A Semi-Serious Column

Hello. This is a brief Monday elegy to my favorite punctuation mark, the semicolon. The semicolon is apparently on life support because of ignorant, illiterate Americans, according to this good, intelligent column by Mark Lasswell of The Washington Post, a newspaper otherwise engaged in an endless campaign to infantilize its readership.

I am embittered; this is an outrage.

I am appalled by the notion that the use of the semicolon is rapidly fading and on its deathbed; I reject it, as one must reject all other national efforts to dumb us down. And you know of whom I am speaking. Something must be done

I have said in the past — I believe this is true — that I am the most prolific employer of the semicolon in literary history; I am its boss. I once tried to count the number of times I used it in the book “One Day” and nearly exploded the computer in the attempt.

Here is the thing about the semicolon: It is subtle, unlike the colon or the period. It does not condescend to the reader. A period instructs the reader, as though he or she were an idiot, that a sentence has ended and another independent sentence shall begin forthwith, so just move on. A colon says, stupidly: Here, read this.

A semicolon involves no such condescension. It is a horizontal wink. A wink, delivered from a recumbent, sideways position. There is no other punctuation mark like it. An old, wise person in bed, possibly a day before his or her death. It is imparting a wisdom, a final gift. It is saying, “Here comes another thought but one that is related to the previous in a subtle way; do not close off memory of the last thing I said merely because of stupid grammatical rules. Those rules are not the boss of you. Understand that. You are a sentient being; use your brain.”

Then the person in the bed dies, but the semicolon remains. It is his or her intellectual legacy to an increasingly stupid, cognitively limited, electorate world.

It is no coincidence that the word after the semicolon, if it is not a proper noun, begins in lowercase. This is something so brilliantly subtle, it whispers.

The semicolon is not like airplane glue, as is the period. It is like Astroglide or K-Y Jelly. It oozes you into the next thought without friction. Without discomfort. I will be criticized for this comparison, but it is a feminist punctuation mark. I accept whatever cancellation punishment occurs now, but defend the sentiment; I am unafraid.

I think that is all I have to say today in this matter. Today’s Gene Pool Gene Poll:

Because I do not like to beg, I shall not beg for money today; the button remains for those who feel charity or some whisper of guilt.

Questions and Observations: