"A computer is no longer a luxury," an airborne networker tells us over and over again. "It's a necessity."

On the same TV station, the same voice has announced: "We now have a place where you can dump your garbage tomorrow." Is this what we need a computer for? But perhaps our informant will dump his garbage yesterday. Sufficient unto the day is the garbage thereof.

From another TV vendor, we keep hearing about another need we have never felt: "A cellular phone is no longer a luxury. It's a necessity." Just the other day, a speaker followed this commercial with news that a storm across the river had "downded" some trees. Wanna bet some trees near the riverbank were not "drownded" as well? Almost anyone who says "downded" for "downed" takes his cue from the wide use of "drownded" for "drowned." What could be more logical?

Another off-base reporter, likely a kinsman of the two quoted above, declared that a group of golfers "teeded" off with scores unheard-of before. So was this past tense, known by most golfers as "teed." Would a computer or cellular phone straighten out such miscreations?

But on to a request for something more readily resolved by consulting any standard dictionary. One of our devoted callers, aghast at an egomaniac's effort to define "gerrymandering," suggests a need for a more concise definition, now that state legislators are demanding speedy reforms in view of the 1996 elections.

According to American Heritage, Second College Edition, to "gerrymander" is to divide geographic areas into voting districts to give unfair advantage to one political party. The maps we've seen show drawings that no mathematician or alleged artist could ever define or identify, though Missouri's Bootheel is not among the worst. At this writing, southern states are locked in battle over the manipulation of a high-ranking supporter of blacks in -- can you believe this? -- New York State!

Prayer in the schools remains another unsolvable issue the country over. Our Constitution, though a model for the free world, giveth, then taketh away. But of more concern to Bible scholars is the glut of English translations differing in interpretation and word choice. To our sorrow, most efforts have lost the fine-tuning we learned in our childhood. My ear is still attuned to the King James translation of 1611, and I am not alone in wondering why pronouns referring to the Deity are no longer capitalized, and why "shall" has become "will" in most of our church literature.

A little while back, a clergyman, more than a generation younger than I, expressed surprise that there were rules governing this distinction. In my day, I explained, "will" was used to show determination in first person, "shall" in second and third. "Thou shalt," once a command meaning "Listen up and do as the Lord commands!" has long since been reduced to "You will," expressing mere probability. Even readers insensitive to poetic sound must feel the greater force behind "Thou shalt!"

For months after "shall" became "will" in our Apostle's Creed, I whispered "shall" when reciting in unison, being too steeped in correct usage to relent. A friend in whom I confided this habit asked whether I planned to write a backward version of modern translations. She was probably teasing, but my stern reply was No Way! Even so, I heartily welcome questions about changes, and I delight in discussing revisions out of context!

The most doubtful application I encountered this week, however, has nothing to do with translations, but much to do with English as used and misused elsewhere these days. On a weekly talk show, a guest panelist rescinded his belief that our nation's economy was on a downturn.

"My prediction was ill-equipped," he conceded bravely.

What sort of equipment was he thinking of? A computer? A cellular phone? Smith-Corona had just declared bankruptcy.

This news had hit me like a call from Mr. Brink. Sure as God made big guys and fall guys, the demise of the giant typewriter company, my last hope, could in time render me ill-equipped with tools for carving these columns. Come to think of it, even writing paper was becoming scarce!

But a pox on predictions. With a spare Smith-Corona ribbon in a desk drawer and an unopened ream of paper at my feet, "Sufficient unto the day" still conquers fear.

~Aileen Lorberg is a language columnist for the Southeast Missourian.