In the menswear department of a store, I saw a lady about seventy sweep by with her overalls-clad husband in tow. "I'm lookin' for your Farah Fawcetts," she said to the confused clerk. "I'm sorry?" the clerk responded." Farah Fawcetts!" the lady barked, and pointed to her husband,"he needs him a new pair of trousers!" The clerk's eyes lit up "Oh! You mean Farrah slacks..."

My best friend in high school, Bubba (I'm serious), was a straight A student and very intelligent, but he had some reading comprehension problems. When we were studying primitive humanoids, he insisted on calling them "Netherlands Man" instead of Neanderthal. Ricardo Montalban became "Richard Montabano". And once, during a current events discussion, he brought up "the big ovary" that was being dug out on the west side of town. We sat amazed as he described the huge blocks of limestone that were being pulled up from the ovary, some containing fossils of ancient sea creatures. Turns out he was talking about a quarry.

Through all of Bubba's mispronunciations and malaprops, I bit my tongue and suffered in silence, never wanting to hurt his feelings by correcting him. One afternoon we were browsing in a used bookstore downtown when I remarked in jest "look, Bubba. Here's one by Sigmund Free-ood." He gently placed his hand on my shoulder, saying "thats Freud, Ern."