LEND ME YOUR EAR: HELP WITH COLUMNS IS A TWO-WAY STREET

Easter was observed between these columns, so Richard Lederer's coinage "choconivorous" missed the hunt. The author of "The Miracle of Language" defines his amusing neologism as "the tendency when eating a chocolate rabbit to bite the head off first."

I can't believe my chocoholic friend Carol Little is "choconivorous." Carol is my Girl Friday who comes twice on alternate Thursdays to pick up the upcoming column, have copies made, return two and deliver the third to the newsroom. Without Carol, Lend Me Your Ear would have suffered a premature demise some years ago, but biting heads off is wholly foreign to her nature. Who should know better than I?

Without gracious readers who unwittingly inspire while requesting help, finis might have come earlier. Hence another effort to postpone meltdown with suggestions from readers far and near. Murray Dunn of Patton, a former teacher who established a steel fabrication company because (as he puts it) he had a family to support, inquires about the proliferation of "incredulous", used mistakenly for "incredible."

"Incredulous" means gullible, believing too easily. "Incredible" means wholly implausible, impossible to swallow. Sometimes the distinction has to do with which side of the podium we are coming from. We are "incredulous" if we doubt a rumor, but we can't be "incredible" excepting to others. If we call ourself incredible, we're either boasting or using the wrong word.

Confusion also arises between "credible" and "creditable." We hear "credible" over the air regularly when the speaker means "creditable." "Credible" denotes belief. "Creditable" means worthy of praise. The speaker or writer who says a newcomer to the theatre gave a "credible" performance means "creditable," deserving of applause.

From an anonymous reader comes a protest against the pervasive use of "advise" for "inform." To advise is to offer counsel or advice. To inform is to tender information. This distinction was explained in an earlier column, but my caller is a newcomer and notes the air is rife with announcers who speak of advising others of the latest from the White House. I heartily concur with the lady's preference for "inform."

Seldom do I receive a letter from James Kilpatrick without learning a new word, or find a familiar one used in a sense that had eluded me. Until recently I had never seen "vet" applied to manuscripts. I did know it was informal for "veterinarian." I didn't know it could be used as a verb, not even in doctoring animals. To vet a manuscript, dictionaries confirm, is to appraise it expertly. So here is your chance, gentle readers. Vet me!

"Lemmata" is another term I should have known but didn't. Webster's Ninth New lists definitions relating to the title or theme of a written work. But "lemmata" (or "lemmas") more often refers to the headings presented in bold or large type in reference works. As must be obvious, the singular form is "lemma."

Peg Bracken, whose "I Hate to Cook Book" remains a favorite even after 30 years, would like my opinion on the overuse of "impact," especially when a simpler word is better. Peg writes: "If a word does the job simply and understandably, then use it. But that wouldn't be good governmentese, would it? You have to say, `We must research how these measures impact the budget.'" "And the whole thing," Peg finishes, still with tongue in cheek, "impacts me adversely." I've never adjusted to "impact" as a verb, so the whole thing affects me the same way.

My nephew, Gus, known officially as Martin G. III, contributes a cartoon from Pensacola News Journal. Peanuts complains that he sometimes lies awake at night asking, "Is it all worth it?" Then a small voice asks, "Who are you talking to?" and another voice reminds him it's "To whom are you talking?" Peanuts concludes, "No wonder I lie awake at night."

Even highly literate readers and writers have trouble with "who" and "whom," to say nothing of "lay" and "lie." But Peanuts is to be commended for knowing correct grammar and having the courage to use it.

Bil Keane's offspring also uses "lie" properly. Recently, Jeffy had an idea for men on strike. "They should do what we do to get what we want," he told a companion "lie on the floor and kick."

Although Jeffy's method is hardly commendable, we applaud his use of proper English. Could this be because the little tyke is too young to go to school?