"Fluzation and slurrage" is a Googlewhack.  From Take One magazine, 1968.

To date, the phrase "weary of footnotes" is a Googlewhack  From Dark Shadows episode 299.

If you don't have a firm grip on pronouns, it's likely because you were mistaught.  Take, for example, this terrible sentence in the language textbook City Sidewalks by Bank Street.

Here's what it looks like when your book title is so long that the byline is a parenthetical afterthought.  It's rare to see "wasp-wacking" in a book title, too.  It's the out-of-print King Kid Was Fed Up.  King Kid Was Cross.  King Kid Was Fish-Spitting Mad.  Having To Have a Bath Was Bad Enough, Especially When You Are King, but Having To Wait Was Just Too Wasp-Wacking, Door-Slamming Much.  And Why Was He Mad?  The 5 O'Clock Tour of the Palace Was Still In the Bathroom (by Rozelle Bentheim).

Not only is sentence diagramming rarely taught, but textbooks also no longer mention prune whip.  From The New Building Better English 9, Teacher's Edition, 1955.

From The Adventures of Nancy and Nick in Scrub-Up-Land by Olive Roberts Barton and illustrated by E. R. Higgins, 1921.

The word is "Michiganensian."

Message received: look up the little words, not the big ones.  From The Gates of the Future Thrown Open by Carlotta de Barsy, 1899.

From Junior English in Action.

"Shrdlu, the temperamental turtle" won a speed record of three feet in 59 seconds.  From the University of Omaha's 1954 yearbook.

It's common mistake to begin an acronym with the word itself, simply because that particular word is foremost in one's mind.  Here, the first letters of C.H.A.R.M.S. is "charms."  From The Magic Shop by Maurice Dolbier and illustrated by Fritz Eichenberg.

Remembering that time when I fell through the ice.  From The New Building Better English 9, Teacher's Edition, 1955.

Good name for nightowls: "day dodgers."  From Earlham's 1919 yearbook.

"Unpoker me not till I'm cold."  From The Moon Prince by Richard Kendall Munkittrick, 1893.

From The New Building Better English 9, Teacher's Edition, 1955.

We can't find a dictionary anywhere that hasn't left out at least three colorful meanings of the little-known, quaint old nautical term spitcher.

It's commonly acknowledged that this Maltese derivation from the early 1900s means to be finished or done for, sunk (as in a downed submarine), demolished, permanently lost, damaged beyond repair, gone forever.

But who else will tell you that spitcher is also a piece of tile used in hopscotch?  (Gleanings Revisited: Nostalgic Thoughts Of a Bedfordshire Farmer's Boy by E. W. O'Dell, 1995).

Or that a spitcher is a canal boat's quant pole?  ("I was born on a canal boat, and often tumbled in and had to be fished out by father with the spitcher" [Fire Island: Being the Adventures of Uncertain Naturalists in an Unknown Track by George Manville Fenn, 1894]).

Or that a spitcher is an assassination?  (Louis-Ferdinand Céline, Journey to the End of the Night, 1949).

The Big U says, quoting Tegan Quin:

"You are you because you are you and you were meant to be you so be you proudly."

The Big U is from Wid's Daily, 1919.

We would change only the second word.  "Use EVERY opportunity to talk about the many interesting things about cats."  From Shapes by Mary Tom Riley, 1991.

There's really no other way to say it: "butterflyflutterby and flutterbybutterfly."  From Christmas Every Day by William Dean Howells, 1892.

The moon is here [correctly] called "sleep's mystic amulet."  From Dorothy Frances Blomfield's Gurney's "Moon-Spell," 1913.