It's a fine issue. One of the undoubted virtues of English is that it is a fluid and
democratic language in which meanings shift and change in response to the
pressures of common usage rather than the dictates of committees. It is a natural
process that has been going on for centuries. To interfere with that process is
arguably both arrogant and futile, since clearly the weight of usage will push
new meanings into currency no matter how many authorities hurl themselves
into the path of change.
But at the same time, it seems to me, there is a case for resisting change—at least
slapdash change. Even the most liberal descriptive would accept that there must
be some conventions of usage.
We must agree to spell cat c-a-t and not e-l-e-p-h-a-n-t, and we must agree that
by that word we mean a small furry quadruped that goes meow and sits
comfortably on one's lap and not a large lumbering beast that grows tusks and is
exceedingly difficult to house-break. In precisely the same way, clarity is
generally better served if we agree to observe a distinction between imply and
infer, forego and forgo, fortuitous and fortunate, uninterested and disinterested,
and many others. As John Ciardi observed, resistance may in the end prove
futile, but at least it tests the changes and makes them prove their worth.
Perhaps for our last words on the subject of usage we should turn to the last
words of the venerable French grammarian Dominique Bon hours, who proved
on his deathbed that a grammarian's work is never done when he turned to those
gathered loyally around him and whispered: "I am about to—or I am going to—
die; either expression is used."