Tom Willard, a deaf man, has accused the Empire Haven Nudist Park of failing to comply with the Americans with Disabilities Act. Willard claims that Naturist Society refused to provide him with an interpreter for their annual nudist festival.
While we agree that Willard deserves to be heard (sorry), complaining you’re missing out on the music at a nudist festival sounds (sorry again) an awful lot like claiming to read the articles in Playboy.
The LPGA has just passed a rule that will require all lady golfers to pass an oral (heh) English exam next year. Any two-year members who can’t pass the test in 2009 will face an immediate suspension. This new rule will affect a possible 121 foreign golfers on the tour, especially 45 South Koreans with translators.
As an English-writing blogger and avid viewer of the LPGA, I say GOOD. It’s about time!
I mean, sure: I normally watch ladies’ golf like I watch Rachel Ray: on mute with soft lighting and an oven mitt. While I may not hear them speak dirty, indescribable things to me, I need to know that they could if I ever met them in real life. That means speaking English-lusty, filthy English.
And English is what? American. It’s as American as pizza and bratwurst. It’s been spoken by Americans like Arnold Schwarzenegger, Bruce Lee and Jean-Claude Van Damme since they were first born in small Midwestern towns. Go to any library, and you’ll find the great founding works of our country-the Bible, Montesquieu, the ancient Greeks-all written in one language: English, motherf–ker.
And that’s why I say, good for you, LPGA. I’ve been through what you’re going through … Continue reading Take it from Snee: Speak English or go home (LPGA edition)!
So, I was at Taco Bell for lunch (because nothing is more American than mystery meat and cheese in a flour tortilla). I waited patiently in line, using my time productively by deciding how I wanted my tortilla folded, and when it was my turn to order, I stepped up to the register.
The cashier did not greet me—strike one.
Unphased, I said, “Uh, yes, I would like a number three—soft tacos—with a Pepsi, please.” (Whenever I order, I always make sure to specify all the choices so the waiter doesn’t have to ask a bunch of questions. It lets them know that I appreciate blue-collar Americans and shortens the wait time for other diners.)
The cashier punched in my order, still saying nothing—strike two. Continue reading Take it from Snee: Speak English or go home!
