"I'll master your language. . . and in the meantime, I'll create my own." - Tricky, "Christiansands"
Language is not some chiseled, static, deified god-stick we need to be shaking around at one another. No, it's a living, breathing entity that evolves every hour of every day. (And, oh yes, I totally just said 'EV-er-ree'). Tuh-MAY-toe, tuh-MAH-toe, eh?
For example: If I were to wave my majestic, textular [ --not a word?] god-stick around, mayhap I might just suggest that jewelry is not JOO-la-ree, nor is it JOOL-ree. . . it's JOO-ul-ree. Jewel being her root.
But I won't [ -- colloquial contraction; Data's head just asploded].
It seems we oft forget that communicating is not the most important aspect of communication - interpretation is.
Do I get upset when I hear somebody say "Warshington"? Yes, (even though that pronunciation seems quite ironically appropriate) I do. Missouruh? Yes. Lie-berry?? Yes! I'm a hypocrite... but I digress, that's what my Xanax is for.
My point is, language is a blessed [--that's BLESS-sid] thing. To be embraced in all forms. Even though I admit to having my own linguistic pet-peeves, I do believe that we must cherish our ability to communicate. And that we should put more emphasis on interpreting others than we do on diabolically dictating diction and dialect.