You vowed repeatedly you would never waste your time with the uppity nuptials across the pond. In good conscience, how could you? All gussied up, the aristocracy posed before the cameras, accentuating their privileged station and the unapproachable abyss between them and commoners worldwide. While millions wallow in misery across vast continents, while terrorism kills and maims and while tyranny reigns, the blue bloods spent millions to strut their stuff and flap their genteel gums. Now, in hindsight, you must concede that hearing the beauty of true English was worth the price of your time. And you mourn the loss of that nimble, engaging language. Some people will say language doesn’t matter. Over time, all languages deviate and mutate. Only a stick in the mud would quibble over grammar. Different generations and different cultures communicate in different ways. Leave it at that and get a life. You know it’s a lost cause, even in the Mother Country beyond palace halls. But, whether you stomach it or not, you also know that the death of a faithful and impeccable language is the clearest signal of decline and decay in every nook and cranny of any ascending culture. And as you listened to Bishop of London Richard Chartres’ eloquent address at Westminster Abbey, you had to be reminded of another speech by one Professor Henry Higgins. He said to Eliza Doolittle: “But think what you’re trying to accomplish. Just think what you’re dealing with. The majesty and grandeur of the English language; it’s the greatest possession we have. The noblest thoughts that ever flowed through the hearts of men are contained in its extraordinary, imaginative and musical mixtures of sounds. And that’s what you’ve set yourself out to conquer, Eliza. And conquer it you will.” So much for fiction. The reality is what you read in newspapers and see on TV, aptly named the “Boob Tube.” There, day after day, so-called communication professionals – political pundits, network announcers, celebrities, advertisers, attorneys, teachers, parents and, God help us, sportscasters – relentlessly rape the English language – indoctrinating generations of young minds to follow in their feckless, lazy footsteps. Multimillionaire Cam Newton says to former coach Jon Gruden: “I can’t tell you how many times we’ve did this play.” Opining about Bin Laden, the perky blonde attorney Margaret Hoover tells Bill O’Reilly: “. . . by him dying . . . etc. etc.” The Mouth of Nascar Darrell Waltrip said: “When I think about he and other drivers . . . I certainly can’t imagine me doing that . . .” So, we get the drift. Who gives a royal rip? Maybe the tiniest of minorities. Those who know you don’t do anything good – only well. Those who know it’s “by his dying.” Those who know it’s “when I think about him and other drivers, I can’t imagine my doing that.” Those who know what’s really scary — that basic mistakes in the English language are made out of ignorance, not premeditation. If teachers don’t know any better, why should students, and one day, their children? Then you begin to understand why standards disappear, how culture disintegrates and multiculturalism takes its place.  Thankfully, the English language is still spoken – correctly, lyrically, beautifully and proudly — at weddings in places like Westminster Abbey.  In America, however, we worship lower standards, a corrupted public education system, sheer ignorance and the rap generation. The dirty work is done. RIP.