsche. And now, the new Panamera. The legendary sports car driving experience built for four. The staggering Porsche power is unmistakably present. As is the relentlessly precise handling. And with the addition of a second row of executively seated passengers, there's no end to the rules you can break. Porsche. There is no substitute.

Did you find it? The Driver did. In fact, had The Driver not been sorting laundry when he first heard this spot on the radio, he might have swerved his 2000 Toyota Tacoma off the road and into a ditch.

"Executively"?

Yes.

Executively.

Unfortunately, it's actually a word. Really. The Driver looked it up. He was shocked. And not happy.

Fortunately, "no one has the capacity to break the rules more than Porsche." Apparently, this not only applies to the laws of car making, but also to the rules of advertising, grammar, communication, and all that's holy.

That brings us to the grammar problem. Because that awful, awful word isn't even used correctly. The ad promises "a second row of executively seated passengers." This literally means that the passengers themselves are somehow seated... executively. Does this mean their legs are crossed? Ankle-to-knee, or knee-over-knee? Are they somehow uptight? The Driver thinks of most executives as stuffy and humorless. Are they even enjoying the fact that they're seated executively?

Wait a minute.

On further review, The Driver wonders whether Porsche isn't setting itself up for a world of hurt. Again, the ad promises "the addition of a second row of executively seated passengers".

In other words, the car comes with extra people in the back seat.

Does the customer at least get to choose the passengers? Are they available in an array of colors? Are the passengers volunteers or paid employees? Is the customer responsible for their healthcare benefits? Seeing as how they're seated so executively, that could be costly.

Bottom line, someone had better check this out with the ACLU.

The Driver thinks that Porsche meant to suggest that the second row of seats in the new Panamera are "executively appointed". He thinks that means "leather", but he can't be sure. His 2000 Toyota Tacoma boasts only one row of seats, and they are only blue-collarly appointed. Also, it has no more than two passengers at any given time, none of which came standard with the vehicle.

Every choice has consequences. Here are the consequences of Porsche's decision to go with "executively":

1. A Porsche Product Manager quietly closes his thesaurus, leans back in his chair and smiles with self-satisfaction. He has captured the essence of the seating experience in the Panamera in a way that's never been articulated.

2. Several attorneys in Porsche's legal department read a copy of the radio script and (after a number of emails and at least one conference call with the account executive at Porsche's ad agency) decide it's safe to claim that passengers in the Panamera might be seated executively. Except in Georgia.

3. An account executive reads the script, circles the word "executively" and draws a smiley face next to it. She's not sure whether that's an actual word, but she knows it's different. She decides to pitch it to her steakhouse client -- thinking that the audience would appreciate the value of an "executive-chefly-prepared" $5 buffet.

4. An entire generation of marketing writers begin hawking "a vast array of world-class, executively-customized solutions" to meet their customers' needs.

5. A copywriter quietly deposits his paycheck at his bank, drives to the nearest bar, drinks four beers, drives home, and kicks his dog.

What's in a Name?

Mrs. Driver discovered this store at a recent trip to our local shopping center. Said Mrs. Driver, "Why would anyone want a tailor for THAT?"

The sign on the easel in the entry didn't offer much to make things better. Apparently, "B" and "M" are the initials of the proprietor. His first name? Bong. As in "Bong's Tailor".

The Driver didn't stop to inquire about the "While You Wait Crotch".

Where's the Bakery, and is it Fresh?

The Driver recently cruised to an unfamiliar grocery store to pick up a pie and some ice cream. He needed to find the bakery department. Thankfully, the grocery store had created and installed the above signage and wayfinding system.

Intermediate Spelling: $75

Self-Contained Grammar Lesson of the Day

Good Grammar Costs Nothing, Could Pay

From a frequent 72Pinto passenger (forwarded by Mrs. Driver), via the magic of the Interwebs:

La Buena Gramatica No Cuesta Nada

Poor Chad Javon Ocho Cinco of the Cincinnati Bengals. Perhaps he should have consulted 72Pinto before legally changing his name. Maybe even just run it by a bilingual friend.

Either way, The Driver is pretty sure that Mr. Ocho Cinco was going for a Spanish translation of his jersey number. Technically, that would be "ochenta y cinco" (or in American football parlance, "eighty-five").

Instead, the legal name of The Player Formerly Known as Chad Johnson is now "Chad Eight Five." Or, if he's signing a mortgage or other document that requires a full name, "Chad Javon Eight Five."

Granted, "Chad Ochenta y Cinco" doesn't exactly roll off the tongue. Then again, neither does "Chad Translation Error."

Note to readers: The Driver has not legally changed his given name. Rumor has it, however, that Mrs. Driver has given it some thought. Because hey, who wouldn't want to be "Mrs. Driver"? Aw, yeah.

It's a Lot to Remember

The Driver doesn't quite know how he developed his grammar skills. It certainly wasn't from textbooks. And where he learned his critical nature is an altogether different story. Either way, in an attempt to educate (read: sometimes help, but mostly correct and thereby feel superior to) his readership on the often overlooked nuances of the written word, The Driver offers a series of posts entitled, "Good Grammar Costs Nothing." Those interested in expanding their grammatical horizons may click the eponymous "Label" in the column at right to view all posts grammar-related.

Today's post : "a lot" vs. "alot."

The answer : It's two words. Always.

Here's why :

a lot or lots (adverb) a great deal; much :

Dr Pepper is a lot better than Pepsi

The Driver has consumed a lot of cheeseburgers

Where it comes from :

lot (noun) a group, collection, or set of people or things :

He purchased the whole lot of vintage beer cans for the very reasonable price of $30.

"F**k the lot of you! F**k you all!"

-- Dave Moss [ Ed Harris ], "Glengarry, Glen Ross"

(WARNING : Extreme language and David Mamet writing.)

It's : Not That Difficult

Cursed spell-check. It's made us all lazy. So it's easy to overlook stuff. In today's post, we tackle :

It's vs. Its

Let's break it down :

It's = "It is." As you'll recall from a previous post, any time you see an apostrophe in a word, it indicates a combination of two separate words. It's a kind of "shortcut," if you will. "You're," for example, is the combination of "You + are." "Didn't" is the shortcut for "Did + not."

Its = "Belonging to it." Think about "his," "hers," "yours," "theirs," "ours" and "its." They're called (we think) possessive pronouns. All you need to worry about is that they don't ("do + not") require apostrophes. 

Examples :

It's funny to watch a dog wag its tail. ["It is funny to watch a dog wag (his / her) tail."]

It's true that a cheeseburger's taste can be thrown off by its bun-to-meat ratio. ["It is" true that a cheeseburger's taste can be thrown off by (that cheeseburger's) bun-to-meat ratio."]

But wait! What about the use of "It's" in the second sentence of this post? "It IS made us all lazy"? That doesn't ("does + not") make sense?

True. In this case, "It's" = "It has." That's the beauty of that wacky apostrophe. It can combine all kinds of word pairs.

"It'll" = "It will"

"It'd" = "It would"

"It's" = "It is" or "It has"

Another way to look at it : If you're writing about time or state of being, use "It's."

"It's been a long time."

"It's hot."

If you're writing about something that belongs to someone or something else, use "Its."

"The problem with the 1972 Ford Pinto was with its gas tank, which was susceptible to explosion."

In every case, just take a moment to re-read what you've written. Over time, it's easier to spot stuff like this if you give your writing its proper due diligence.

Next post : When writing about grammar, why does The Driver hear himself typing with a British accent?

A Little About Myself

Okay. The Driver just spent a few minutes reviewing the matter of when and / or how to use the word "myself." He is still a bit cross-eyed and woozy, but recovering nicely.

Basically, the best rule of thumb is: Don't use "myself" as a substitute for "me" or "I."

But, wait. Isn't that what the word is for? Doesn't "myself" refer to the first person? Well, yes. But not in the way one might think.

Incorrect: "Harold and myself went to White Castle."

(Don't substitute "myself" for "I.")

Correct: "I myself have been known to go to White Castle."

(This is something called an "intensive" use. Don't ask.)

Incorrect: "Myself and the others are going to White Castle."

(Don't substitute "myself" for "I.")

Correct: "The others and I are going to White Castle."

"Myself" is most commonly (and correctly) used as something called a reflexive pronoun. It refers back to another pronoun earlier in a sentence.

"I told myself there was nothing to worry about."

(Here, "myself" refers to the pronoun "I.")

"They ate themselves silly at Kincaid's."

("Themselves" refers to "they.")

"He told me I was kidding myself."

(Refers to "me")

Advanced:

"And then he — he himself, the Grinch — carved the roast beast."

That's right, folks. 72Pinto: Where more people get their grammar. Okay, four people. That we know of. But that's probably more than the number of people who get their grammar from... say... the air sickness bag on a plane.

Speaking of sources of grammar, The Driver is obliged to cite drgrammar.org as his reference for this post -- but in doing so, he also requests that you continue to get at least some of your grammar from 72Pinto. Please?

"I" Before "Me" Except After... Wait...

We're taught early on that it's barbaric to use the word "me" in reference to oneself. But the lingering fear of our third grade grammar teacher can get us into some really awkward situations:

For instance, it's incorrect to ask, "Are you riding with Starsky and I?"

Or, "Trent called Mikey and I about the party in the Hills."

Sometimes we get so worried about always using "I" that we even make up words:

"Janice is his and I's sister." [Correct: "Janice is his and my sister."]

Some of us get so freaked out that we resort to the somewhat uncomfortable and very often misused "myself":

For example, "Please see Bob or myself about the TPS reports" is incorrect. [Correct: "Please see Bob or me about the TPS reports."]

Here's the first (and possibly only) rule:

1. Leave them out of it.

Think about what would happen if the sentence were only about you:

For instance, "Trent called I about the party in the Hills" doesn't work. We would say, "Trent called me about the party in the Hills." So when we add Mikey back into it, this sentence should read:

"Trent called Mikey and me about the party in the Hills."

That's it. "Me" is perfectly acceptable in this case. No worries. No crack on the knuckles from Sister Agatha. This is absolutely correct.

And so is, "Are you riding with Starsky and me?" [Think: "Are you riding with I," or "Are you riding with me?"]

Note: In every instance, it is, in fact, correct to list the other person before oneself. Just think about putting others before yourself.

Example: "Me and my brother went to Boston" should read, "My brother and I went to Boston." [Think: "I went to Boston," and make sure to list the other person first.]

2. "What about 'myself'?"

The dictionary definition of "myself" gave The Driver tired-head. It was, after all, past his bedtime. And since he really wants this series of posts to be user-friendly and approachable, that means he's going to have to work a bit harder to dumb it down for you. Plus, he's not even sure he knows how to correctly use 'myself'... um... himself. He usually just re-writes the entire sentence to avoid stuff like that.

More Grammar Fun

Confused about their, they're and there?

It happens. Not to me, of course. But to some people. Although I have problems remembering how to spell "gauge" and "towel." But that's another post.

There vs. Their vs. They're

There = A physical location. Put the ham over there. Also a symbolic point of reference. I agree with you there.

Their = Belonging to "Them." It's their opinion that gourmet burgers are good.

They're = "They Are." They're obviously wrong about gourmet burgers.

Good Grammar Costs Nothing: Pilot

Hello, Friends.

As I am new to the whole "dynamic content" thing, I decided to come up with a series of... well... series of blog posts.

In the future, you can look forward to such topics as "So Many Cheeseburgers, So Little Attention to Detail," in which I document really good cheeseburgers that I don't remember well enough to list in the official "Cheeseburger Compendium."

But enough about that. You're here to read about grammar.

Notice that I didn't write, "YOUR here to read about grammar." Because that's incorrect.

And that's just the kind of thing you'll find me citing here -- those tricky little choices one faces each and everyday.

Wait. It's actually "every day." "Everyday" means "common" or "ordinary."

See?

Let's review:

1. You're vs. Your

Your = Belonging to You. Look at your belly-button. It's yours. You own it.

You're = "You Are." Any time you see an apostrophe in a word, that means it's (it is) a combination of two separate words. You're currently reading my blog = "You are currently reading my blog." I'm not reading your blog. You're reading mine.

2. Everyday vs. Every Day

Everyday = Ordinary. Misusing "everyday" is an everyday occurrence.

Every Day = Daily. Every day (every day) / every day (every day) / every day Elvis Costello writes the book.

Check back for more tips. And be sure to sort these posts, then bookmark the page to make a handy reference.

But of course, you already knew how to do that. Because you like technology.