I'm just a refugee from the music bizz, an ol' road dawg with 30 years of worn tred, who figured out one day that the keyboard is nothin' but another sax solo. My participles dangle, my infinitives split, and i neber cud spill fer shet, but it's been said I tell a hellova story.
(Actually, they used a euphimism that means about the same thing).
As luck would have it, I ran into Mark Twain one day We've been best of friends ever since. Read: The Twain Shall Meet, by j guevara. It'll put the claim to rest. Or, as Mark put it, "Let not the tounge of idle cavillers dissude."
j guevara (lower case pls)