By Tim Sanders

Here is yet another grammar column. Try to answer the questions yourself before looking at the professional journalist’s answers that follow. If you spend enough time on your grammar when you are young, in your later years, when you are wasting away in a garret, you will be able to compose an exceptional farewell note which will consist of no more than 1,000 words and contain excellent punctuation. (Remember to indent, double-space, and avoid flowery adjectives.)

Q: Where did the word "tofu" come from?

A: People commonly define tofu as "a cake made of soybean curd, often used in vegetarian dishes," but that does not answer your question, does it? "Tofu" is a combination of the Greek words "toe" and "fu." Toes are those wiggly things on the end of your feet, and fu is what often makes them smell the way they do.

Podiatrists agree that most foot fu comes from old wool sweat socks. I’m sure you can see the connection, now.

Q: So what is a "curd," and can you use it in a sentence?

A: A curd is either a person from Curdistan, or something you just thought of. As in, "It just a curd to me, Leon, what that nasty thing floating in that there cereal bowl might of been."

Q: When I ring the doorbell and somebody says "Who is it?" should I say "It is I at the door" or "It is me at the door?"

A: Neither. Just set the sack of dog poop on fire and run away.

Q: What are the main parts of a sentence?

A: The first part is the sentencing hearing, where the judge pronounces sentence. "SENT-INTS," he says, very distinctly. And of course everyone in the courtroom says "Ah!"

Then there’s the part where the judge gives you five years, with time off for good behavior, for setting fire to your cousin Bob’s accordion while Bob was playing it.
Finally it’s time for the most important part, the sentence itself. This is where they take all your possessions, put them into Zip-Loc bags, throw them away and give you an orange jump suit. Then they introduce you to your new cell "mate," a 300 lb. ex-biker named Earl. Earl says he wants you to call him "Daddy," and he’ll call you "Veronica." Earl also likes to dance, and by the time your sentence is over, you'll be able to tango like nobody’s business.

Q: I wrote a short story which contained the following sentence: "When the phone rang, Lenny was sitting on the sofa with a cool, refreshing beverage in his underwear." My Literature professor told me it was confusing. What did he mean?

A: Literature professors are easily confused, but I suppose he wanted to know if the beverage in Lenny’s underwear was Coke or iced tea, and whether Lenny was wearing boxers or briefs. He was probably also curious as to just where Lenny kept his Nachos.

Q: I recently read this in the San Francisco Chronicle: "Scientists studying monkeys at the San Diego Zoo tell us that they’ve learned to tie square knots and recognize their names printed on large cardboard signs." Does this surprise you?

A: Not necessarily. I knew a scientist, once, who learned to tie his shoes while talking on his cell phone. Unfortunately, while ordering a pizza he rode his bicycle into a power pole, broke his nose and bent his handlebars.

Q: Nina at work is always using the phrase "bone of contention." Where is that bone located?

A: A couple of feet below the skin of your teeth. (By the way, do you have Nina’s phone number?)

Q: Can you use the phrase "with all due respect" in a sentence?

A: Yes I can: "Larry, you are the most sneakiest gutter rat I ever seen in my whole dang life, and that goes double for your momma, with all due respect."

Q: I heard Chris Matthews say that as a debater, John Edwards "couldn’t hold a candle" to Barack Obama. What do you think?

A: I’m not familiar with the Democrats’ debating rules, but I firmly believe that even if Edwards were to hold a blowtorch to Obama, it wouldn’t help. With all due respect.

Q: My grandmother used to glance at me and then tell Momma: "Little pitchers have big ears." What did she mean by that?

A: Sorry, that is a baseball question, and this is a grammar column.

Q: I read this in the Boston Globe: "Some candidates opt for bus transportation on short trips, but Dennis Kucinich and his entourage of 30 flies." Is that a complete sentence?

A: No. There is a dangling Kucinich at the end. I’d suggest something like: "Some candidates opt for bus transportation on short trips, but Dennis Kucinich and his entourage of 30 flies usually travel by oxcart."

Q: I have some friends who have "The Johnson’s" printed on their mailbox. Something about it doesn’t look right to me. Why?

A: That could be because:

a) their mailbox is in the backyard, or

b) their last name is Ferguson.

Q: No, I think it has something to do with that apostrophe.

A: Even by my standards that’s not a question.

Q: All right then, if that apostrophe indicates possession, then answer this: THE JOHNSON’S WHAT?

A: The Johnson’s mailbox. (Don’t thank me, I get paid for this kind of expertise.)

Q: Do you ever resort to cheap literary devices?

A: No. Except for a used pencil sharpener I bought years ago at a flea market, all of my literary devices are top-of-the-line Office Depot models, produced by actual Japanese corporations.

Q: What is the proper way to start a high school English paper on William Faulkner?

A: Right off the bat, mention Thurlow Spur and the Spurrlows.

Q: Who were Thurlow Spur and the Spurrlows, and which book were they in?

A: They were a singing group that appeared at a high school assembly in my hometown of Middleville, Michigan when I was a kid. They had nothing to do with Faulkner; I just like the name and think it should be used whenever possible. Also, it will distract your teacher from the fact that you know absolutely nothing about Faulkner because you were busy text messaging your friend Brad instead of listening to her lectures.

Q: If the pluperfect tense is formed with the past participle of a verb and the auxiliary "had," then what, pray tell, is the difference between pluperfect and past perfect?

A: Uh ... Thurlow Spur and the Spurrlows.