Ah, the infamous “BUT“! The semiologist in me would have a field day with this little word. It’s like the ultimate plot twist in a sentence—an entire world of contradiction wrapped in just three letters. It’s the “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” of conjunctions: on one hand, it tries to introduce a new idea, and on the other, it erases everything said before, as if it were all just a warm-up.
As a historian, I’d argue it’s the “philosopher’s stone” of language. A single “BUT” has the power to change history—like when someone says, “I’m not sexist, BUT women just aren’t good at math.” And then—BAM!—history is rewritten in a very particular shade of awkward.
The comedy gold lies in the absurdity of it all. It’s a linguistic loophole, designed to create just enough space for a “disclaimer” while conveniently ignoring any of its consequences. Call it the punctuation equivalent of “I have a friend who…” or “No offense, but…”—it sets you up for everything that follows, no matter how absurd!
