The heads and stories referred to the person whose complaint led to criminal charges as an “alleged victim.” I’ve seen this on local stories and on national ones.

I know what’s going on here. If there is a burglary, you can see there’s been a break-in and something is missing. If there is a killing, you have a body. If there is an assault, somebody has a fat lip. The evidence is obvious that there has been a crime, and the only big question is about the identity of the wrongdoer.

With rape, the evidence may be open to interpretation. Defendants often say that they engaged in sex, but that the act was consensual. Or physical evidence of rape may be lacking, for whatever reason. The point is, when the issue at hand is rape, it may not be as easy to say that a crime occurred, and ergo there was a victim.

So, some journalist, trying to be objective and not take sides, sticks that word “alleged” in front of another word, such as “victim,” “rape,” and “sexual assault.” The journalist thinks that such a cumbersome construction is being fair to the defendant.

Egad. Am I the only one who sees that this is wrong? Calling someone an “alleged victim” metacommunicates the element of doubt. It’s as if the writer is winking at the reader — “She says she’s a victim, but we know better.” I mean, after all, would you get bypass surgery from an alleged doctor? Trust your financial future to an alleged financial adviser? I think not.

Fortunately, there is a better way. I suggest a new phrase or two to use in criminal cases where there is doubt about whether a crime has occurred. Let’s refer to the “accuser” in a rape trial. That word is not open to debate. Or, use the longer phrase, “the person who filed the complaint,” or “the woman who called police,” or some such. That does not cast the same shadow of doubt.

Conversely, I don’t believe that journalists should automatically refer to people who raise rape accusations as victims. True, rape is such a terrible crime, with terrible psychic consequences, that people seldom lie when they have been raped. It takes a great deal of intestinal fortitude to come forward, make the complaint, talk to detectives and prosecutors, testify, and see the rapist go to jail. People just don’t put themselves through that ordeal on a whim. . . .

. . . Except for those rare occasions when they do. The FBI says that in the late 1990s, about 8 percent of rape allegations were “unfounded,” a term that embraces not only false reports, but also instances in which elements of the crime were not met. (In other words, that 8 percent includes some rapes that could not be proved to have been rapes, leaving the number of false reports even smaller.)

I can think of a famous example. Dallas Cowboys players Michael Irvin and Erik Williams were victimized by a woman who cried rape in 1996 and then admitted she had lied.

Still to be adjudicated is the case of Pittsburgh Steelers quarterback Ben Roethlisberger. A woman filed a civil suit in summer 2009 that said Roethlisberger had raped her a year before in a Reno hotel. Officials in Reno declined to pursue a criminal case. After the woman sued the quarterback, he sued her back, saying she made false accusations. It’s a mess that the courts will sort out.

Meanwhile, let’s have our news pages refer to both the woman and the quarterback as “accusers,” or something else that doesn’t wink at the reader.

The story says writers post two versions of headlines on the same story. Some readers get one; some get the other. Within five minutes — an eternity in Web journalism — each headline gets enough hits to see which one triggers the most hits.

After five minutes, “the version with the most clicks becomes the wood that everyone sees,” the Huffington Post says.

This is an important breakthrough in connecting editors with their audiences. Every journalist’s first question when writing or editing a story should be, “Who is my audience?” Right after that, the journalist should ask, “What does my audience need to know, and want to know?” When the journalist gets the right answers, the paper draws plenty of readers.

Traditional newspapers could meausure their resonance with audiences through daily newsrack sales. When one edition sold a huge amount, the editors could ask what it was about the paper’s top-of-the-fold display that caused passers-by to drop a quarter in the slot. This was a klunky, slow form of feedback that took days to analyze and adjust, but it sort of worked.

With the Web version of what social scientsts call “A/B testing” using random groups of readers, the Huffington Post gets the kind of instant feedback that allows editors to improve stories. In other words, each story changes in response to readers’ reactions to it — and those changes are implemented quickly enough to significantly expand the number of readers before the news gets stale.

The method seems to be a form of Darwin’s survival of the fittest. Headlines compete in a hostile environment, and the ones best adapted to their surroundings — their audience — survive. They educate editors about the kinds of headlines that attract future audiences, and the editors get better and better over time at learning from their weaknesses.

I am all for this with one important caveat.

Journalism is more than mere marketing (although marketing is important). Editors who buy into the Huffington Post’s methods must remember that they must not sacrifice a single particle of accuracy in response to popularity. There may be pressure to “tart up” a headline in order to draw readers. However, if such window dressing goes too far — if it stretches the truth, unfairly slants the news, or otherwised distorts information for the sake of readership — the editors should back away. Truth and accuracy trump whatever sex and sizzle draws eyeballs.

With that in mind, I salute the Post for its ingenuity and recommend its methods to other Web journalists.

For a quarter-opening exercise in my JOUR 441 class, I asked each student to bring two short magazine clippings to share with the rest of class. One was to be an example of an engaging, non-inverted pyramid lead. The other was to be a bit of concrete (as opposed to abstract), “show, don’t tell,” detail.

Some of the clips shared with the class contained words that I, being an old fart (I’m 50), don’t feel comfortable saying in a classroom. For the sake of enlightment without creating discomfort, I will refer to them as the “N-word,” and the “F-word.” Nobody squirmed, even when one student read the latter of the two words aloud. Granted, the words seemed appropriate in context, given the subject matter, the identity of who was being quoted in print, and the target audience of the magazines. I recognize that in certain circumstances, writers and editors may feel there are valid journalistic reasons for using such words.

A third student shared a clip about an ancient Anglo-Saxon term, which the headline refered to as the “C-word,” which is now appearing to bridge the moat that has kept it out of the news media forever. The student clipped an article from Newsweek that said the Guardian newspaper, a liberal journal in England, reported that the host of the BBC show “Top Gear” used the “c-word” in a non-broadcast yet widely heard comment about the prime minister, Gordon Brown. The Guardian spelled out the word, which the Newsweek writer cleverly suggested rhymed with “punt.” Surprisingly, at least to me, only 17 of the paper’s hundreds of thousands of readers complained.

I began thinking about this in detail this week because of the rash of stories in the news media about the rise of incivility. These stories referenced Joe Wilson’s “You lie!” insult to President Obama, Serena Williams’ profanity-laced outburst over being called for a foot-fault during a crucial point, and Kanye West’s boorish behavior to Taylor Swift.

One of my conclusions is that people who grew up with the Web, a virtually uncensorable medium, have greater exposure to these words and, over time, less aversion to using them among their peers. Another is that one would naturally expect a sort of evolutionary expansion of freedoms of speech and action over time, regardless of media. In other words, each generation says and does things that expand the envelope, and irritate the generation that came before.

Nevertheless, I believe that journalists must ask themselves some rather traditional questions before deciding whether to publish or broadcast words that are intended to emotionally harm or shock individuals or groups. I see these questions as the following:

1. Who is the audience? Are such words appropriate for virtually everyone who would see or hear them? Journalists should be aware of the sensitivities of their readers because failure to take them into account can result in conflicts, hurt feelings, and ultimately lost revenue. For example, I consider an audience that is likely to include young children an inappropriate place to use slurs, vulgarities and so on. Kids will find these terms soon enough, and parents should be the ones to handle the consequences when they do. (And because of the possibility that children much younger than college students may read this blog, I have chosen not to spell out the words in question, above.)

2. What is the context of the communication? Audiences differ from place to place and situation to situation. I say things while watching football, playing poker, and picking up after a doggie accident that I would not say in a classroom.

3. What is the real news value of the person in question saying the word? If a high-ranking elected official, such as the president or vice president, or a widely respected figure of authority, such as the pope, uses a slur, epithet or vulgarity in public comments, I would have no hesitation in publishing it. The journalist who does so is merely making convenient information that audiences could find on their own on Google with a few key strokes.

4. If, however, the comments were not meant for public consumption and were uttered under the assumption of privacy, I would not publish them unless there were an overriding public interest in the news. I’m not particularly bothered by President Obama calling Kanye West a “jackass” in overheard, off-the-record comments that later were republished. It’s pretty obvious to me that West WAS a jackass, which is a relatively mild term compared to some of the other things one could have said. However, I would hesitate to republish much stronger words in a similar situation.

What would be the real news of a president swearing? If you took away all of the swear words Harry Truman used while in the White House, there wouldn’t be much left.

When you want to make a point by providing evidence, three examples are best. Two examples don’t seem satisfying, and four seem like overkill. So, if I were describing the values held dear by the tribe of my Dinka friend, John Dau, as I did when writing at home last night, I might say the Dinka believe in hard work, strong faith, and early education.

Note: those are indeed three qualities, although the Dinka have many more, and they are presented through paralellism. Hard work (adjective, noun), strong faith (adjective, noun), and early education (adjective noun).

If I were to violate parallel syntax, I might stupidly change one of the three to some other construction, perhaps involving a gerund: the Dinka believe in hard work, strong faith, and wrestling. By making the last of the series, wrestling, a different form of noun than those that preceded it, I have broken the natural rhythm that builds throughout the sentence. Readers might feel as if the sentence doesn’t sound right, but not know exactly why.

Today, in my magazine features writing class, after we talked about parallelism and the rule of threes, two students presented clippings that serendipitously illustrated that point. One clipping, about a man imagining his life in an imploded economy, had him trying to envision himself “without a dime, without a home, without a bookmark in society.” A second student shared a clip from a magazine description of the first Mickey Mouse cartoon: “Pegleg charging, music pounding, Minnie squealing — and Mickey rushing madly to the rescue.”

After that, I started seeing narrative elements in threes everywhere. The father, son, and holy ghost. Tinker to Evers to Chance. Peter, Paul, and Mary. Winkin, Blinkin, and Nod. The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. Man, Woman, and Child. The Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Cowardly Lion. The priest, the minister, and the rabbi who go into the bar.

Not to mention Larry, Curly, and Moe.

I could go on (and on, and on).

This got me thinking. Why is it that we seem to be hard wired to cluster things in threes?

I like to think that three adds an engaging level of complexity to any communication. One is single. Two is dual. Three is, quite satisfyingly, the beginning of something much richer.

Three is a beginning, a middle, and an end. Mother and father plus child is family.

In physics, the “three-body problem” means that it very quickly becomes impossible to chart the orbits of three heavenly bodies that interact with one another. Three adds a level of complexity and chaos to our understanding of the complex and chaotic world.

Are these reasons why good writers so often deal with three elements? Who knows. All I can say for sure is that groups of three seem to squeeze, tease, and please the mind. And writers should pay attention to their power.

Headlines that appear in print publications are incredibly hard to write well. They must say something engaging, yet fit the allotted space. It’s no good to have a clever headline that won’t fit the six inches or so of white space above a three-column story on the front page.

It’s different on the Web. Space is theoretically infinite, and nobody cares about fine-tuning the words in rectangles of white space on the screen because browser settings often alter how the type appears on individual computers. True, it’s nice to have a headline that doesn’t wrap onto a second line. But nobody “counts” headlines on the Web to make sure they occupy just the right amount of space.

Headline writers on the Web say what they need to say, and space be damned.

More about that later. First, let me tell you how it was in the old days (when I was paid to write headlines).

I love a cartoon that used to hang in a newsroom artist’s office.

It appears to be vintage 1969, from the summer that gave us the lunar landing. That was the biggest news of the space program and the story with the easiest headline to write.

The drawing shows a man reading an open paper. The headline type on the front page is as big as his head.

“MAN ON” it screams. Then, smaller, “See moon on Page 2.”

I call this it journalistic eclipse.

It is a paradox of headlines that the biggest news forces the headline writer to use the smallest number of words.

This challenge makes traditional headline writing an underappreciated art.

You can tell a lot about a publication by its headlines. They can be outrageous or boring, stick to the facts or stretch them.

A British tabloid, for example, once ran a story about Queen Elizabeth dining in Belize, an English-speaking country in Central America.

Apparently one of the dishes was a native rodent.

The tab’s head? “Queen eats a rat.”

The great, gray East Coast papers, given the same story today, probably would come up with something like “Queen has unusual dinner, is surprised at what it is.”

Maybe not that, exactly, but you get the idea.

These examples reflect two philosophies about what headlines should do. I call them “circus barkers” and “window shoppers.”

In the former, headlines are intended to tease or draw the reader into the story, much like a barker who says you’ve just got to see the dancing girls inside the tent. These headlines don’t say as much, but they say it with style.

In the latter, headlines are a way for readers skimming through a publication to find out in a hurry what’s going on, much as pedestrians on downtown streets can look at the window displays to see what’s for sale. They don’t have to dig through what’s inside to know what’s there.

Most traditional papers will mix these kinds of headlines to match the tone of their stories. Serious stories require serious headlines, and any miscasting of the tone of the head tends to jar. Headlines fall flat when they try to be cute on stories that aren’t.

Besides the tone, headlines must navigate through a lot of potential problems. Errors in spelling, fact and grammar cast doubt on a publication’s intelligence.

Headlines that say more than stories, such as heads reporting a fact that can’t be confirmed, mislead the reader. And headlines that can be read two ways sometimes are unintentionally funny. I tell beginners that they shouldn’t write headlines with the idea of being understood; they should write to avoid being misunderstood.

This brings me back to Web headlines. Many online readers get directed to news stories on the Web by search engines such as Google and Yahoo. Typically, the search algorithms in these engines seek key words in the lead paragraph, headline, and meta-tags. Thus, headline writers for online stories are well-served by loading their headlines and lead paragraphs with as many keyword-searchable terms as possible. Full names work best in headlines because people search for “Michael Jackson” instead of Michael, or Jackson, independently. They don’t search for clever, circus-barker words, such as the kind that work well with photos, deck heads, and the context provided by a full, printed newspaper page. The headline “Bastards!” on the front page of the San Francisco Examiner on the day after the 9-11 attacks would rank pretty low on the “search engine optimization” scales that promote readership online. But remember, that kind of headline is something of an anomaly on the Web.

Is the change from traditional headlines to Web headlines a good thing or a bad thing? I suppose the answer is in the eye of the beholder. As an old green eyeshade who used to sweat making headlines fit on deadline at 12:55 a.m. in the backshop, all I can say is, it’s easier to write headlines today that it used to be. I feel a twinge of nostalgia, and a bit of regret, at the loss of an art form.

INSTRUCTIONS: Find the errors. Each sentence contains zero, one or two errors addressed by the AP Stylebook. If the sentence is correct as written and this were an actual test, you would not change it. (Leaving it correct as written would give you full credit for that sentence.) Do not delete information unless it is redundant.

1. He ate 15 doughnuts at the fair.

2. Rev. Frank Robbins, 55, served as a chaplain in the U.S. army.

3. The living room is nine feet wide and seventeen feet long.

4. She met the pope on a sunny day in Rome.

5. Lieutenant Colonel Frank Burns told the general that nothing was wrong at the hospital.

6. Robert J. Carey Jr. is Mayor of College Park, Md.

7. Members of the Missouri legislature refused to stand for Governor Kit Bond.

8. You can write to me at 400 W. 7th St.

9. I grew up in the North, and I like cold weather.

10. Her favorite song is “Rock Me On The Water.”

11. At 10 A.M. this morning, Vice President Joe Biden canceled the meeting.

12. “A bottle of Dr. Pepper, two coca-colas and a beer to go,” he said.

13. Our home was totally destroyed by Hurricane Andrew.

14. Dec. 25th, 1941, was a day he remembered vividly.

15. My son likes Dr. Seuss’s books.

16. The Gospel of St. Luke is my favorite part of the bible.

17. The seven-year-old victim had gone camping with her family in Utah.

18. Attorney General Janet Reno said the suspects have been charged.

19. The Scotch are great people, and I like to drink their Scotch.

20. After he made a xerox of the test, he put a copy in the mailbox.

21. Cody, Wyo., is named for William (Buffalo Bill) Cody.

22. Episcopalians in Flatbush will question their rector this weekend.

23. I have a 4th-grader and a 6th-grader at East Elementary School.

24. Capital Hill is east of the Lincoln Memorial.

25. The killer used a forty-five caliber handgun.

26. “Let’s walk further into the woods,” the hunter told his companion.

27. I plan to visit the Prince of Wales on July 3.

28. Much of the fleet sank near the Marshal Islands.

29. The Dallas and Fort Worth City Councils passed resolutions to expand the airport.

30. The co-owner of the lounge asked the unruly patrons to cooperate.

1. He ate 15 doughnuts at the fair. (OK as written)

2. The Rev. Frank Robbins, 55, served as a chaplain in the U.S. Army. (See and “Rev.” and “army”)

3. The living room is 9 feet wide and 17 feet long. (See “dimensions”)

4. She met the pope on a sunny day in Rome. (OK as written)

5. Lt. Col. Frank Burns told the general that nothing was wrong at the hospital. (See “military titles”)

6. Robert J. Carey Jr. is mayor of College Park, Md. (See “titles”)

7. Members of the Missouri Legislature refused to stand for Gov. Kit Bond. (See “legislature” and “governor”)

8. You can write to me at 400 W. Seventh St. (See “addresses”)

9. I grew up in the North, and I like cold weather. (OK as written)

10. Her favorite song is “Rock Me on the Water.” (See “composition titles”)

11. At 10 this morning (or, “At 10 a.m. today,), Vice President Joe Biden canceled the meeting. (See “a.m.”)

12. “A bottle of Dr Pepper, two Coca-Colas and a beer to go,” he said. (See “Dr Pepper” and “Coca-Cola”)

13. Our home was destroyed by Hurricane Andrew. (See “demolish, destroy”)

14. Dec. 25, 1941, was a day he remembered vividly. (See “dates” or “months”)

15. My son likes Dr. Seuss’ books. (See “possessives” — subheading “singular proper names ending in S”)

16. The Gospel of St. Luke is my favorite part of the Bible. (See “Bible”)

17. The 7-year-old victim had gone camping with her family in Utah. (See “ages”)

18. Attorney General Janet Reno said the suspects have been charged. (OK as written)

19. The Scots are great people, and I like to drink their scotch. (See “Scot” and “Scotch whisky”)

20. After he made a photocopy (or “a Xerox”) of the test, he put a copy in the mailbox. (See “Xerox”)

21. Cody, Wyo., is named for William “Buffalo Bill” Cody. (See “nicknames”)

22. Episcopalians in Flatbush will question their rector this weekend. (OK as written)

23. I have a fourth-grader and a sixth-grader at East Elementary School. (See “grade, grader”)

24. Capitol Hill is east of the Lincoln Memorial. (See “capitol”)

25. The killer used a .45-caliber handgun. (See “weapons,” subheading “caliber”)

26. “Let’s walk farther into the woods,” the hunter told his companion. (See “farther, further”)

27. I plan to visit the Prince of Wales on July 3. (OK as written)

28. Much of the fleet sank near the Marshall Islands. (See “marshal . . . Marshall”)

29. The Dallas and Fort Worth city councils passed resolutions to expand the airport. (See “city council”)

30. The co-owner of the lounge asked the unruly patrons to cooperate. (OK as written)

As you read the AP Stylebook, pay extra attention to these entries:

• a, an — You use the article “an” in front of words that sound as if they begin with a vowel, regardless of how they are spelled. So, you would say it is an honor to be here today. (Hear the flat-a sound that begins the word? It sounds as if it should be spelled AWN-or.) Or, if you already know this rule, you could say this is a useless exercise. (Hear the “y” sound in “useless?”)

• academic degrees — Put an apostrophe in bachelor’s degree and master’s degree. This is to show possession. The degree belongs to the bachelor or master (that’s you). Even when shortened to bachelor’s and master’s (no “degree” afterward), you keep the apostrophe.

• addresses — Abbreviate the words street, avenue and boulevard (think S-A-B), but only if they appear after a numbered address. Also abbreviate compass directions, but only if they appear with a numbered address. So, you’d write 50 S. Court St., but if you leave off the house number, you’d write South Court Street. Got it? Never abbreviate drive, highway, place, or any of the other words that might follow an actual street name such as Court, Union, Ventura, Lombard, Pennsylvania or whatever.

• affect, effect — Ninety-nine times out of 100, if the word you use is a verb, spell it with an “a,” and if it is a noun, spell it with an “e.” In these two usages, affect means to influence and effect means the result of an action — and those are by far the most common uses. Examples? Student: How will this affect (try substituting the word “influence”) my grade? Teacher: I don’t know what the effect (try substituting the word “result”) will be.

• a.m., p.m. — Recognize that 8 p.m. tonight is redundant. So, write 8 tonight, or 8 p.m. today.

• Anglican Communion — This is the first church in the AP Stylebook. Read every church entry carefully. Each religion has its own lexicon, and if you screw it up you make enemies.

• Bible — Capitalize when you mean the black book in American hotel rooms everywhere. Lowercase when you use the term as slang for an authoritative source. Example: Elements of Style is my bible.

• burglary, larceny, robbery, theft — Ooooo, tricky. There is a difference between a burglar and a robber, and you have to know it. Your stylebook gives you a definition of these terms, so let me give you examples of how to use them, all taken from the same scenario. 1. Larceny: If I leave my B-52 CD’s on the floor outside my office door and you take them — without breaking into my office and without threatening me, then you have committed larceny, also known as simple theft, and you are a thief. 2. Burglary: If you break into my office (or even pass through the unlocked door without my permission) and take the B-52 CD’s off my desk, but did not threaten me, you are a burglar. 3. Robbery: If you see me carrying my B-52 CD’s and are overcome by an uncontrollable urge to possess them (hey, I wouldn’t blame you), and you demand them from me and make a real or implied threat, you are a robber. 4. Sometimes you see the phrase “aggravated robbery” in newspapers. The term means that the robber not only made a threat but also displayed a weapon, such as a gun or knife. This person is still called a robber.

• Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints — There are two “t’s” in Latter. Note the hyphen and the lower-case “d.”

• City Council — Capitalize when referring to a specific City Council, even if the name of the town is not given. Mayor Doug Thompson will ask the City Council to spend more on patrolling near campus.

• co- — Sometimes it’s followed by a hyphen, and sometimes it’s not. When the prefix is part of a word indicating occupation, hyphenate, as in co-worker, co-owner. There are no hyphens when the letter “o” is doubled, as is cooperate and coordinate.

• collective nouns — In the United States, nouns such as team, Congress, committee and group take singular verbs, such as “is.” These collective nouns also take the pronoun “it” instead of “they.” So, if you’re confused about whether a word such as “team” is an “it” or a “they,” try making up a sentence using the word followed by “is” or “are.” You wouldn’t say “The team are playing well.” Try this, instead: “The team is playing well. It may win this game.” That’s correct.

• composition titles — I don’t care whether you italicize or put quotation marks around composition titles. What I want you to notice is which words in the titles of books, plays, movies and TV programs are capitalized, and which are not. AP’s rule is this: Capitalize the first word of any title. Capitalize all words that are four letters are longer. Do not capitalize the articles “a,” “an” and “the.” Do not capitalize conjunctions or prepositions, unless they are four letters or longer. Examples: The Elements of Style; Gone With the Wind (“with” is a preposition, but it is capitalized because of the four-letter rule). So, what do you capitalize? The first word, any word four letters or longer, and all nouns, verbs, adverbs, adjectives and pronouns.

• days or dates? — Not apparent in the AP stylebook, but it ought to be. The common rule for publications is to use the days of the week — Monday, Tuesday, etc. — when referring to events within seven days, before or after the publication date. When writing about events more distant, use months and dates, such as “April 30” and “June 5.” Do not use both. Do not use yesterday, today and tomorrow — if a story were delayed before publication, the time elements would be wrong.

• dimensions — Use figures for all numbers that indicate height, weight, width, etc., even for numbers less than 10. Example: The book weighs 2 pounds.

• directions and regions — Capitalize words such as North and South if they refer to places you can stand and say, “I am standing in the ———-.” That means they are nouns referring to regions, and AP says capitalize them as such. When referring to compass directions, such as “I am walking north,” then lower case them.

• essential clauses, essential phrases — If you use the word “which” to introduce a phrase or clause, precede it with a comma. Do not precede the word “that” by a comma. Use “which” to introduce non-essential phrases and clauses, which can be eliminated from a sentence without changing its essential meaning (such as in this sentence). See? If you drop the clause “which can be eliminated, etc.,” then the remaining sentence still has the same meaning — Use “which” to introduce non-essential phrases and clauses. Use “that” when you want to use a phrase or clause that cannot be removed from a sentence without changing its meaning (such as in this sentence). If you eliminate the essential clause from that sentence, you are left with “Use ‘that’ when you want to use a phrase a clause.” That gives a clearly different meaning than the original sentence, because you know by now that you want to start some phrases and clauses with “which,” and thus the sentence is illogical. If this causes you problems, let’s talk.

• fewer, less — Use fewer for things that you can count. Example: I have fewer quarters than you do. (You can count, “One quarter, two quarters, three quarters.”) Use less for things you cannot count. Example: I have less cash than you do. (You don’t say, “One cash, two cash, three cash.”)

• governmental bodies — Read this entry carefully to determine when to capitalize names of agencies and departments.

• highway designations — These bedevil many journalists, but they’re easy. Capitalize U.S. Highway 89, or even U.S. 89. Capitalize Utah Highway 33, but notice that you lowercase the “s” in state Highway 33.

• Inc. — Do not precede it with a comma

• Islam — Read not only every entry for Christian churches, but also the entries for other religions. That way, you’ll avoid a mistake made by an Ohio paper when it ran a column referring to Muslims worshiping “their God.” Muslims, Jews and Christians worship the same God.

• it’s, its — “It’s” is a contraction that means it is, or it has. “Its” means “belonging to it.” Whenever you must choose one or another in a sentence, try inserting the phrase “it is” or “it has.” If one of those pairs makes sense, then use it’s. I use funny word associations to remember things like this. Technically, they are called mnemonic devices (as in the movie, Johnny Mnemonic). When I see the word “it’s,” I tell myself “the apostrophe means ‘to be.’”)

• Jewish congregations — Jews have temples and synagogues, not churches. Jewish rabbi is redundant. Jewish synagogue is redundant.

• lay, lie — Not as tricky as it might seem. The way I remember the difference is that “lay,” in the present tense, requires an object; in other words (pardon me) you can only “lay” something. The word “lie” in the present tense means recline on a horizontal plane. Examples in the present tense: I lay the book on the table. Now it lies there. In the past tense, lay becomes laid, and lie becomes lay. Examples: I laid the book on the table yesterday. It lay there for several hours before my brother picked it up.

• local — A word you almost never need. “He was taken to a local hospital” is silly. Just say “He was taken to a hospital.” Better yet, name the hospital. Similarly, change local schools to Cache Valley schools, or schools in Cache County, or some other phrase that is specific. Remember, specific is better than vague.

• majority, plurality — As you know, a majority is at least a tiny bit more than 50 percent. A plurality is the largest percentage of something that is divided at least three ways, and yet is below 50 percent. Example: If Ronald Reagan wins 48 percent of the vote, Jimmy Carter wins 44 percent of the vote, and John Anderson wins 6 percent of the vote, then Reagan has a plurality, not a majority.

• marshal and Marshall — Commonly confused. Double the “L” in a proper name.

• Mass — Capitalize when referring to the celebration of worship in the Roman Catholic Church. This is a common error.

• military titles — Glance at this entry. Realize that most military titles that appear immediately before a person’s name are abbreviated, and all are capitalized. Realize that it will speed your search for the proper abbreviation if you know which branch of the service to look up.

• millions, billions — Try to avoid long numbers with lots of zeroes, as in 7,000,000,000. Instead, say 7 billion. Also remember how to tell the difference between 1 million and 1 billion when you’re looking at such a number. 1 million has seven digits, just as the word “million” has seven letters. 1 billion has 10 digits, which I remember by comparing it to a 10-dollar “bill.” (Hey, it’s a mnenomic device that works for me, OK?)

• months — Never abbreviate months when they do not immediately precede a date. Example: We got married in September last year. However, when the name of a month immediately precedes a date, abbreviate it — but only if the month’s name is six letters or longer. Example: We got married on Aug. 6 last year. But, we were divorced on March 5.

• numerals — This entry, on Page 144, is a common source of confusion. Remember the rule of thumb, “Other Uses,” on Page 146, which says, “For uses not covered by these listings: Spell out whole numbers below 10, use figures for 10 and above. Typical examples: They had three sons and two daughters. They had a fleet of 10 station wagons and two buses.” Now, having mastered the rule of thumb, read the exceptions to the rule on Pages 144-46. And remember, ages and dimensions, already covered in these handouts, are exceptions.

• plurals — Note the unusual rule on Page 164 that when you form the plural of a proper noun that ends in a “y,” you usually add an “s,” as in Kennedys, Grammys, Emmys.

• possessives — The main AP exception to Strunk and White’s Elements of Style involves forming the possessive of a singular proper noun that ends in “s.” AP says merely add an apostrophe. Examples: Otis’ cookies, Amos’ ice cream, Charles’ chips. And here’s a reminder of something I’m sure most of you already know: To make something that is singular into a possessive, add ‘s; to make something plural into a possessive, first make sure it is plural, usually by verifying that it ends in an “s,” and then add an apostrophe. Here’s a nonsense sentence that illustrates the idea: One dog’s bone is worth two dogs’ ears.

• quotations in the news — Do not change words in quotation marks. Those quote marks tell the reader, “This is exactly what was said.” Quote marks always appear outside a period, comma, semicolon and colon. When a full-sentence quotation is introduced or followed by attribution, place a comma between them. Examples: I said, “What the heck is going on?” . . . “It’s the state fair,” he said. One exception to the rule is that quotations that are in the form of a question do not need a question mark and a comma — merely a question mark. Example: “What’s going on?” he asked. [Note the lower case “h” in he.] When using a sentence fragment as a quotation, do not set it off with a comma unless the sentence requires one for proper grammar. Example: He said he felt “sicker than a dead frog[no comma here]” after he drank too much tequila. [Note that the only words he actually said were “sicker than a dead frog.” The rest of the sentence is a paraphrase, not a quotation, and thus does not have quote marks.]

• Satan — He’s uppercase, but devil is not. Neither is satanic. (Ozzy fans, take note.)

• savings and loan association— It is not a bank. You cannot call it a bank.

• Scot, Scots —People from Scotland are NOT “Scotch.” That’s a drink, when lower case.

• second reference — Well-known abbreviations are acceptable on second reference. Thus, Internal Revenue Service can become “the IRS” the second time you refer to it. Avoid using unfamiliar abbreviations. If you are writing about the Left-Handed Dogcatchers Association, do NOT refer to it as LHDA on second reference. Instead, call it “the association” or “the group.” And don’t think that putting parentheses around an odd abbreviation makes it OK to use repeatedly. It still looks funny. Here’s an example of what to avoid: the Left-Handed Dogcatchers Association (LHDA) met last night. The LHDA decided to catch some left-handed dogs.

• state names — Spell out all names of states in sentences unless they are preceded by a city, county or military base name. Then, according to the chart on Page 195, you abbreviate all state names EXCEPT the two states outside the Lower 48 and all continental states that have five or fewer letters in their names. Examples: I lived in Oklahoma. I lived in Tulsa, Okla. I lived in Iowa. I lived in Council Bluffs, Iowa.

• temperature — Use figures unless the temperature is zero. Examples: It’s minus 5 degrees. I hope it warms to 9 or 10.

• titles —Capitalize formal titles immediately before a name, and do not separate the title from the name by a comma. Examples: I saw President Obama. I got to meet Prime Minister Brown. Titles that appear after a name or standing alone are ALMOST NEVER capitalized. If you’re wondering about those exceptions, see AP, “nobility.” Also note that sometimes, a person’s title is set off by commas. In those cases, it is lower case. If you’re wondering when to use a comma between title and name, read the handout on “appositives,” or just listen for the natural pause when you say the sentence aloud. If you pause, use a comma. Examples: The president, (PAUSE) Barack Obama, (PAUSE) ate a burger. President (NO PAUSE) Obama got indigestion.

• United States — AP says it’s now OK to use U.S. in all references.

• vice president — No hyphen.

• weapons —Unfortunately, copy editors need to know something about weapons because they are mentioned in many stories. Know the difference between a revolver and an automatic. Know correct style for a .45-caliber pistol.

• weather term — Recognize that blizzard, cyclone, gale and hurricane have specific meanings.

• years — To indicate a decade, add an “s.” to the first year in the decade. Example: In the 1960s, I did a lot of things I don’t remember. If you abbreviate this, do it this way: In the ’60s, I did a lot of . . . Remember that years are never spelled out. Even at the beginning of a sentence, use a figure: 1968 was a good year.

Under A Guide to Punctuation

comma — Place a comma before and after the following when they appear in the middle of a sentence:

1. A year, if it follows a month and date. Example: I was born on Nov. 6, 1958, in Madison, Wis.

2. A state, if it follows a city or county name. Example, I was born in Madison, Wis., on Nov. 6, 1958.

3. An appositive, which means a word or phrase that says the same thing as a word or phrase next to it. Example: I saw my boss, John McFeely, in the hall. (My boss and John McFeely are identical.) However do not place a comma after a title that precedes a name. Example: Executive Editor John McFeely died today.

Spelling:

1. accommodate (two c’s, two m’s)

2. adviser (AP likes an “e” in it)

3. afterward (no “s” at the end)

4. all ready (everyone is prepared; all are ready) and already (completed action)

5. altar (table in church) and alter (modify)

6. amid (has no “st” at the end)

7. among (has no “st” at the end)

8. busing (transporting by bus) and bussing (osculating, i.e, kissing)

9. calendar

10. canceled, cancellation (these are AP’s preferences)

11. Caribbean

12. cemetery (the vowels are “e’s”)

13. embarrass (two “r’s” and two “s’s”)

14. harass (only one “r.” My old boss told me to remember it this way: her ass.)

15. homicide (not homocide)

16. indiscreet (meaning imprudent)

17. indiscrete (meaning separated into parts)

18. judgment (there is no “judge” in judgment)

19. Kmart

20. knowledge

21. livable

22. Marshall, marshal, martial (a person’s name, a military rank, and an adjective meaning military)

23. National Organization for Women (not “of” women)

24. nuclear

25. officeholder (one word)

26. percent

27. principal (meaning primary or major, as in the title of the high-ranking school official)

28. principle (a fundamental law or doctrine)

29. privilege (no “d”)

30. sheriff

31. subpoena (pronounced “suh-PEEN-a”)

32. Vietnam (one word)

Journalism, out of necessity, has grown muddier since the days of Adam and Eve’s children. Newspapers and other media must exercise caution when reporting about one person killing another.

Innocent until proved guilty makes good law, but bad syntax.

More about that later. Here’s what the Book of Genesis has to say about the slaying that started it all:

“And Cain talked with Abel his brother; and it came to pass, when they were in the field, that Cain rose up against Abel his brother, and slew him.

“And the Lord said unto Cain, ‘Where is Abel, thy brother?’

“And he said, ‘I know not: Am I my brother’s keeper?’

“And the Lord said, ‘What hast thou done? The voice of thy brother’s blood crieth unto me from the ground.

“And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother’s blood from thy hand.”

Aside from the redundancies — no good journalist would say so many times that Abel and Cain were brothers — the biblical scribe has set out the facts clearly and cleanly. The writer says right off who the killer was and how the crime was committed. There’s no doubt about it.

But that first journalist had some advantages that we do not.

First of all, the Lord makes a pretty reliable source. In this story, he acts as witness, prosecutor, judge and jury. Of course, there weren’t a lot of people around to help him try that first case.

Secondly, the Bible says Cain, Abel and the first family farmed and raised livestock. Not one of them was a libel lawyer. We are to assume that such folk came to pass judgment in later generations.

Concern about civil law and reporting the truth is reflected in modern journalism.

Professional journalists base their reports on what can be proved. It is obvious, for example, that a slaying has occurred when a body is found with a bullet wound in the back. The identity of the killer is another matter.

The police might arrest the wrong person, the police might have the right person but the wrong name, the slaying might be a justifiable homicide instead of a murder, etc.

News stories therefore separate facts about the victim and the death from the facts about a person being accused of the crime. Being wrong not only is unfair to the suspect — and the reader — but also invites a lawsuit.

Only after a jury has decided that someone is a killer does a reputable journalist identify a person as such. One exception occurs when there is strong evidence of guilt and the person accused of the crime is dead. The dead cannot sue for libel.

Given these rules, here’s how a modern professional journalist would report the first slaying:

“EAST OF EDEN — A farmer known only as Cain has been cursed after his brother, a rancher known only as Abel, was slain, the Lord said today.

“Abel’s body was found in a field where he and Cain were reported to have gone a few moments before. The Lord said the blood of the dead man, still fresh on the ground, bore testimony to the crime.

“The Lord accused Cain of the killing, saying the earth ‘hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother’s blood from thy hand.’

“The Lord is said to have deported Cain from his homeland. Cain could not be reached for comment.”

Now, please don’t go saying that someone like Cain is an “alleged killer.” That awkward piece of syntax surely suggests to most folks who are paying attention that the accused is as good as convicted. (The noun is killer; the adjective is alleged. This construction says so-and-so is a killer, and then describes what kind he or she is. Just like “purple killer.”) Call someone a murder suspect, a slaying suspect, a homicide suspect, etc.

Why be so careful? Sometimes the police get it wrong. I know. I was once accused of stealing a car. I had not done so, but I did look like the guy who did. So, for the sake of my mom, and mothers everywhere, be careful when you write a news story about a crime suspect.