This is the last image I have on my work computer. I wiped everything recently as part of a personal audit of accumulated digital behavior. There was nothing wrong with all the personal data on my machine. It just might not be easy to explain all ten years' worth of it. CS texts me some pretty crazy stuff, etc.
Is "years" supposed to have an apostrophe? Seems like it should. What has worth that can be possessed? Years.
The apostrophe is probably the least useful grammatical punctuator. If you remove it from any phrase that is meant show possession the intention of the writer and the meaning of the phrase is still apparent. When used to indicate the omission of letters, there are only a few examples in which its absence might cause some fun and well-deserved confusion.
To keep in spirit and step with the times I am calling for the abolishment of apostrophes as a hangover from illegitimate colonialist supremacy, though I'm not sure if it's the white-devil British, Egyptian, Spanish, or Portuguese kind. Sounds like it's probably Greek, yet another colonialist monstrosity. What could be more telling than a little dash hanging over a word that is meant to indicate "possession"? These are the very marks of oppression. What you are seeing here is the literal enslavement of one word by another.
Where I do like to see them used is when a noun needs to be pluralized: Mistake's are liberating.
To reclaim what is rightfully ours perhaps the oppressed should start adding apostrophes where they do not belong, to show just how much has been taken from us:
C'a'l'l'i'n'g' i't' y'o'u'r' j'o'b' d'o'e's'n't' m'a'k'e' i't' r'i'g'h't'...'
I took a screenshot to demonstrate the one word that spell-check had a problem with above:
Fixed it:
Well, moving on. I spent more time than I should have explaining the tyranny of possession, and I didn't even get into the demonic kind, though I covered that in part a few days ago.
Weeks of rain now, weeks of rain to come. This is what happens to a person's mind when drenched in perpetuity.
I have part of the day free to myself; the boy has spent the night elsewhere.
The morning is mine and the rain's.
.
