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P.S. If you cannot see this video because of the ‘Error 153’ problem then go to the YouTube website, the URL is
Why are there seven days in a week? – Henry E., age 8, Somerville, Massachusetts
Waiting for the weekend can often seem unbearable, a whole six days between Saturdays. Having seven days in a week has been the case for a very long time, and so people don’t often stop to ask why.
Most of our time reckoning is due to the movements of the planets, Moon and stars. Our day is equal to one full rotation of the Earth around its axis. Our year is a revolution of the Earth around the Sun, which takes 365 and ¼ days, which is why we add an extra day in February every four years, for a leap year.
But the week and the month are a bit trickier. The phases of the Moon do not exactly coincide with the solar calendar. The Moon cycle is 27 days and seven hours long, and there are 13 phases of the Moon in each solar year.
Some of the earliest civilizations observed the cosmos and recorded the movements of planets, the Sun and Moon. The Babylonians, who lived in modern-day Iraq, were astute observers and interpreters of the heavens, and it is largely thanks to them that our weeks are seven days long.
The reason they adopted the number seven was that they observed seven celestial bodies – the Sun, the Moon, Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter and Saturn. So, that number held particular significance to them.
Other civilizations chose other numbers – like the Egyptians, whose week was 10 days long; or the Romans, whose week lasted eight.
The Babylonians divided their lunar months into seven-day weeks, with the final day of the week holding particular religious significance. The 28-day month, or a complete cycle of the Moon, is a bit too large a period of time to manage effectively, and so the Babylonians divided their months into four equal parts of seven.
The number seven is not especially well-suited to coincide with the solar year, or even the months, so it did create a few inconsistencies.
However, the Babylonians were such a dominant culture in the Near East, especially in the sixth and seventh centuries B.C., that this, and many of their other notions of time – such as a 60-minute hour – persisted.
The seven-day week spread throughout the Near East. It was adopted by the Jews, who had been captives of the Babylonians at the height of that civilization’s power. Other cultures in the surrounding areas got on board with the seven-day week, including the Persian empire and the Greeks.
Centuries later, when Alexander the Great began to spread Greek culture throughout the Near East as far as India, the concept of the seven-day week spread as well. Scholars think that perhaps India later introduced the seven-day week to China.
Finally, once the Romans began to conquer the territory influenced by Alexander the Great, they too eventually shifted to the seven-day week. It was Emperor Constantine who decreed that the seven-day week was the official Roman week and made Sunday a public holiday in A.D. 321.
The weekend was not adopted until modern times in the 20th century. Although there have been some recent attempts to change the seven-day week, it has been around for so long that it seems like it is here to stay.
So there we are, the ancient history of the week. Including the fact that the weekend was not adopted until the 20th century. In the 1940’s to be precise.
I will admit that I have never been one for gambling. Perhaps a small bet between friends in my earlier English days. I do not know the cause of my resistance to ‘playing the odds’. My guess is that it is a product of being born in London in 1944 when life was pretty tight. I grew up being careful about my finances.
Thus, having a better obsession is not something that I understand.
However, this article about Brazil, published in The Conversation, was interesting enough to warrant me republishing it.
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The next World Cup won’t be only about passion for soccer. It will also be about betting obsession
For most of soccer’s history, fans all around the world cheered for goals and other skillful moves, but now online betting platforms have broken the game into hundreds of small financial bets, changing what soccer means emotionally for many of its fans. aniloracru/Unlimphotos
In a country where kids play soccer in the streets, the World Cup is one of the rare times when millions across the nation share in the same excitement. But the way many Brazilians experience that excitement has changed for one big reason: Betting.
For most of soccer’s history, fans all around the world cheered for goals, great saves, skillful moves, comebacks, and wins. Now, online betting platforms have broken the game into hundreds of small financial bets. Fans can bet on the final score, but also on yellow and red cards, corners, throw-ins, shots on goal, saves, fouls, and almost every stat the game produces.
This shift changes what soccer means emotionally for many of its fans. For example, someone might cheer for a corner kick against their own team if it helps their bet. They might hope a defender gets a yellow card, even if it’s bad for their side. Some care less about Brazil’s game style and more about how much stoppage time there is for another chance to win a bet.
This isn’t simply about adding more entertainment. It turns passion into a transaction. Soccer’s magic comes from everyone sharing the same hope for a goal. Betting breaks that bond. Now, a foul isn’t just a foul; it’s a chance to win money. A corner kick becomes a way to cash out.
Betting and social costs
This is especially important in Brazil, where online betting is now part of daily life. Fixed-odds betting became legal in 2018, but real rules came much later. Between 2018 and 2024, companies grew quickly in a regulatory gray area, filling soccer, social media, and ads with betting. By the time Brazil’s regulated market started in 2025, betting was already everywhere.
The social costs are clear. Nineteen percent of bettors, about 7.5 million people, said they spent money on gambling in a way that compromised their livelihood income. Forty-one percent gave up other purchases to bet. Seventeen percent skipped paying a bill to gamble. Twenty-nine percent ended up on bad-debt lists because of betting. The average monthly spend was R$ 187 (US$ 37.4), and for lower-income bettors, it was R$ 151.98 (US$ 30.4). For poor families, that money could have been better spent on food, transport, diapers, electricity, or rent.
In Brazil’s favelas, betting is rarely just a pastime, as I observed during two years of fieldwork in communities in the city of Vitória, capital of Espírito Santo state. People see it as hope — a way to stretch a little money when jobs don’t pay enough. One young man told me he started because a coworker told him an app “made money.” He put it simply: “Who doesn’t want to make money these days?”. Another pointed out that people only share their wins, not their losses. Many knew the odds were arranged against them. As one person said, “the ones who really win are the platform owners.”
Soccer betting is also tied to ideas about masculinity. Many young men I spoke with saw sports betting as a way to show their knowledge, control, and skill. Betting on soccer was proof that you understood teams, form, possession, rivalries, and odds. Barbershops and WhatsApp groups became places where men shared tips and advice. One person told me betting was more common among men because it’s about soccer; another said young men “go deeper”, risking more money for bigger wins.
It’s not that women don’t bet; they do. But soccer betting often carries a masculine image: the man as expert, strategist, and provider. When money is tight, betting tells young men they can turn soccer knowledge into cash, and cash into pride. Losing feels shameful, so wins are shown off, and losses are kept quiet. This show of control hides the fact that the platform is really in charge.
Stronger rules and regulations
The 2026 World Cup will make all of this even bigger. There will be daily matches, national pride, celebrity ads, influencer tips, betting links, instant money transfers, and live in-game markets. The tournament will be promoted as a soccer festival. For betting companies, it will also be a chance to profit.
It’s a harsh irony. Brazilians will pin their hopes on the national team, but many will also risk their rent, wages, and emergency funds on bets about cards, fouls, and corners. In this game, the real winners aren’t the fans; they’re the betting platforms.
This doesn’t mean Brazilians should stop loving soccer. It means they need to protect the game from turning into just another way to make money. Simply licensing companies and collecting taxes isn’t enough. Brazil needs strong rules on advertising, real limits on losses and deposits, restrictions on in-game micro-bets that make every foul a bet, and public health campaigns that don’t blame people for a system built to trap them.
The World Cup should remind us why soccer is important. Its beauty isn’t about how many bets you can place. It’s about the impossible goal, the common excitement, the joy of winning together, and the dignity of losing without losing the money you need to live.
I have never been to Brazil but I appreciate it is a very big country. It practically takes over South America (SA). I’m certain that it is the largest country in SA.
I have a follower of this blog who lives in SA and if John reads this post perhaps he will leave a comment. I hope so!
The Emperor’s New Mind: Concerning Computers, Minds and The Laws of Physics
Book by Roger Penrose
Here is a summary of the book that is first, a very deep read, and, second, full of detailed mathematics that were beyond me. I just skipped those parts. However, it is an incredible book and one that has extended my knowledge in so many ways. I think that it isn’t going too far to say that it has amended my knowledge tremendously and I am so glad to have read it, even at the age of 81.
The Emperor’s New Mind (1989) by Roger Penrose argues that human consciousness involves non-computable processes, meaning a computer can never fully replicate the human mind, even if it can simulate its functions. Penrose uses Gödel’s incompleteness theorems and quantum mechanics to support his view, suggesting that consciousness arises from physical processes in the brain that are not algorithmic, and that a deeper understanding of physics, possibly involving quantum gravity, is needed to explain the mind. The book explores the “mind-body problem” and challenges the idea that all thinking is computation, proposing that human understanding can grasp truths that formal systems cannot.
Key arguments and concepts
Gödel’s Incompleteness Theorems: Penrose argues that human mathematicians can see the truth of certain mathematical statements that a formal system (like a computer program) cannot prove, demonstrating a non-computable aspect of human thought.
Non-computability: He posits that certain mental activities, like mathematical insight, are inherently non-algorithmic and cannot be simulated by a computer, even a powerful one.
Quantum mechanics and consciousness: Penrose suggests that consciousness is linked to quantum mechanical processes in the brain, specifically involving microtubules, a theory he later developed further in Shadows of the Mind.
Critique of Strong AI: The book challenges the “strong AI” hypothesis that a sufficiently complex computer can achieve genuine consciousness, arguing that it misunderstands the nature of human understanding.
Reception and legacy
The book won the 1990 Science Book Prize.
It sparked debate and collaboration, notably with Stuart Hameroff, leading to the “orchestrated objective reduction” (Orch OR) theory of consciousness.
It remains a significant work in the philosophy of mind, artificial intelligence, and the physics of consciousness, influencing discussions on the limits of computation and the nature of the mind.
Chances are, you think you do. It’s ubiquitous and iconic. How could you not know it?
But when tested, it turns out very few people can remember all the features of the logo. One study of 85 people found that only about half could pick the correct logo out of a lineup of similar ones. And only one person could correctly draw it.
This isn’t an isolated example. A classic study from 1979 found that people similarly couldn’t draw a penny accurately or pick out a correctly drawn penny from incorrect ones.
People aren’t just bad at remembering things they see all the time, but also in actually knowing how they work. In a 2006 study, many people made significant errors when drawing a bicycle, like putting the chain around the front wheel as well as the back wheel. More than just a forgotten detail, putting the chain around both wheels shows a deeper misunderstanding of how a bicycle works. A bicycle with a chain around both wheels wouldn’t be able to turn.
It turns out people’s knowledge of how the world works is often fragmented and sketchy at best. They systematically overestimate their understanding of everyday devices and natural phenomena. People will tend to give themselves high ratings on how well they understand something, such as how bicycles or zippers work. But when they’re asked to actually explain the mechanics of these objects, their ratings of their understanding typically drop.
Just like how your knowledge of the world around you is imperfect, your knowledge about your own knowledge – also called metaknowledge – is often flawed. My field of cognitive science has been uncovering various gaps in human metaknowledge for decades.
If people are systematically overconfident about how well they understand things, why don’t they notice when they don’t understand something? And what can people do to better recognize the limits of their own knowledge?
Why you think you know more than you do
Researchers have identified several factors behind people’s overconfidence in their knowledge.
One is that people confuse environmental support with understanding: The information is out in the world but not actually in your head. With a bicycle or a zipper, all of the parts are visible to you, and you may confuse this transparency for an internal understanding of how they work. But until you go to use that knowledge by attempting to explain how they work, you may not recognize that you don’t understand how those parts interact.
A second factor is confusing different levels of analysis. People can often describe how something works at a very high level. You know that the engine of a car makes the car go, and the brakes slow and stop the vehicle. But confidence in your high-level understanding of the car may bias you to think you also have a good grasp of the finer details, like how the engine pistons and brake pads work.
Additionally, people can be blind to the ways their knowledge shapes their own perception. In one study, researchers had participants tap out the tune to a popular song. On average, the tappers thought listeners would be able to identify the song about 50% of the time. But when listeners had to identify the tapped song, they actually could identify it only 2.5% of the time. The tappers didn’t realize how much their knowledge was making identifying the song seem easy to them.
This disconnect has consequences beyond whether someone else can understand your Morse code version of a song. When teaching people, whether in formal classroom settings or through casual mentorship, you can sometimes have an expert blind spot: the inability to recognize the difficulties beginners face when learning something you have expertise in.
Building expertise often involves internalizing knowledge to the point where it becomes invisible to you. You draw on knowledge you don’t realize you have, making it hard to relate to learners who lack this knowledge – and, of course, hard for learners to relate to your teaching. You might have experienced this when you’ve gotten partway through explaining something, only to realize you’ve been using jargon you forgot isn’t common knowledge and lost your listener.
How to address metaknowledge failures
Your metaknowledge can fail in two directions: You can think you know more than you do, and you can be blind to how much you’re relying on knowledge you do have. Each calls for a different response to correct it.
When you’re overconfident in your knowledge, the remedy is using that knowledge. You’ll quickly realize how much you actually understand and dial down your confidence. Challenging yourself to actually try to walk through how something works is a great exercise in intellectual humility – that is, recognizing that you may be wrong – and can keep you from getting out over your skis.
Building a greater appreciation for what you know is more difficult. You can’t simply unlearn what you’ve internalized. But what this challenge shows is that, to some extent, knowing a subject and knowing how to teach it are two separate skills. Some experts are great teachers, but not simply by virtue of being experts. Recognizing that you have to approach teaching with humility, and that your expertise doesn’t automatically make you a skilled teacher, can go a long way toward making you a better teacher and mentor.
These aren’t easy and quick fixes to failures of metaknowledge. Both require ongoing intellectual humility and a willingness to distrust your own confidence. But acknowledging the fallibility of your own metaknowledge is a good place to start.
This article is of particular interest for me. Because a few years ago, I had a biking accident at the local Merlin (OR) rail crossing. I banged my head badly and was unconscious for about eight minutes. Later on the surgeon who operated on my head said that I was lucky to be alive but that from here on my memory would be poor.
I work very hard to try and remember the items that I want to. And without my pocket book to write things down, I would be so much more forgetful.
The following essay from George Monbiot is a difficult read but it is also a necessary read.
With the news that the polar ice caps are retreating, just read yesterday: “Polar ice caps and sheets are shrinking at alarming rates due to global warming, with Arctic sea ice decreasing by over 12% per decade and polar ice sheets losing 7,560 billion tonnes of ice between 1992 and 2020. Greenland and Antarctica are losing hundreds of billions of tons of ice annually, significantly contributing to rising sea levels. [1, 2, 3, 4]”
ooOOoo
Alternating Current
Posted on 29th April, 2026
If this crucial circulation system shuts down, the civilisational impacts will be irreversible. So why isn’t it a top priority?
By George Monbiot, published in the Guardian 23rd April 2026
The poor and middle pay taxes, the rich pay accountants, the very rich pay lawyers – and the ultra-rich pay politicians. It’s not an original remark, but it bears repeating until everyone has heard it. The more money billionaires accumulate, the greater their control of the political system – which means they pay less tax, which means they accumulate more, which means their control intensifies.
They reshape the world to suit their demands. One of the symptoms of the pathology known as “billionaire brain” is an inability to see beyond their own short-term gain. They would sack the planet for a few more stones on the pointless mountain of wealth. And we can see it happening. Last week delivered the biggest news of the year so far, perhaps the biggest news of the century. But partly because billionaires own most of the media, most people never heard it. We might find ourselves committed to a civilisation-ending event before we even learn that such a thing is possible.
The news is that the state of a crucial oceanic circulation system has been reassessed by scientists. Some now believe that, as a result of climate breakdown changing the temperature and salinity of seawater, it is more likely than not to collapse. This system – known as the Atlantic meridional overturning circulation (Amoc) – delivers heat from the tropics to the North Atlantic. Recent research suggests that if it shuts down, it could cause both a massive drop in average winter temperatures in northern Europe and drastic changes in the Amazon’s water cycles. This could help tip the rainforest into cascading collapse and trigger further disaster.
Amoc’s shutdown is likely also to cause an acceleration of sea level rise on the east coast of the US, threatening cities. It could also raise Antarctic temperatures by roughly 6C and release a vast pulse of carbon currently stored in the Southern Ocean, accelerating climate catastrophe.
Even when the countervailing effects of generalised global heating are taken into account, a further paper proposes, the net impact in northern Europe would be periods of extreme cold – including events in which temperatures in London fall to -19C, in Edinburgh to -30C and in Oslo to -48C. Sea ice in February would extend as far as Lincolnshire. Our climate would change drastically, with the likelihood of far greater extremes, such as massive winter storms. Rain-fed arable agriculture would become impossible almost everywhere in the UK.
This shift, on any realistic human scale, would be irreversible. Its speed is likely to outrun our ability to adapt. Amoc shutdowns, driven by natural climate variability, have happenedbefore. But not in the era of large-scale human civilisation.
The first paper proposing that Amoc might have an on-state and an off-state was published in 1961. Since then, many studies have confirmed the finding and explored potential triggers and likely implications. Until recently, Amoc collapse caused by human activity fell into the category of a “high impact, low probability” event, devastating if it happens, but unlikely to occur.
Research over the past few years prompted a reassessment: it began to look more like a “high impact, high probability” event. Now, in response to last week’s paper, Prof Stefan Rahmstorf – perhaps the world’s leading authority on the subject – says the chances of a shutdown look like “more than 50%”. We could pass the tipping point, he says, “in the middle of this century”.
So why is this not all over the news? Why is it not the top priority for the governments that claim to protect us from harm? Well, in large part because oligarchic power has championed a model of climate impact that bears little relation to reality: that is, they have a hypothesis about how the world works that is completely detached from scientific findings. This model underpins official responses to the climate crisis.
It began with the work of the economist William Nordhaus, who sought to assess the economic effects of global heating. His modelling suggests that a “socially optimal” level of heating is between 3.5C and 4C. Most climate scientists see a temperature rise of this kind as catastrophic. Even 6C of heating, Nordhaus suggests, would cause a loss of just 8.5% of GDP. Climate science suggests it would look more like curtains for civilisation.
As the eminent economists Nicholas Stern, Joseph Stiglitz and Charlotte Taylor have argued, the mild effects Nordhaus forecasts are merely artefacts of the model he has used. For example, his modelling assumes that catastrophic risks do not exist and that climate impacts rise linearly with temperature. There is no climate model that proposes such a trend. Instead, climate science forecasts nonlinear impacts and greatly escalating risk.
The likely impacts of high levels of heating include the inundation of major cities, the closure of the human climate niche (the conditions that sustain human life) across large parts of the globe, the collapse of the global food system and cascading regime shifts – that is, abrupt transitions in ecosystems – releasing natural carbon stores, potentially leading to a “hothouse Earth” in which very few survive. Never mind a few points off GDP: there would be no means of measurement and scarcely an economy to measure.
Bizarrely, the modelling also applies discount rates to future people: their lives, it assumes, are worth less than ours. In other words, it has taken a method used to calculate returns to capital and applied it to human beings. As the three economists point out, “it is very difficult to find a justification for this in moral philosophy.” Moreover, climate impacts disproportionately affect the poor – but under the models, their lives are also priced down.
Unsurprisingly, models of this kind, Stern, Stiglitz and Taylor note, have been seized on by “special interests” such as the fossil fuel industry to argue for minimal responses to the climate crisis. And it’s not just the oil companies. Bill Gates, who claims to want to protect the living planet, has given $3.5m (£2.6m) to a junktank run by Bjorn Lomborg, who has built his career on promoting Nordhaus’s model, thus helping to downplay the need for climate action. Nordhaus was awarded the Nobel Memorial prize for economics for his pernicious nonsense – and it is deeply embedded in government decision-making.
A billionaire death cult has its fingers around humanity’s throat. It both causes and downplays our existential crisis. The oligarchs are not just a class enemy but, as they have always been, a societal enemy: a few thousand people can destroy civilisations. It’s the billions v the billionaires, and the stakes could not possibly be higher.
Until I came to live in the the USA permanently, in 2010, I used to live in South Devon, near Totnes. Thus the AMOC was very familiar to me and the local population. AMOC stands for Atlantic Meridional Overturning Circulation. Much more information on AMOC may be read on the WikiPedia site.
Although the future of the AMOC is uncertain, many scientists are concerned that the AMOC will weaken.
The above article by George Monbiot is potentially frightening. As Monbiot says at the end; “… a few thousand people can destroy civilisations.“
What we need is a few thousand people to make this the number one priority! Not tomorrow but today!
NASA celebrates Hubble’s 36th anniversary with a new image of the Trifid Nebula, a star-forming region it first captured in 1997. The telescope leveraged almost its full operational lifetime to show us changes in the nebula on human time scales with an improved camera. NASA, ESA, STScI; Image Processing: Joseph DePasquale (STScI)
George Bernard Shaw once remarked that America and Britain are “two countries separated by the same language.”
A long time ago that became a quotable quote. Shaw was born in Dublin in 1856 and died in England in 1950. He was 94.
Although I have visited the USA many times before, I came to live here in Merlin, Oregon, with Jeannie, my gorgeous wife, in 2012. And we love living here.
However, I still think like an Englishman and spell my words in English English.
Read the following. I am sure you will enjoy it.
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Despite all the likes, literallys and dropped g’s, English isn’t decaying before our eyes
While these common gripes point to eccentric speech patterns, they don’t point to grammatical annihilation. English has weathered far worse.
Let’s start with something we can all agree on: Old English, spoken from approximately A.D. 450 to 1100, is pretty unintelligible to us today. Anyone who’s had the pleasure of reading “Beowulf” in high school knows how different English back then used to sound. Word endings did a lot more grammatical work, and verbs followed more complicated patterns. Remnants of those rules fuel lingering debates today, such as when to use “whom” over “who,” and whether the past tense of “sneak” is “snuck” or “sneaked.”
The language went on to experience centuries of tumult: Viking invasions, which introduced Old Norse influence; Anglo-Norman French rule, which shifted the language of the elite to French; and 18th-Century grammarians, who dictated norms with their elocution and grammar guides.
In that time, English has lost almost all of the more complex linguistic trappings it was born with to become the language we know and – at least, sometimes – love today. And as I explain in my new book, “Why We Talk Funny: The Real Story Behind Our Accents,” it was all thanks to the way that language naturally evolves to meet the social needs of its speakers.
From dropping the ‘l’ to dropping the ‘g’
The things we tend to label as “bad” or sloppy English – for instance, the “g” that gets lost from our -ing endings or the deletion of a “t” when we say a word like “innernet” – actually reflect speech habits that are centuries old.
Take, for example, “often.” Originally spoken with the “t,” that pronunciation gradually became less favored around the 15th century, alongside that “l” in “talk” and the “k” in know. Meanwhile, the “s” now stuck on the back of verbs like “does” and “makes” began as a dialectal variant that only became popular in 16th-century London. It gradually replaced “th” whenever third persons were involved, as in “The lady doth protest too much.”
While dropping the “l” in talk may have been initially frowned upon, today it would be strange if you pronounced the letter. And the shift makes sense: It smoothed out some linguistic awkwardness for the sake of efficiency.
If people learned to look at language more like linguists, they might come around to seeing that there is more than one perspective on what good speech consists of.
And yes, that absolutely is a sentence ending with a preposition – something many modern grammar guides discourage, even though the idea only took hold after 18th-century grammarian Robert Lowth intimated it was a less elegant choice based on the model of Latin.
Though Lowth voiced no hard and fast rule against it, many a grammar maven later misconstrued his advice as an admonition. Just like that, a mere suggestion became grammatical law.
The rise of the grammar sticklers
Many of today’s ideas about what constitutes correct English are based on a singular – often mistaken – 19th-century view of the forces that govern our language.
Emulation of upper-crust speech norms became popular among the nouveau riche. With literacy also on the rise, grammarians and elocutionists raced to dictate the terms of “proper” English on and off the page, which led to the rise of usage guides and dictionaries that were eager to sell a certain brand of speech.
Another example of grammarian angst reconfiguring the view of an otherwise perfectly fine form is the droppin’ of the “g.” It became so tied to slovenly speech that it was branded with an apostrophe in the 19th century to make sure no one missed its lackadaisical and nonstandard nature.
Up until the 19th century, however, no one seemed to care whether one pronounced it as “-in” or “-ing.”
In fact, evidence suggests that -ing wasn’t even heard as the correct form. Many elocution guides from the 18th century provide rhyming word pairs like “herring/heron,” “coughing/coffin” and “jerking/jerkin,” which suggest that “-in” may have been the preferred pronunciation of words ending with “-ing.” Even writer and satirist Jonathan Swift – a frequent lobbyist for “proper” English – rhymes “brewing” with “ruin” in his 1731 poem “Verses on the Death of Dr. Swift, D.S.P.D..”
Embrace the change
Language has always shifted and evolved. People often bristle at changes from what they’ve known to what is new. And maybe that’s because this process often begins with speakers that society usually looks less favorably on: the young, the female, the poor, the nonwhite.
But it’s important to remember that being disliked and bad are not the same thing – that today’s speech pariahs are driven by the same linguistic and social needs as the Londoners who started going with “does” instead of “doth” or dropped the “t” in often.
So if you think the speech that comes from your lips is the “correct” version, think again. Thou, like every other English speaker, art literally the product of centuries of linguistic reinvention.
Learning from Dogs 
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