"Also" is a very useful adverb meaning "in addition to", and is often used as a transition into a second sentence which adds a further detail:
We ate bacon and eggs for breakfast this morning. We also had coffee.
But it can't be used as a transition between negative sentences. For that, we have the simple and emphatic conjunction "nor".
The Times Colonist makes this mistake in today's edition:
Ultimately, of course, we don't want to pay any more taxes than we need to, and we don't want to see the government run a string of deficits. We also don't want to lose what the government does for us.
This should read:
Ultimately, of course, we don't want to pay any more taxes than we need to, and we don't want to see the government run a string of deficits. Nor do we want to lose what the government does for us.
Update, March 3, 2012
Even the President of the United States makes this error.
I think that the Israel government recognises that, as President of the United States, I don't bluff. I also don't, as a matter of sound policy, go around advertising exactly what our intentions are (from the Globe).
This is a construction where repetition (of "don't") does not make the statement more emphatic. Consider the impact of the short, sharp "nor":
I think that the Israel government recognises that, as President of the United States, I don't bluff. Nor do I, as a matter of sound policy, go around advertising exactly what our intentions are.
Shakespeare knew best how to use this conjunction.
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest.
Tuesday, 7 February 2012
When I was very, very young, I used to get up in the morning and run to the toilet, or "lav" as we called it, at the top of our yard. It was right next to the back lane, providing easy access for the “night cart” men of an earlier epoch. We had modern plumbing, but not modern toilet paper. Instead we used, not the Eaton’s catalogue, but the West Australian or the Daily News, torn carefully into squares threaded on a piece of string hanging on a hook. I remember how thick and tough the newsprint was. And I hate to think what it did to our sensitive skin!
I was thinking about this as I sat in the loo at one of my favourite coffee shops this morning and encountered toilet paper of the other extreme -- soft and thin, too thin if you know what I mean. I wondered how much thought had been given to the comfort of the customer. This is an indelicate topic, I know, but we do spend from nine to twelve months of our life in a loo.
For the most part, toilet paper in public institutions is thin and cheap. It’s all about saving money, of course, but it’s false economy. The rolls may be cheaper, but how long do they last if you have to fold your paper many times for each wipe?
The cheapest toilet paper I’ve ever used was in a Queensland government school in the nineteen seventies. It was non-absorbent, transparently thin, and you had to pull it off the roll by the yard, tear it unevenly for there were no perforations, and fold it into thirteen layers.
In establishments of quality you may find toilet paper to match. Our friends in France use a product so soft and thick and gentle, that it doesn’t need folding at all. Visiting their facility is a pleasurable, sensory experience.
But there's no need to go to that extreme. All we expect in our facilities is paper of moderate thickness and absorbency, in plentiful supply! Then we'll continue to patronise the establishment. It's not just the coffee!