I read a columnist somewhere last week and learned I am more out of touch with reality than my daughter, Katy, has led me to believe.

I admit I don’t remember who the columnist was or where I read it, but I am sure I am not making this up, whatever it is because I don’t understand it.

Let’s delve into it.

I have been using all the wrong words for longer than I can remember, which isn’t long, but it must be awhile – I think. (I am trying to be very careful not to use the wrong word so this column may be very short – depending of course on… it, whatever… it… the bad word that is… is.)

Back to the subject, apparently there is a snotty, spit barrel full of words I have unknowingly been hacking up when I talk and write. The problem is I can’t say what the words are because if I do an inappropriate word ticket will arrive in the mail with a picture attached of my infraction and my insurance rates will go through the… high thing over my head (I think the R word was on the “if you say that word we will all begin whispering about you” list).

The columnist spewed out a docket of “do not dare say this or that” to be afraid of… and I am now duly afraid of… it… whatever it… the bad word that is… is.

Earlier today I was driving to the office in Covington and a song inadvertently came out of my radio. It was a hit song in the early 60s when hair was popular.

I heard the first line of the lyrics and panicked. I nearly drove off into a muddy field of prepositions without directional objects.

After calming myself, I checked my rear view mirrors for the enforcement clauses. I appeared to have escaped a very close call.

I decided it would be a good exercise to rewrite the lyric with the proper properlyness to help us all learn and be smiley.

The song begins like this: Something I’m not suppose to say, something not suppose to say… “Itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot”… more things I’m not suppose to say.

The something I’m not supposed to say is easy pleasey. I’m pretty sure yellow polka dot is reason for uppity buckets of snorts and snarfs. Bitsy teenie weenie is likely going to make someone want to chase me with a 10-pound dictionary that has never been opened.

That leaves itsy, which is fine piece of linguistologyness.

Here is the reformation lyric: itsy vasty, bigger baggy, burlap bundle of boodled sackinessly.

Pretty good, huh?

I feel confident I have now mended my evil, unforgivable ways and I have turned over a new…. something… let me check if the L word is OK. I’ll get back to you.