The entry title is a play on Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore. Yesterday, I saw anymore spelled "nemore". I pictured someone wracking his brain to remember how the word was spelled, and failing. It's also possible the person never cared to learn correct spelling. The clunky "nemore" saves one vowel, but the time it takes to decipher wastes that savings.
I thought finally of how much I love and respect language. To see it misused out of ignorance or for a fleeting show of personality pains me. I know the feeling of understanding a message immediately. I want to be understood immediately in turn, so I learn to express myself in as many different languages and connotations as I can.
It's common to say we must make language our own, but I'd only feel a language were mine if I made it up. I didn't make up English, French, Russian...
I don't own language; I borrow it, use it wisely, and return it in great condition.