MOULTRIE, Ga. —

Do you recall in the movie “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” how the two outlaws were being chased across the West by a  very persistent detective named Joe Lefors? And do you recall how Butch and Sundance kept asking, “Who are those guys?”

Well after writing my previous column about rules on writing and some of them not being good rules, I basically asked a similar question — who were those guys who decided on these rules. When and how often do they meet?

Lo and behold I got suggestions from several readers about how rules regarding the usage of some words came to be. But they were all over the map, sort of like Butch and Sundance.

Now I continue my quest for answers, but in the end I do it the way I want to  anyway but maintaining a basic desire to communicate effectively.

We live in a world of “they say.”  “They” are a mysterious bunch. We don’t really know who “they” are. We don’t know if “they” are Democrat or Republican, or if they are Baptist or Methodist. We don’t know if “they” celebrate Christmas or if “they” prefer mayonnaise or peanut butter on a banana sandwich. “They” are rather amorphous, it seems. “They” can’t be penned down on a question, sued for libel nor photographed. I wonder sometimes if “they” are elements of the paranormal.

I wonder what was going on the day “they” decided that white should not be worn after Labor day. Now I’m pretty sure “they” didn’t have to rule on whether to wear a  jock strap inside or outside of the uniform, but why give thought to the “proper attire” on either side of Labor Day? And would this apply to Eskimos as well?

Along that same line of thinking, who really cares which side of the plate a knife and fork are placed? Their placements don’t affect functionality one iota. And why should a salad fork be differentiated from a steak fork?

When I was a kid, there was a rule that one should not eat fish and drink milk together. “They” said it was dangerous. Then one day “they” said it was okay. I was safe either way, being a bit lactose intolerant.

I’ve often had in my mind that “they” are a secret enclave — sort of a modified Star Chamber that meets in the dead of night around a big mahogany table. “They” decide on proper and improper stuff. However, I’ve yet to see them hand down a ruling on how far away from the checkout counter one should be before he uses his toothpick.

“They” apparently decide on how much tip to leave at a restaurant, a number that gets factored with inflation so they must meet regularly.

You can’t debate “they.” It would seem that “they” are sworn to secrecy when it comes to their identity. I’m not even sure how “they” get the word out once they have decided something or if “they” consider themselves a non-profit organization.

“They” have no legal power. It’s not like “they” can put anyone on double-secret probation or sentence someone to spend a week with his mother-in-law if he puts his elbows on the table during dinner.

And there’s another silly rule. “They” say to eat with one hand in your lap, but you have utensils on both sides of the plate.

So be it. My curiosity has about run its course. But back to the aforementioned comment on the paranormal. I still wonder why there are no haunted double-wides. Ghosts must have a set of standards. Go figure!

(Dwain Walden is editor/publisher of The Moultrie Observer, 985-4545. Email: dwain.walden@gaflnews.com)