Moon Dimple, my boyhood pal and current owner of the world-famous Motel 5 (which is one step down from a Motel 6 - they don't leave the lights on for you) & Gas 'N Go just outside of Escanaba, our hometown in the Upper Peninsula, asked me about this Ebonics controversy the other day.        

"You're telling me that that school district out in California is going to get federal money to teach teachers how to understand black street talk?"        

"The term is African-American these days," I replied.  "And, yes, I believe the district is asking for money from a federal bilingual program."        

"Bilingual?  You mean street talk is now a separate language, like French?"        

"It would seem so."        

"Well, ain't that a kick in the pants?" he said.  "So do you think they'll get it?"        

"What, the money?  I don't see why not," I said.  "Remember, this is the same government that once bought $10,000 toilet seats."        

Moon smiled the same smile I remember him smiling whenever the incredible Mary Jo Pellonpaa wore her world-renowned knit halter top to school way back when.        

"All I can say is, God bless America," Moon said.         This was an unusual response.  Moon typically takes a dim view of government in general, government handouts for special interests in particular.        

"Why are you so happy?" I asked suspiciously.        

"Because," he said, beaming.        

"Because why?"        

"Because I'm going to be a rich man."        

"Oh?"        

"Sure, I'm going to get me some of those federal bilingual funds."        

"On what grounds?"        

"Why, on the grounds that we speak a different language up here in the U.P., of course."        

"Different language?  What are you talking about?" I said.        

"You know, Yooponics."        

"Yea, you know, the way Yoopers speak.  We've always had a different way of saying stuff."        

"It's not that different," I protested.        

"Sure it is!" Moon replied.  "For instance, do you think someone from the Lower Peninsula, or anywhere else for that matter, would know what a Yooper is talking about if he said, 'Get your chook, Toivo, and we'll go yank some lakers.'"        

"Probably not."        

"See, but a Yooper knows that means locate your stocking cap, my good friend, and we shall go fishing for lake trout.  Or how about this: 'Holy wuh, da Pack is awesome, eh?'  You think anyone who doesn't live here knows what that means?"        

"I highly doubt it."        

"Right.  But a Yooper knows it means goodness gracious, the Green Bay Packers are a wonderful football team, are they not?  Or how about this:  Gitcher your choppers, we'll shag a Chevy, go Shopko and gitta ice spud.  That's gibberish to most people, right?"        

"It's almost gibberish to me," I said.        

"You've been away too long, my friend.  It means locate your mittens and we shall grab onto the back bumper of a car traveling on any icy road and slide all the way down to the department store to purchase a metal pole used to make a hole in the ice for ice fishing."        

"Ah, yes."       

"See?!  We got us a whole different language up here.  And I figure if the government is going to be handing out money for people who talk Ebonics, there is no way they can turn down people who want money for speaking Yooponics."        

"Holy wuh," I said, "I think you may have a point there, eh?"        

"I know," he replied.  "Holy wuh, eh?"