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It is amusing to observe the antics of those who disregard ancient wisdom. Several years ago, despite our ancestors' advice on discretion and valor, the editors of The Baltimore Sun penned a critical response to an op-ed written by Bill Buckley. Although the acclaimed conservative accepted criticism gracefully, he was intolerant of those who profaned the English language.

"William F. Buckley, Jr.," the editors wrote, "whose elegant arrogance and affectation of a British accent has won him fame and fortune. &ellipses;" Figuratively speaking, the editors sandpapered the rear end of a wildcat.

Buckley's response is a classic piece of intellectual demolition, but an excerpt must suffice: "You should have written, 'William F. Buckley, Jr., whose elegant arrogance and affectation of a British accent have won him fame and fortune &ellipses;' You see, arrogance and affectation being separate modifiers, they require the use of the plural verb." (The entire exchange is reproduced in Buckley's book, "The Right Word.")

For several decades, the two Williams -- Buckley and Safire -- stood guard over the English language and rushed onto the scene, red markers in hand, to chastise the perpetrators of rhetorical wrongdoing. In the absence of the two Williams, the rest of us -- ordinary, blue-collar word-lovers -- must become literary vigilantes, lest the language be torn asunder.

Toward that end, let us consider a few recent bloopers, most of which appeared in these pages.

A few weeks ago, a public forum took place for candidates in City Council elections. A news article about the forum explained the candidates' positions on several issues. But several statements in the article were presented as questions, like this: "Candidates were asked if they favor reopening the White Street Landfill to household waste?" Here's another example: "Candidates were asked if they favor a policy that bans campaign contributions from people who do business with the city?"

I always look forward to reading "The Good Stuff," which gives us a reprieve from the daily onslaught of depressing news.

The author of one such feature was fortunate enough to encounter a stranger who helped him change a tire. But the inspirational tale ends on a sour note, like the clamor of someone falling into a drum set as the curtain falls on the orchestra: "Having no immediate family here to help me with this," the last sentence reads, "was like a breath of fresh air." Perhaps the author's family members are not mechanically inclined, or maybe they are extremely ornery. I suspect, however, that the sentence did not accurately convey the author's meaning.

A recent article from The Associated Press informed us of NASA's "bombing" of the moon with two unmanned spacecraft. It features a sentence that reads, "Sure the impact may seem big, but so is the moon." Another sentence says, "Still the moon beckons as an inviting target." The AP is very stingy with commas, isn't it? Doesn't it sound better to say, "Sure, the impact may seem big &ellipses;" and "Still, the moon beckons &ellipses;"? On its next bombing mission, perhaps NASA could target the AP Stylebook.

Speaking of style manuals, some women seem to have their own guidelines. For instance, a female might repeat a word to change the meaning of a sentence. When I express astonishment that my wife has showered and dressed in less than two hours, she says, "Well, I took a shower, but not a shower shower." What this means is, she didn't wash her hair, or she didn't shave her legs. If your wife drags you into the grocery store, she might be shopping merely for a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk. You will be in and out in five minutes. But if she is shopping shopping, you will traverse every aisle, spend a week's pay, and miss most of the football game.

Note that I placed a comma after "a week's pay," in violation of this newspaper's and the AP's rules on comma usage. The editors go to the grocery store for bread, ice cream and a gallon of milk; I go for bread, ice cream, and a gallon of milk. The second comma is hotly contested in many quarters, but seems to be only a matter of style.

Finally, in an article about dropping the computer skills test for local students, Beth Folger, chief of academics for Guilford County Schools, is quoted as follows: "Some of the things that they wanted students to learn was relevant, like sorting data bases and formatting text." Do you see what we're up against? The literary vigilante's work is never done.

Charles Davenport Jr. (cddavenportjr@hotmail.com) is a freelance columnist who appears alternate Sundays in the News & Record.