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EDITOR’S NOTE: Former Regent Dennis Suplee is a funny guy, occasionally on purpose. We have some extra space that we need to fill, so we offer here a new Suplee-ism, hoping it isn’t a waste of space. You may have noticed that Dennis is becoming a regular contributor; he has a lot of funny stuff to say, and he manages to say it without hurting his rotator cuffs patting himself on the back. So we publish him. We’d like to publish you if you have something to say, and if you are as funny and as self-deprecating \[spoiler alert – that word has meaning in this piece\] as Dennis, send us your thoughts. So, what’s a typo? I like Gail Collins’ definition: any mistake made while typing. That way, even a substantive error in one’s written product can be brushed aside as a trivial matter. Thus, if someone were to show that it was Maureen Dowd, not Gail Collins, who proffered that definition, I can just shrug and say, “Sorry about the typo.” Usually a typo is just a small zit on the beatific appearance of your latest written opus. But sometimes a typo can be a word spelled somewhat like the one intended but ludicrously wrong in context (often resulting in an unintended sexual innuendo), thereby converting prosaic to hilarious. Such as the case I had some years ago in which the judge issued an order granting a preliminary injunction in part because to do so would be “in the pubic interest.” Within three minutes of the error being called to the law clerk’s attention, a revised order was issued. Likewise, Judicial Fellow Gerry McHugh recounts that, before he went on the Bench, his law firm considered hiring a public relations firm, which sent a pitch that said “We look forward to handling your pubic relations.” Beware Spell-check. It can alert you when your typo is not a word. But it cannot tell when you have used the wrong word. I recently received an email from another lawyer in which he remarked that “the bedding odds” on the next deponent were 50/50. The bedding odds? Are we talking about the same case? Fellow Liz Ainslie once had to let a recent law school grad whose last name was Regent know that the firm was not hiring at this time. Just as she was about to sign the form letter her secretary had prepared, Liz noticed that it began, “Dear Mr. Reject.” No point in beating about the bush. Fellow Bob Byman had a secretary for many years who was very good, but who was not a native English speaker. He realized early on that her work would require careful proofreading when the first memo he dictated for her to transcribe began “This is to memorialize our agreement . . .” but the draft came out “This is to moralize our agreement . . . “ Then there was the time I wrote a condolence note to the wife – I dislike the word widow – of a partner who had just died. She sent a reply: “Thank you for your very kind note. I will forget it.” Recognizing that she had inadvertently omitted the word “not” from the second sentence, and notwithstanding the sadness of the event that led to our correspondence, I laughed out loud. Then it occurred to me that maybe it was not a typo at all. Maybe she felt obliged to respond to my note but wanted to let me know that my effort was so woefully inadequate that she would soon forget it. I never sought clarification. How many times have you seen an expert described as “imminently qualified?” I always get a mental picture of a Ph.D. candidate walking up to receive her diploma. She is “imminently qualified” as she walks forward but upon delivery of her sheepskin becomes “eminently qualified.” Can you have a spoken typo? Technically no, since there is no typing in speaking. If it’s oral, it’s a malapropism, a term that traces to Dickens’ Mrs. Malaprop. But typos and malapropisms have the same genetic roots. With that in mind I am reminded of Father Greg Boyle, the Jesuit who runs Homeboy Industries, which seeks to transition former gang leaders into productive citizens. On one occasion, a former gang leader burst into Fr. Boyle’s office and said “Father, I need ten minutes of your completely divided attention!” “You got it,” came the reply. On another occasion another former gang leader, who had been very successful in speaking to community groups, said to Fr. Boyle “You know what the secret to public speaking is? Self-defecating humor.” To which Fr. Boyle replied, “No s___!”. SUMMER 2023 JOURNAL 80 SIMPLY SUPLEE