5.14.2007
Weirdgrrl's Words
Yet another new blog, but this one involves a complete redesign of my business domain. The front page has a navigation menu directing you to the business site, but the majority of it is now devoted to Weirdgrrl's Words, a blog about writing, language and everything related to those topics. There are bound to be some glitches, some links that didn't get updated, etc. but I'll be ironing those out over the next week or so. I've decided that when Limes with Orange actually moves, it will be to a folder rather than the main page. Just because the Words blog is more relevant to the business and seems more appropriate to share the front page with the biz stuff.
Labels: blogging, language, writing
4.02.2007
Babel Poetry
My Dad sent me this experiment recently. He pasted Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" into the BabelFish language tool.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see my stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promise to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
He translated it from English to Japanese and back:
Think of that I have known someone's forest whether these are I.
That house is in the village, but;
He does not look at my stop here where that forest
observes at that it is full with the snow.
As for the horse where I am small
when the forest without the farmer it stops soon
between the lake which freezes,
evening strange that year is darkest must think.
He gives the vibration to the bell of that harness
in order to ask whether or not there is the mistake.
The only other things the extent of the thin layer
the easy wind of sound and like the cotton wool.
The forest is beautiful, is deep darkly,
but before I sleep, I sleep,
and before possessing mile which goes,
as for me the promise which is maintained and mile which goes.
To me, this one actually sounds a bit like my Outside the Box Poet poem that I generated through the Madlib Poem generator. It's strange but I like it. With a little tweaking, it could actually sound like a surrealist poem.
And finally English to Italian to French back to English:
Of which wood those I am I you think that I know.
Its put is in the village, in any event;
It will not see mien stops here
to look at its wood filling in on snow.
My small horse must think it strange to stop
without a firm neighbor
between wood and the lake frozen
the darker evening of the year.
It gives to his flange wiring a jolt
to ask whether it is to us a certain error.
Swept single other sound
of easy wind and rivet washer lanuginoso.
Wood are beautiful, dark and deep,
but I have the promise to maintain
and the miles to go initially that it sleeps
and miles with going initially which sleeps.
I remember reading someone's theory that if you translate from English through a series of certain different languages in a specific order and then back to English, that the "true meaning" will emerge. Well, it sure as heck must not be this order. This one starts to sound like Babel Rap, nonsense. Some interesting phrases emerge, but nothing resembling poetry. Or truth. Curious.
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see my stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound's the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promise to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
He translated it from English to Japanese and back:
Think of that I have known someone's forest whether these are I.
That house is in the village, but;
He does not look at my stop here where that forest
observes at that it is full with the snow.
As for the horse where I am small
when the forest without the farmer it stops soon
between the lake which freezes,
evening strange that year is darkest must think.
He gives the vibration to the bell of that harness
in order to ask whether or not there is the mistake.
The only other things the extent of the thin layer
the easy wind of sound and like the cotton wool.
The forest is beautiful, is deep darkly,
but before I sleep, I sleep,
and before possessing mile which goes,
as for me the promise which is maintained and mile which goes.
To me, this one actually sounds a bit like my Outside the Box Poet poem that I generated through the Madlib Poem generator. It's strange but I like it. With a little tweaking, it could actually sound like a surrealist poem.
And finally English to Italian to French back to English:
Of which wood those I am I you think that I know.
Its put is in the village, in any event;
It will not see mien stops here
to look at its wood filling in on snow.
My small horse must think it strange to stop
without a firm neighbor
between wood and the lake frozen
the darker evening of the year.
It gives to his flange wiring a jolt
to ask whether it is to us a certain error.
Swept single other sound
of easy wind and rivet washer lanuginoso.
Wood are beautiful, dark and deep,
but I have the promise to maintain
and the miles to go initially that it sleeps
and miles with going initially which sleeps.
I remember reading someone's theory that if you translate from English through a series of certain different languages in a specific order and then back to English, that the "true meaning" will emerge. Well, it sure as heck must not be this order. This one starts to sound like Babel Rap, nonsense. Some interesting phrases emerge, but nothing resembling poetry. Or truth. Curious.
3.03.2007
Grammar Snobs
While trying to research whether the Washington Post has done a neologism contest recently (see my 2005 Neologism Contest post), I discovered this site called Mental Floss Magazine: Where Knowledge Junkies Get Their Fix. They have a fairly recent post about neologisms, but they're ones that I've already seen. But I decided to have a browse around their blog and was quite delighted by their eclectic subject matter. I was ready to write a post based on the front page of their blog, "Not with a bang, but with a Winter"... where I would talk about the next wave of nuclear-based post-apocalyptic movies likely to come out of Hollywood based on that information, but decided to see if there was anything else I wanted to write about that was closer to my original subject.
That's when I noticed a post entitled "Weekend Word Wrap: Grammar Snobs Are Great Big Meanies." As someone who has been called not only a Grammar Snob but a Grammar Nazi, I was mentally clapping my hands with glee. It was a "review" of "Grammar Snobs Are Great Big Meanies: A Guide to Language for Fun and Spite," a book that the reviewer hasn't actually read yet but that he was eager to read. And so was I, until I read the reviews on Amazon.com. Now, I never judge a book entirely based on other people's reviews (or its cover... oh, I slay me), but when the bad reviews make more sense than the good reviews... well, it makes a grrl wary.
I have a feeling that I would fall into the author's category of Grammar Snobs. Which is rather laughable; I'm sooo not a Grammar Nazi OR Snob... as anybody who reads my blog can aver. I play fast and loose with the English language all the time, but I like to know the correct way of wording something so I can decide whether or not it suits me to write it the right way at that time. As R. Buckminster Fuller says, "If you know that I know how to say it all correctly (the exact meaning of which I have not yet learned) then I am entitled to say it all incorrectly."
Hmm, I feel like I should file this post under "malevolently well-informed."
That's when I noticed a post entitled "Weekend Word Wrap: Grammar Snobs Are Great Big Meanies." As someone who has been called not only a Grammar Snob but a Grammar Nazi, I was mentally clapping my hands with glee. It was a "review" of "Grammar Snobs Are Great Big Meanies: A Guide to Language for Fun and Spite," a book that the reviewer hasn't actually read yet but that he was eager to read. And so was I, until I read the reviews on Amazon.com. Now, I never judge a book entirely based on other people's reviews (or its cover... oh, I slay me), but when the bad reviews make more sense than the good reviews... well, it makes a grrl wary.
I have a feeling that I would fall into the author's category of Grammar Snobs. Which is rather laughable; I'm sooo not a Grammar Nazi OR Snob... as anybody who reads my blog can aver. I play fast and loose with the English language all the time, but I like to know the correct way of wording something so I can decide whether or not it suits me to write it the right way at that time. As R. Buckminster Fuller says, "If you know that I know how to say it all correctly (the exact meaning of which I have not yet learned) then I am entitled to say it all incorrectly."
Hmm, I feel like I should file this post under "malevolently well-informed."
Labels: books and literature, cool sites, language, writing
1.16.2007
Why Is It So Hard To Remember How To Spell 'Mnemonic'?
I discovered this SAT Vocabulary website that offers innovative ways to remember words. Even though it's obviously intended to help people studying for their SATs, it's also lots of fun for word geeks like me. (And while we're briefly on the subject of memory devices, what mnemonic do kids use these days to remember the planets in our solar system? The mnemonic I always used relied on the inclusion of Pluto. Poor demoted Pluto. But I digress…)
Some of the examples that tickled me:
Abridge
Meaning: To shorten in duration
Looks Like: A bridge
Imagine This: A bridge is built so that transportation from one side to another is shortened in duration.
Dearth
Meaning: Scarcity; lack; rare
Looks Like: D-earth (dead earth)
Imagine This: Scientists have found a new planet, which is very similar to Earth, except it lacks oxygen. Without oxygen, nothing can live. They call it D-Earth meaning Dead Earth.
Munificent
Meaning: Generous
Looks Like: Magnificent
Sounds Like: Money sufficient
Vindicate
Meaning: To clear from blame or suspicion
Sounds Like: Win the case
Imagine This: If you win the case in court, then you will automatically be cleared from blame or suspicion.
Some of the examples that tickled me:
Abridge
Meaning: To shorten in duration
Looks Like: A bridge
Imagine This: A bridge is built so that transportation from one side to another is shortened in duration.
Dearth
Meaning: Scarcity; lack; rare
Looks Like: D-earth (dead earth)
Imagine This: Scientists have found a new planet, which is very similar to Earth, except it lacks oxygen. Without oxygen, nothing can live. They call it D-Earth meaning Dead Earth.
Munificent
Meaning: Generous
Looks Like: Magnificent
Sounds Like: Money sufficient
Vindicate
Meaning: To clear from blame or suspicion
Sounds Like: Win the case
Imagine This: If you win the case in court, then you will automatically be cleared from blame or suspicion.
Labels: language
1.12.2007
Define Yourself
The online dictionary that I have bookmarked is Merriam-Webster, and it's mostly pretty good although they recently redesigned the site and I'm not crazy about the new format. And then there are those annoying times when the free version won't provide you with the definition. Which happened recently when I wanted to get the precise meaning of "unexpurgated"... I entered the word and instead of a definition it said "unexpurgated can be found at Merriam-WebsterUnabridged.com. Click here to start your free trial!" Which is free for two weeks and then you have to pay. Ack phthbbt!
But I just found this other dictionary site: Dictionary of Definitions. It's recently been redesigned and it's still in beta, but I decided to type in "unexpurgated" and sure enough, I get a definition: "not having material deleted." Simple. They still give all the extra information like example sentences, synonyms, etc., but it's a much cleaner design than the new Merriam-Webster. Like their tagline says: "Simple. Complete. Elegant." I like it. Now if only they would offer a "word of the day" email service, it would be perfect!
But I just found this other dictionary site: Dictionary of Definitions. It's recently been redesigned and it's still in beta, but I decided to type in "unexpurgated" and sure enough, I get a definition: "not having material deleted." Simple. They still give all the extra information like example sentences, synonyms, etc., but it's a much cleaner design than the new Merriam-Webster. Like their tagline says: "Simple. Complete. Elegant." I like it. Now if only they would offer a "word of the day" email service, it would be perfect!
Labels: language
1.09.2007
Dazlious
I went to see Snow Cake on Sunday. It was a wonderful film. And the more I think about it, the more I like it. But this post is not about writing a review (there are numerous reviews of it out there; like the one at Future Movies), this is about one of my favourite moments in the movie: the scrabble scene. It's "comic book scrabble," where you can make up any word you like as long as you can use it in a sentence. In a piece of dialogue that is beautiful and poetic and wonderfully delivered (even if it's not true to the character's voice; yes Brendan, I admit it... you're right), Sigourney Weaver's character makes up the word "Dazlious." When Alan Rickman's character asks for her example of the word, she weaves this intricate story:
Mr. Fantastic from the fantastic four. He's got arms made of elastic so they can stretch for two maybe three hundred miles. He's been imprisoned in a cave for seven days with no food and no water and no light. And on the eighth day, he manages to loosen a rock and push his way up through the top. And up into the daylight, just as the sun is coming up over the mountains and filling the sky with this white yellow light. And there's a stillness. And in the few minutes he's got before his captor—the evil Dr. Doom—returns, he stops for one second. And all he can hear is his own breathing. And he's totally overwhelmed by how big the world is, and how small and unimportant he is. And as he turns around, you see his face look to the sky and he says very quietly, so that no one can hear him, he says, "Dazlious." (Watch the Scrabble clip here.)Dazlious. I think it's a fabulous word. One that I intend to add to my vocuabulary of awe and wonder. Dazlious.
Labels: film, language, pop culture
12.09.2006
Yiddish 101
"Schlemiel! Schlimazel! Hasenpfeffer Incorporated!"
Did you know that schlemiel and schlimazel are both actual Yiddish words? I came across them while I was writing my previous post (My Latest Spiel).
Schlemiel : an inept clumsy person; a bungler; a dolt
Schlimazel : a chronically unlucky person
The difference between a schlemiel and a schlimazel is best described through the aphorism, "The schlemiel spills his soup on the schlimazel."
A little bit about Yiddish:
There are so many good, fun Yiddish words... too many to choose from. But choose I have. Here are a mere handful of the Yiddish words that pepper my vocabulary (with an emphasis on the many varied words that describe different types of unfortunate folk):
Chutzpah : ballsiness, guts, daring, audacity, effrontery
Kvell : feel delighted and proud
Kvetch : to complain habitually, gripe; as a noun, a person who always complains
Mensch : an upright man; a decent human being
Meshuggeneh : crazy, insane
Mitsve : a good deed
Nebbish : an insignificant, awkward person; a nerd
Nudnik : an obnoxious person; a pest
Oy vey : interjection of grief, pain, or horror
Putz : an idiot, a jerk (literally, a diminutive form of 'penis')
Schlub : a clumsy, stupid, or unattractive person
Schmuck : a contemptible or foolish person; a jerk (also means 'penis', but not a diminutive form... so, colloquially speaking, I guess that a putz would be a "little prick" while a schmuck is a "big prick"
)
Did you know that schlemiel and schlimazel are both actual Yiddish words? I came across them while I was writing my previous post (My Latest Spiel).
Schlemiel : an inept clumsy person; a bungler; a dolt
Schlimazel : a chronically unlucky person
The difference between a schlemiel and a schlimazel is best described through the aphorism, "The schlemiel spills his soup on the schlimazel."
A little bit about Yiddish:
Yiddish is a language that is used by Ashkenazi Jews, and is related to German (but also has many Slavic, Hebrew, and Aramaic loan words). It is written using the Hebrew script. Before the Shoah, there were estimated to be 11 million fluent Yiddish speakers, and today Yiddish is experiencing a revival in America (Ladino is the Spanish equivalent of Yiddish for Sephardic Jews). In America, a hybrid of Yiddish and English has developed called "Yinglish" or "Ameridish." It is also sometimes called "frumspeak," since it is often associated with the Yeshivas and orthodox Jews living in New York City.
Yiddish is, above all, the paradigmatic "Jewish" language — the insider's way of communicating to fellow Jews about day-to-day things (talk about God and faith is reserved for Lashon Hakkodesh — the holy tongue of Hebrew). It is at once sarcastic and dark, yet it is ultimately full of vigor, hope, and charm. In it you can hear the pathos of Jewish suffering but also the omnipresent faith that the Jew's future will triumph in hope.(from hebrew4christians.com)
There are so many good, fun Yiddish words... too many to choose from. But choose I have. Here are a mere handful of the Yiddish words that pepper my vocabulary (with an emphasis on the many varied words that describe different types of unfortunate folk):
Chutzpah : ballsiness, guts, daring, audacity, effrontery
Kvell : feel delighted and proud
Kvetch : to complain habitually, gripe; as a noun, a person who always complains
Mensch : an upright man; a decent human being
Meshuggeneh : crazy, insane
Mitsve : a good deed
Nebbish : an insignificant, awkward person; a nerd
Nudnik : an obnoxious person; a pest
Oy vey : interjection of grief, pain, or horror
Putz : an idiot, a jerk (literally, a diminutive form of 'penis')
Schlub : a clumsy, stupid, or unattractive person
Schmuck : a contemptible or foolish person; a jerk (also means 'penis', but not a diminutive form... so, colloquially speaking, I guess that a putz would be a "little prick" while a schmuck is a "big prick"
)8.21.2006
The Ultimate in Geekiness
Okay, here's the deal... I was planning on inventing a made-up language for the demons in my short film. It was going to be a mash up of Russian, German, Finnish, Ojibway and Klingon. Yes... Klingon. I was able to find regular online translation sites for most of the... er... non-alien languages (and I have a human source for Ojibway), but I wasn't sure how much luck I would have with Klingon. As it turns out, the Klingon was almost the easiest one. I came across a Universal Translator that will translate (or "relexify," to use their word) into Klingon, Vulcan and Romulan: Universal Translator Assistant Project.
I had loads of fun making up my language, but I didn't end up using it for my script. Why? Because I my film course doesn't include a sound workshop... *sigh*... Not that I was going to let that stop me, but after my "Directing Survival On the Set" Workshop yesterday I'm thinking that I should follow the advice of those who know more than I. So I'll just be dubbing in guttural gibberish mixed in with a bunch of clicks and clacks. It'll probably actually work better in the long run, but I did have fun coming up with my "language."
I had loads of fun making up my language, but I didn't end up using it for my script. Why? Because I my film course doesn't include a sound workshop... *sigh*... Not that I was going to let that stop me, but after my "Directing Survival On the Set" Workshop yesterday I'm thinking that I should follow the advice of those who know more than I. So I'll just be dubbing in guttural gibberish mixed in with a bunch of clicks and clacks. It'll probably actually work better in the long run, but I did have fun coming up with my "language."
Labels: film, language, pop culture
10.02.2005
How Many is A Brazillion?
I've been crazy busy and crazy sick, so my blog has been left unattended of late. But I just received this little funny and thought it was worth posting:
Donald Rumsfeld is giving the president his daily briefing. He concludes by saying, "Yesterday, three Brazilian soldiers were killed."
"OH NO!" The President exclaims. "That's terrible!"
His staff sits stunned at this display of emotion, nervously watching as the President sits, head in hands.
Finally, the President looks up and asks, "How many is a brazillion?"
Labels: bush bashing, humour, language
8.27.2005
Language
All the posts where I muse aloud about Language:
Inter Alia (8.26.2005)
Neologism Contest (8.25.2005)
Outside the Box Poet (8.07.2005)
The Language of Metaphor (7.17.2005)
Doubleplusungood (4.06.2005)
Jargon Watch (3.10.2005)
Dinosaur Blog (3.09.2005)
Dissonance (1.07.2005)
Inglish (9.04.2004)
Word of the Day (8.18.2004)
Hmm... I thought there were more. Apparently I think about Language more than I write about it.
Inter Alia (8.26.2005)
Neologism Contest (8.25.2005)
Outside the Box Poet (8.07.2005)
The Language of Metaphor (7.17.2005)
Doubleplusungood (4.06.2005)
Jargon Watch (3.10.2005)
Dinosaur Blog (3.09.2005)
Dissonance (1.07.2005)
Inglish (9.04.2004)
Word of the Day (8.18.2004)
Hmm... I thought there were more. Apparently I think about Language more than I write about it.
Labels: language
8.26.2005
Inter Alia
My friend Brian used the phrase inter alia in an email recently and I didn't know what it meant! So I surfed over to Wikipedia to find the meaning: "Among other things" (hmm... that almost sounds like I went to find the meaning and other stuff, but just to be clear, "among other things" is the translation). I thought it a handy sort of phrase, so while I was there I decided to pull out some other Latin phrases and proverbs that appealed to me:
Ad absurdum: "To absurdity" — Taken to an absurd extreme (in logic).
Alea iacta est: "The die has been cast" — said by Julius Caesar after his decision to defy Roman law by crossing the Rubicon with his troops.
Coito ergo sum: "I have sex, therefore I am" (a pun on Cogito ergo sum: "I think, therefore I am").
Deus ex machina: "A god from a machine" — a contrived or artificial solution, usually to a literary plot. Refers to the practice in Greek drama of lowering by machine an actor playing Zeus onto the stage — as though he were descending from Olympus — to resolve an awkward plot. [aka Something I try to avoid using in my writing.]
Draco dormiens numquam titillandus: "Never tickle a sleeping dragon" — Motto of Hogwarts School in the Harry Potter novels by J. K. Rowling.
Ex astris, Scientia: "From the stars, Knowledge" (the motto of the Apollo 13 Mission, later becomes the motto of the fictional Starfleet Academy in Star Trek).
Lapsus linguae: "A slip of the tongue."
Multum in parvo: "Much in little" — e.g., "Latin phrases are often multum in parvo, because they convey much in few words."
Ne plus ultra (also nec plus ultra, non plus ultra): "nothing more beyond" literally, but figuratively it is a descriptive phrase meaning the best or most extreme example of something. The Pillars of Hercules, for example, were the ne plus ultra (in the literal sense) of the ancient Mediterranean world.
Non sum qualis eram: "I am not what I once was" — I have changed.
Omnia dicta fortiora, si dicta latina: "Everything sounds more impressive when said in Latin" — Mostly used as a form of irony to poke fun at people who seem to use Latin phrases and quotes only to make themselves sound more important or "educated."
Panem et circenses: "Bread and circus plays" — coined by Juvenal to describe all that was needed for the emperors to placate the Roman mob, and today used to describe any public entertainment used to distract public attention from more important matters. [Though not romantic in itself, this phrase reminded me of a romantic Spanish proverb: Contigo, pan y cebolla, "With you, bread and onion." Basically meaning "I would go anywhere with you, even if we could only eat bread and onions."]
Pons asinorum: "Bridge of asses" — Any obstacle that stupid people find hard to cross, originally used of Euclid's Fifth Proposition in geometry.
Post hoc, ergo propter hoc: "After this, therefore because of this" — a logical fallacy in which sequence and cause are confused. [Also the title of an episode of The West Wing.]
Quid pro quo: "This for that" or "A thing for a thing" — i.e., in english, a favor for a favor. [aka The phrase that I used a couple times in emails while internet dating that caused the recipients to ask if I was a lawyer, as if only lawyers use Latin... no actual dates were had with the men in question.]
Res ipsa loquitur: "The thing speaks for itself" — a phrase from the common law of torts that means negligence can be inferred from the fact that such an accident happened, without proof of exactly how.
Res ipsa loquitur, sed quid in infernos dicit?: "The thing speaks for itself, but what the hell does it say?" — a sarcastic pseudo-Latin commentary on res ipsa loquitur, reminding the listener that we must still interpret the significance of events that "speak for themselves".
Vox clamantis in deserto: "The voice of one shouting in the desert" — thus "unheeded", "in vain." [I thought this one was wonderfully poetic.]
And if that's not enough for you... more Latin Quotes & Phrases.
Ad absurdum: "To absurdity" — Taken to an absurd extreme (in logic).
Alea iacta est: "The die has been cast" — said by Julius Caesar after his decision to defy Roman law by crossing the Rubicon with his troops.
Coito ergo sum: "I have sex, therefore I am" (a pun on Cogito ergo sum: "I think, therefore I am").
Deus ex machina: "A god from a machine" — a contrived or artificial solution, usually to a literary plot. Refers to the practice in Greek drama of lowering by machine an actor playing Zeus onto the stage — as though he were descending from Olympus — to resolve an awkward plot. [aka Something I try to avoid using in my writing.]
Draco dormiens numquam titillandus: "Never tickle a sleeping dragon" — Motto of Hogwarts School in the Harry Potter novels by J. K. Rowling.
Ex astris, Scientia: "From the stars, Knowledge" (the motto of the Apollo 13 Mission, later becomes the motto of the fictional Starfleet Academy in Star Trek).
Lapsus linguae: "A slip of the tongue."
Multum in parvo: "Much in little" — e.g., "Latin phrases are often multum in parvo, because they convey much in few words."
Ne plus ultra (also nec plus ultra, non plus ultra): "nothing more beyond" literally, but figuratively it is a descriptive phrase meaning the best or most extreme example of something. The Pillars of Hercules, for example, were the ne plus ultra (in the literal sense) of the ancient Mediterranean world.
Non sum qualis eram: "I am not what I once was" — I have changed.
Omnia dicta fortiora, si dicta latina: "Everything sounds more impressive when said in Latin" — Mostly used as a form of irony to poke fun at people who seem to use Latin phrases and quotes only to make themselves sound more important or "educated."
Panem et circenses: "Bread and circus plays" — coined by Juvenal to describe all that was needed for the emperors to placate the Roman mob, and today used to describe any public entertainment used to distract public attention from more important matters. [Though not romantic in itself, this phrase reminded me of a romantic Spanish proverb: Contigo, pan y cebolla, "With you, bread and onion." Basically meaning "I would go anywhere with you, even if we could only eat bread and onions."]
Pons asinorum: "Bridge of asses" — Any obstacle that stupid people find hard to cross, originally used of Euclid's Fifth Proposition in geometry.
Post hoc, ergo propter hoc: "After this, therefore because of this" — a logical fallacy in which sequence and cause are confused. [Also the title of an episode of The West Wing.]
Quid pro quo: "This for that" or "A thing for a thing" — i.e., in english, a favor for a favor. [aka The phrase that I used a couple times in emails while internet dating that caused the recipients to ask if I was a lawyer, as if only lawyers use Latin... no actual dates were had with the men in question.]
Res ipsa loquitur: "The thing speaks for itself" — a phrase from the common law of torts that means negligence can be inferred from the fact that such an accident happened, without proof of exactly how.
Res ipsa loquitur, sed quid in infernos dicit?: "The thing speaks for itself, but what the hell does it say?" — a sarcastic pseudo-Latin commentary on res ipsa loquitur, reminding the listener that we must still interpret the significance of events that "speak for themselves".
Vox clamantis in deserto: "The voice of one shouting in the desert" — thus "unheeded", "in vain." [I thought this one was wonderfully poetic.]
And if that's not enough for you... more Latin Quotes & Phrases.
Labels: language
8.25.2005
Neologism Contest
I've already seen a few of these words floating around on my visits to various neologism sites, but here is the complete list of Washington Post Neologism Contest winners:
Annual Neologism Contest
Once again, The Washington Post has published the winning submissions to its yearly contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.
The winners are:
1. Coffee (n): The person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted (adj): Appalled over how much weight you have gained.
3. Abdicate (v): To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Esplanade (v): To attempt an explanation while drunk.
5. Willy-nilly (adj): Impotent.
6. Negligent (adj): Describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.
7. Lymph (v): To walk with a lisp.
8. Gargoyle (n): Olive-flavored mouthwash.
9. Flatulence (n): Emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.
10. Balderdash (n): A rapidly receding hairline.
11. Testicle (n): A humorous question on an exam.
12. Rectitude (n): The formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
13. Pokemon (n): A Rastafarian proctologist.
14. Oyster (n): A person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.
15. Frisbeetarianism (n), (back by popular demand): The belief that, when you die, your Soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
16. Circumvent (n): An opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.
~
Style Invitational
The Washington Post's Style Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.
Here are this year's winners:
1. Bozone (n): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
2. Cashtration (n): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.
3. Giraffiti (n): Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
4. Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
5. Inoculatte (v): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
6. Hipatitis (n): Terminal coolness.
7. Osteopornosis (n): A degenerate disease.(This one got extra credit.)
8. Karmageddon (n): It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
9. Decafalon (n): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
10. Glibido (v): All talk and no action.
11. Dopeler effect (n): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.
12. Arachnoleptic fit (n): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.
13. Beelzebug (n): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
14. Caterpallor (n): The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you're eating.
And the pick of the literature:
15. Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an asshole.
(My personal favourites... in the alternate meaning category: coffee, oyster and circumvent; in the change one letter category: sarchasm, osteopornosis, and — the delightful one that already appears to be in wide use — ignoranus.)
Annual Neologism Contest
Once again, The Washington Post has published the winning submissions to its yearly contest, in which readers are asked to supply alternate meanings for common words.
The winners are:
1. Coffee (n): The person upon whom one coughs.
2. Flabbergasted (adj): Appalled over how much weight you have gained.
3. Abdicate (v): To give up all hope of ever having a flat stomach.
4. Esplanade (v): To attempt an explanation while drunk.
5. Willy-nilly (adj): Impotent.
6. Negligent (adj): Describes a condition in which you absentmindedly answer the door in your nightgown.
7. Lymph (v): To walk with a lisp.
8. Gargoyle (n): Olive-flavored mouthwash.
9. Flatulence (n): Emergency vehicle that picks you up after you are run over by a steamroller.
10. Balderdash (n): A rapidly receding hairline.
11. Testicle (n): A humorous question on an exam.
12. Rectitude (n): The formal, dignified bearing adopted by proctologists.
13. Pokemon (n): A Rastafarian proctologist.
14. Oyster (n): A person who sprinkles his conversation with Yiddishisms.
15. Frisbeetarianism (n), (back by popular demand): The belief that, when you die, your Soul flies up onto the roof and gets stuck there.
16. Circumvent (n): An opening in the front of boxer shorts worn by Jewish men.
~
Style Invitational
The Washington Post's Style Invitational once again asked readers to take any word from the dictionary, alter it by adding, subtracting, or changing one letter, and supply a new definition.
Here are this year's winners:
1. Bozone (n): The substance surrounding stupid people that stops bright ideas from penetrating. The bozone layer, unfortunately, shows little sign of breaking down in the near future.
2. Cashtration (n): The act of buying a house, which renders the subject financially impotent for an indefinite period.
3. Giraffiti (n): Vandalism spray-painted very, very high.
4. Sarchasm (n): The gulf between the author of sarcastic wit and the person who doesn't get it.
5. Inoculatte (v): To take coffee intravenously when you are running late.
6. Hipatitis (n): Terminal coolness.
7. Osteopornosis (n): A degenerate disease.(This one got extra credit.)
8. Karmageddon (n): It's like, when everybody is sending off all these really bad vibes, right? And then, like, the Earth explodes and it's like, a serious bummer.
9. Decafalon (n): The grueling event of getting through the day consuming only things that are good for you.
10. Glibido (v): All talk and no action.
11. Dopeler effect (n): The tendency of stupid ideas to seem smarter when they come at you rapidly.
12. Arachnoleptic fit (n): The frantic dance performed just after you've accidentally walked through a spider web.
13. Beelzebug (n): Satan in the form of a mosquito that gets into your bedroom at three in the morning and cannot be cast out.
14. Caterpallor (n): The color you turn after finding half a grub in the fruit you're eating.
And the pick of the literature:
15. Ignoranus (n): A person who's both stupid and an asshole.
(My personal favourites... in the alternate meaning category: coffee, oyster and circumvent; in the change one letter category: sarchasm, osteopornosis, and — the delightful one that already appears to be in wide use — ignoranus.)
Labels: language
8.07.2005
Outside the Box Poet
While visiting the Language is a Virus website that I mentioned in my previous post, I was playing around with some of the toys it offers. Here's the crazy but cool poem I created with their Madlib Poem generator:
fun i have never imagined, joyfully beyond
any intellectual, your hearts have their tangerine bliss:
in your most extraordinary math are things which solve me,
or which i cannot dream because they are too intense
your cryptic look curiously will unbreathe me
though i have rain myself as a puzzle,
you shine always breath by breath myself as creation cries
(shouting voraciously, seriously) her cult art
or if your dream be to celebrate me, i and
my imagination will write very darkly, spontaneously,
as when the aficionado of this intellectual reads
the theatre succinctly everywhere watching;
nothing which we are to dance in this film hears
the music of your pierced books: whose poetry
drinks me with the laughter of its tequila,
loving wine and research with each living
(i do not laugh what it is about you that eats
and pierces; only something in me tattoos
the crossword of your soul, more eclectic than all creation)
my eyes, not even the goth, has such alternative skin.
(Note: I tweaked it ever so slightly, changing a few things that didn't make sense to me... which means that this version actually does make a kind of sense to me. Believe it or not.)
fun i have never imagined, joyfully beyond
any intellectual, your hearts have their tangerine bliss:
in your most extraordinary math are things which solve me,
or which i cannot dream because they are too intense
your cryptic look curiously will unbreathe me
though i have rain myself as a puzzle,
you shine always breath by breath myself as creation cries
(shouting voraciously, seriously) her cult art
or if your dream be to celebrate me, i and
my imagination will write very darkly, spontaneously,
as when the aficionado of this intellectual reads
the theatre succinctly everywhere watching;
nothing which we are to dance in this film hears
the music of your pierced books: whose poetry
drinks me with the laughter of its tequila,
loving wine and research with each living
(i do not laugh what it is about you that eats
and pierces; only something in me tattoos
the crossword of your soul, more eclectic than all creation)
my eyes, not even the goth, has such alternative skin.
(Note: I tweaked it ever so slightly, changing a few things that didn't make sense to me... which means that this version actually does make a kind of sense to me. Believe it or not.)
The Man Who Sold the World
I've been listening to Jordis Unga's version of "The Man Who Sold the World" almost constantly since last Wednesday. [I was actually prepared to pay to download it from MSN Music, but if you don't have a credit card with a U.S. billing address (which, as a Canadian, I definitely don't) then you're screwed. So I resorted to downloading it through LimeWire. I don't imagine that Jordis is actually getting royalties from the version on MSN, though, so I don't feel too bad about that. Now for the actual point of this post...]
I've been listening to the very interesting lyrics of the song and trying to make sense of them:
We passed upon the stairs,
We spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there
He said I was his friend
Which came as a surprise
I spoke into his eyes — I thought you died alone
A long long time ago
Oh no, not me,
We never lost control,
To face the face
Of the man who sold the world
I laughed and shook his hand,
I made my way back home,
I searched afar the land,
Years and years I roamed,
I gazed a gazely stare,
We walked a million hills — I must have died alone,
A long long time ago.
Who knows, not me,
I never lost control,
You're face, to face,
With the man who sold the world.
As with a lot of Bowie songs, it defies literal interpretation. I like to think of his lyrics as abstract paintings: what's important is the impression they create. So my impression of this song was all about spirituality, reincarnation and renouncing the material world. But I wanted to know if there was more to it, so Google to the rescue with Teenage Wildlife:
The Man Who Sold the World — Lyrical Interpretation
It's a very interesting interpretation, taking the reader from those general impressions to the stories of H.P. Lovecraft and beyond. Worth reading.
Also in my research, I read about Bowie's "cut up" songs and I wondered if this song was one of them. "The cut-up technique was originally devised by the Surrealists, and most famously used in literature by William Burroughs: you take a text, cut it into pieces, reassemble these pieces haphazardly, and thus create something new" (from David Bowie and the Occult). This technique kinda appeals to me; I might have to try that with my poetry some time. (If you want to try out an online cut up machine, head over to Language Is A Virus... very cool.)
I've been listening to the very interesting lyrics of the song and trying to make sense of them:
We passed upon the stairs,
We spoke of was and when
Although I wasn't there
He said I was his friend
Which came as a surprise
I spoke into his eyes — I thought you died alone
A long long time ago
Oh no, not me,
We never lost control,
To face the face
Of the man who sold the world
I laughed and shook his hand,
I made my way back home,
I searched afar the land,
Years and years I roamed,
I gazed a gazely stare,
We walked a million hills — I must have died alone,
A long long time ago.
Who knows, not me,
I never lost control,
You're face, to face,
With the man who sold the world.
As with a lot of Bowie songs, it defies literal interpretation. I like to think of his lyrics as abstract paintings: what's important is the impression they create. So my impression of this song was all about spirituality, reincarnation and renouncing the material world. But I wanted to know if there was more to it, so Google to the rescue with Teenage Wildlife:
The Man Who Sold the World — Lyrical Interpretation
It's a very interesting interpretation, taking the reader from those general impressions to the stories of H.P. Lovecraft and beyond. Worth reading.
Also in my research, I read about Bowie's "cut up" songs and I wondered if this song was one of them. "The cut-up technique was originally devised by the Surrealists, and most famously used in literature by William Burroughs: you take a text, cut it into pieces, reassemble these pieces haphazardly, and thus create something new" (from David Bowie and the Occult). This technique kinda appeals to me; I might have to try that with my poetry some time. (If you want to try out an online cut up machine, head over to Language Is A Virus... very cool.)
Labels: language, music, pop culture, rockstar
7.17.2005
The Language of Metaphor
I noticed that "Darmok" was on TV the other night. First thought: I love that episode! Second thought: Didn't I write a blog post about it? Answer to second thought: Apparently I never finished it. I found the draft from March 10:
I'm a little disappointed with myself that I never finished it. The only other things I'd written in the draft were some random words and phrases:
~ figurative language vs. literal language
~ rhetorical tropes
~ evolution of language
~ boom of contemporary cultural metaphors
I also had a link to The Darmok Dictionary, but that was all. Curses to my short attention span! I think it might have been an interesting post (well, interesting to me anyway... and given my limited viewing audience, I guess that's pretty much all that matters here).
I considered trying to finish it now, but I'm having trouble at the moment condensing this idea into a blog post of reasonable length. Concise and witty it would not be. Ponderous and verbose, more like. So until I learn to trim either my thoughts or my words, I leave this unfinished.
Shaka, when the walls fell.
I seem to be on a bit of a lingustics kick ever since coming across that "dinosaur blog" cartoon. Writing the definition for "grassy knollism" in yesterday's blog post got me thinking about the use of metaphor and allusion in language. Which, if you're a bit of sci-fi geek, should conjure up the "Darmok" episode of Star Trek: TNG (the one episode that I bothered to buy on VHS).
I'm a little disappointed with myself that I never finished it. The only other things I'd written in the draft were some random words and phrases:
~ figurative language vs. literal language
~ rhetorical tropes
~ evolution of language
~ boom of contemporary cultural metaphors
I also had a link to The Darmok Dictionary, but that was all. Curses to my short attention span! I think it might have been an interesting post (well, interesting to me anyway... and given my limited viewing audience, I guess that's pretty much all that matters here).
I considered trying to finish it now, but I'm having trouble at the moment condensing this idea into a blog post of reasonable length. Concise and witty it would not be. Ponderous and verbose, more like. So until I learn to trim either my thoughts or my words, I leave this unfinished.
Shaka, when the walls fell.
Labels: language, pop culture, tv
4.06.2005
Doubleplusungood
Was watching last night's intro to The Daily Show with Jon Stewart and was quite tickled by the segment about the latest report critiquing U.S. intelligence gathering capabilities (and the NY Times' use of the phrase "doody-headed nincompoopery"... one can't help but wonder if the decline in their vocabulary is the result of William Safire's retirement... but I digress). While pondering why the authors of this report didn't seem to have access to the three previous reports that reached the same conclusions, Stewart suggested that a new report would be issued to explain this lack of communication, entitled:
"The Report Commission:
Reporting on Reporting Redundancy on Commission Reporting"
>>> watch segment
Naturally, this made me think of the phrase "Department of Redundancy Department." (Did I mention that this was going to be one of those tangentially meandering blog posts?) And I started trying to figure out who first coined that phrase. I remember reading it in "Anguished English" by Richard Lederer, but I'm sure it was around before then. It almost sounds Orwellian but it's kinda the antithesis of the Newspeak in "1984," which is intended to simplify language to its barest, most essential parts rather than make it more complicated than it needs to be (hmm... complicated like my run-on sentences that spew verbosity at every turn). Ironically, the Newspeak translation of "extremely bad" into "doubleplusungood" actually sounds more complicated to me, even though its root words are simplistic. (By the way, check out this Complete Newspeak Dictionary.) But I'm digressing yet again. (Though how can one tell in such a tangent-based rambling?)
Now where was I? Oh yes, Newspeak. The purpose of Newspeak is to dehumanize language and discount the emotion behind complex constructions of words. So if a culture's language does not contain the word for a concept, will the people of that culture be unable to comprehend it? Apparently, some linguistic anthropologists seem to think so (one website that I stumbled across claimed that Noam Chomsky is one of them, but being more familiar with his anarchist politics than his lingustic theories, I can't vouch for that). Taken to its extreme: if no word for "suffering" exists, how can one appreciate that they are, indeed, suffering? Likewise, how can an oppressed people rebel if they do not understand what "to rebel" means?
Hmm, interesting idea. But I counter with Buffy creator Joss Whedon's claim that language can sometimes have the effect of inhibiting true communication. (Have you seen the Emmy-nominated Buffy episode "Hush"? The majority of the episode is completely without dialogue and what little dialogue there is at the beginning and end of the show focuses on speech and communication... very on theme.) Who was it who said that words conceal as much as they reveal? [Google search result: "Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within." ~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson]
Now don't get me wrong, I LOVE words (as anybody who reads my blog can attest). But I would argue that the hypothetical culture that doesn't have a word for suffering or rebellion will still suffer and rebel AND communicate about it. That communication may involve action or art instead of language, but the lack of a word doesn't prevent the intuitive thought. Does it? Or maybe I'm naive and uneducated and I just need to read more about the various theories of linguistics. And maybe that's more than enough inconclusive ramblings for today.
Reporting on Reporting Redundancy on Commission Reporting"
>>> watch segment
Naturally, this made me think of the phrase "Department of Redundancy Department." (Did I mention that this was going to be one of those tangentially meandering blog posts?) And I started trying to figure out who first coined that phrase. I remember reading it in "Anguished English" by Richard Lederer, but I'm sure it was around before then. It almost sounds Orwellian but it's kinda the antithesis of the Newspeak in "1984," which is intended to simplify language to its barest, most essential parts rather than make it more complicated than it needs to be (hmm... complicated like my run-on sentences that spew verbosity at every turn). Ironically, the Newspeak translation of "extremely bad" into "doubleplusungood" actually sounds more complicated to me, even though its root words are simplistic. (By the way, check out this Complete Newspeak Dictionary.) But I'm digressing yet again. (Though how can one tell in such a tangent-based rambling?)
Now where was I? Oh yes, Newspeak. The purpose of Newspeak is to dehumanize language and discount the emotion behind complex constructions of words. So if a culture's language does not contain the word for a concept, will the people of that culture be unable to comprehend it? Apparently, some linguistic anthropologists seem to think so (one website that I stumbled across claimed that Noam Chomsky is one of them, but being more familiar with his anarchist politics than his lingustic theories, I can't vouch for that). Taken to its extreme: if no word for "suffering" exists, how can one appreciate that they are, indeed, suffering? Likewise, how can an oppressed people rebel if they do not understand what "to rebel" means?
Hmm, interesting idea. But I counter with Buffy creator Joss Whedon's claim that language can sometimes have the effect of inhibiting true communication. (Have you seen the Emmy-nominated Buffy episode "Hush"? The majority of the episode is completely without dialogue and what little dialogue there is at the beginning and end of the show focuses on speech and communication... very on theme.) Who was it who said that words conceal as much as they reveal? [Google search result: "Words, like nature, half reveal and half conceal the soul within." ~ Alfred, Lord Tennyson]
Now don't get me wrong, I LOVE words (as anybody who reads my blog can attest). But I would argue that the hypothetical culture that doesn't have a word for suffering or rebellion will still suffer and rebel AND communicate about it. That communication may involve action or art instead of language, but the lack of a word doesn't prevent the intuitive thought. Does it? Or maybe I'm naive and uneducated and I just need to read more about the various theories of linguistics. And maybe that's more than enough inconclusive ramblings for today.
Labels: books and literature, buffy, humour, jon stewart, language, philosophy, politics, tv
3.10.2005
Jargon Watch
Putting together yesterday's blog post made me start thinking about other words or phrases that have been coined, whether they have successfully entered our language or are simply found on an isolated website or used amongst a small, select group of people.
I thought I'd check Boing Boing first, since they had first pointed me in the direction of "dinosaur blog," but I discovered that they don't have a special "jargon watch" section. Though I did find an entry from 2003 about TV biz jargon watch that had words like "anticipointment (n): what viewers experience when you fall short of their expectations after over-promoting a story or show." While entertaining, these words seemed more like sniglets (words that don’t appear in the dictionary, but should) than words that might truly enter our language.
So I did a quick search and found: The Word Spy. This has some sniglet-type words along with phrases that have (or could conceivably) become part of our regular jargon. A few examples:
anacronym n. An acronym where few people remember what each letter stands for (anachronistic + acronym). Ex. radar.
beforemath (bee.FOHR.math) n. The events and situations that lead to a particular end (cf. aftermath).
CHAOS (KAY.aws) acronym. Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome; not inviting guests to one's house because it is too messy or cluttered.
egosurfing n. The activity of searching the World Wide Web for occurrences of your own name.
fauxhemian (FOH.hee.mee.un) adj. Relating to something that is bohemian in a fake or pretentious manner. n. A middle class or wealthy person who affects a countercultural lifestyle.
grassy knollism n. A tendency to formulate conspiracy theories, despite facts to the contrary or a lack of evidence.
ignoranus (ig.nor.AY.nus) n. A person who is both stupid and extremely rude or obnoxious.
jargon gap n. The inability to understand another person's jargon-laden writing or speech; a feeling of inadequacy (usu. ironic) caused by another's facility with jargon terms.
link rot n. The gradual obsolescence of the links on a Web page as the sites they point to become unavailable.
mobile speed bump n. A car that travels at the speed limit to force the cars behind to do the same.
numeronymous adj. Describes a phone number where the numbers also spell out a word or phrase (e.g., 1-800-GO-FEDEX).
threat fatigue (THRET fuh.teeg) n. Ignoring or downplaying possible threats because one has been subjected to constant warnings about those threats.
Volvo Democrat (VOHL.voh dem.uh.krat) n. A white, well-educated, moderately affluent, liberal, suburban professional. (This one tickled my funnybone because of my Greenpeace days... whenever we were canvassing and saw a Volvo in the driveway, we were practically guaranteed a donation.) cf. SUV Democrat & Lexus Liberal.
Other websites to check out:
Buffy Slanguage
Double-Tongued Word Wrester
Macmillan English Dictionary: New Words
The Slang Dictionary
Unwords
Urban Dictionary
My favourites tend to be words whose meanings you can intuit without the help of a definition. Such as "voluntold: when someone else volunteers you for something, usually against your will."
I thought I'd check Boing Boing first, since they had first pointed me in the direction of "dinosaur blog," but I discovered that they don't have a special "jargon watch" section. Though I did find an entry from 2003 about TV biz jargon watch that had words like "anticipointment (n): what viewers experience when you fall short of their expectations after over-promoting a story or show." While entertaining, these words seemed more like sniglets (words that don’t appear in the dictionary, but should) than words that might truly enter our language.
So I did a quick search and found: The Word Spy. This has some sniglet-type words along with phrases that have (or could conceivably) become part of our regular jargon. A few examples:
anacronym n. An acronym where few people remember what each letter stands for (anachronistic + acronym). Ex. radar.
beforemath (bee.FOHR.math) n. The events and situations that lead to a particular end (cf. aftermath).
CHAOS (KAY.aws) acronym. Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome; not inviting guests to one's house because it is too messy or cluttered.
egosurfing n. The activity of searching the World Wide Web for occurrences of your own name.
fauxhemian (FOH.hee.mee.un) adj. Relating to something that is bohemian in a fake or pretentious manner. n. A middle class or wealthy person who affects a countercultural lifestyle.
grassy knollism n. A tendency to formulate conspiracy theories, despite facts to the contrary or a lack of evidence.
ignoranus (ig.nor.AY.nus) n. A person who is both stupid and extremely rude or obnoxious.
jargon gap n. The inability to understand another person's jargon-laden writing or speech; a feeling of inadequacy (usu. ironic) caused by another's facility with jargon terms.
link rot n. The gradual obsolescence of the links on a Web page as the sites they point to become unavailable.
mobile speed bump n. A car that travels at the speed limit to force the cars behind to do the same.
numeronymous adj. Describes a phone number where the numbers also spell out a word or phrase (e.g., 1-800-GO-FEDEX).
threat fatigue (THRET fuh.teeg) n. Ignoring or downplaying possible threats because one has been subjected to constant warnings about those threats.
Volvo Democrat (VOHL.voh dem.uh.krat) n. A white, well-educated, moderately affluent, liberal, suburban professional. (This one tickled my funnybone because of my Greenpeace days... whenever we were canvassing and saw a Volvo in the driveway, we were practically guaranteed a donation.) cf. SUV Democrat & Lexus Liberal.
Other websites to check out:
Buffy Slanguage
Double-Tongued Word Wrester
Macmillan English Dictionary: New Words
The Slang Dictionary
Unwords
Urban Dictionary
My favourites tend to be words whose meanings you can intuit without the help of a definition. Such as "voluntold: when someone else volunteers you for something, usually against your will."
Labels: language
3.09.2005
Dinosaur Blog
Dinosaur Blog \'dI-n&-"sor 'blŏg\, noun: 1. An out-of-date method of informing a large audience about current events; 2. Newspaper.
Etymology: an amusing new retronym* courtesy of the comic strip Non Sequitur.
*Retronym \'ret-r&-"nim\, noun: 1. A new word or phrase coined for an old object or concept whose original name became used for something else, or was no longer unique (Wikipedia); 2. An adjective-noun pairing generated by a change in the meaning of the base noun, usually as a result of technological advance (Fun with Words).
When asked for an example of a retronym, "Original Star Trek" usually leaps to mind. Which was, of course, simply "Star Trek" before all the various spin-offs. Other (non sci-fi geek) examples include "silent movie" and "acoustic guitar."
And I've noticed that the electronic age has resulted in an increasing number of retronyms (often unflattering). Such as "snail mail," a term coined after the advent of e-mail and generally preferred over the less derogatory options of "land mail" or "paper mail."
Warning: abstruse linguistic tangent ahead...
As I write this, I notice that although "dinosaur blog" fits the first definition of retronym, it doesn't fit the second. The base noun ("blog") hasn't simply changed its meaning, the word itself is completely modern. So what do you call it when you take a word created for a modern object or concept and apply it to something older? Like someone referring to an abacus as a "non-electronic calculator." Hmm, that doesn't really work since the word calculator just means "one that calculates" and need not refer to something electronic. What about if someone referred to a play as a "live movie" (not that I've ever heard of such a thing, but I'm blanking on any good examples)?
Is it still a retronym?
It is named retroactively, which is the spirit of the word. But it doesn't fit that second definition, since plays existed long before movies were invented. But what would be the opposite of a retronym? Pronym (as in retroactive vs. proactive)? Anteronym (retrograde vs. anterograde)? Unfortunately, I can find no such terms amongst my "nym" words: synonym, antonym, homonym, acronym, pseudonym. Or the slightly less common patronym (a name derived from the name of one's father) or eponym (a name from which another name or word is derived). Not to mention the even less familiar metonym (a word substituted for another with which it is associated), bacronym (the reverse of producing an acronym), etc.
Conclusion of Tangent: Unless someone points me in the direction of another "nym" word that I've overlooked, or thinks I should list "anteronym" on the Wiktionary List of Protologisms, I guess I'll go with my first instinct and call "dinosaur blog" a retronym.
But I've let my inner amateur etymologist ramble on for far too long. Time to go finish last weekend's cryptic crossword in Canada's own national dinosaur blog: The Globe & Mail.
Etymology: an amusing new retronym* courtesy of the comic strip Non Sequitur.
*Retronym \'ret-r&-"nim\, noun: 1. A new word or phrase coined for an old object or concept whose original name became used for something else, or was no longer unique (Wikipedia); 2. An adjective-noun pairing generated by a change in the meaning of the base noun, usually as a result of technological advance (Fun with Words).
When asked for an example of a retronym, "Original Star Trek" usually leaps to mind. Which was, of course, simply "Star Trek" before all the various spin-offs. Other (non sci-fi geek) examples include "silent movie" and "acoustic guitar."
And I've noticed that the electronic age has resulted in an increasing number of retronyms (often unflattering). Such as "snail mail," a term coined after the advent of e-mail and generally preferred over the less derogatory options of "land mail" or "paper mail."
Warning: abstruse linguistic tangent ahead...
As I write this, I notice that although "dinosaur blog" fits the first definition of retronym, it doesn't fit the second. The base noun ("blog") hasn't simply changed its meaning, the word itself is completely modern. So what do you call it when you take a word created for a modern object or concept and apply it to something older? Like someone referring to an abacus as a "non-electronic calculator." Hmm, that doesn't really work since the word calculator just means "one that calculates" and need not refer to something electronic. What about if someone referred to a play as a "live movie" (not that I've ever heard of such a thing, but I'm blanking on any good examples)?
Is it still a retronym?
It is named retroactively, which is the spirit of the word. But it doesn't fit that second definition, since plays existed long before movies were invented. But what would be the opposite of a retronym? Pronym (as in retroactive vs. proactive)? Anteronym (retrograde vs. anterograde)? Unfortunately, I can find no such terms amongst my "nym" words: synonym, antonym, homonym, acronym, pseudonym. Or the slightly less common patronym (a name derived from the name of one's father) or eponym (a name from which another name or word is derived). Not to mention the even less familiar metonym (a word substituted for another with which it is associated), bacronym (the reverse of producing an acronym), etc.
Conclusion of Tangent: Unless someone points me in the direction of another "nym" word that I've overlooked, or thinks I should list "anteronym" on the Wiktionary List of Protologisms, I guess I'll go with my first instinct and call "dinosaur blog" a retronym.
But I've let my inner amateur etymologist ramble on for far too long. Time to go finish last weekend's cryptic crossword in Canada's own national dinosaur blog: The Globe & Mail.
Labels: language
9.04.2004
Inglish
I take it you already know
Of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble, but not you
On hiccough, thorough, lough, and through.
Well done! And now you wish, perhaps,
To learn of less familiar traps?
Beware of heard, a dreadful word
That looks like beard and sounds like bird.
And dead: it's said like bed, not bead—
For goodness' sake don't call it "deed"!
Watch out for meat and great and threat.
(They rhyme with suite and straight and debt.)
A moth is not a moth in mother,
Nor both in bother, broth in brother,
And here is not a match for there,
Nor dear and fear for bear and pear,
And then there's dose and rose and lose
Just look them up—and goose and choose,
And cork and work and card and ward,
And font and front and word and sword,
And do and go and thwart and cart—
Come, come, I've hardly made a start!
A dreadful language? Man alive!
I'd mastered it when I was five.
And yet to write it, the more I tried,
I hadn't learned at fifty-five.
by T.S. Watt (1954)
I was reminded of this poem today while reading "Inglish (iz a tuf languaj to spel)" in the September edition of Saturday Night magazine. It's about the spelling reform movement that promotes simplification of the English spelling system to better reflect the phonetics of the language. My knee-jerk reaction was to reject reformation out of hand. The three arguments that I subsequently formulated to support my reaction were:
(1) The proper spelling of a word can give you an idea of its origins, which can help you figure out the meaning of an unfamiliar word.
(2) What about all of the existing printed matter? Will future generations taught spelling-reformed English be able to understand anything written in pre-reform English?
(3) With all of the dialects within the English language, whose phonetics would we use? I'm thinking that British spelling reform would look far different from American spelling reform.
Well, all of these points were mentioned in the article to some degree. Apparently my first point is proof of my intellectual elitism. Hmm... an uncomfortable, but possibly accurate, assessment. So let's put that one aside for now. The second and third points were acknowledged as obstacles to spelling reform. But apparently there are far more people than you might think trying to overcome these challenges. So maybe someday spelling reform advocates, such as the Simplified Spelling Society, will have answers to those questions that will satisfy even me. But I'm not holding my breath.
Ironic Epilogue: It was with a certain amount of embarrassment and amusement that I found myself reflecting on my strongly held opinions against spelling reform while I was working on my cryptic crossword and realized that I hadn't the faintest idea of how to spell "rutabaga" [the plural of which was the answer to "Turnips in a sack one put in furrows (9)"].
Of tough and bough and cough and dough?
Others may stumble, but not you
On hiccough, thorough, lough, and through.
Well done! And now you wish, perhaps,
To learn of less familiar traps?
Beware of heard, a dreadful word
That looks like beard and sounds like bird.
And dead: it's said like bed, not bead—
For goodness' sake don't call it "deed"!
Watch out for meat and great and threat.
(They rhyme with suite and straight and debt.)
A moth is not a moth in mother,
Nor both in bother, broth in brother,
And here is not a match for there,
Nor dear and fear for bear and pear,
And then there's dose and rose and lose
Just look them up—and goose and choose,
And cork and work and card and ward,
And font and front and word and sword,
And do and go and thwart and cart—
Come, come, I've hardly made a start!
A dreadful language? Man alive!
I'd mastered it when I was five.
And yet to write it, the more I tried,
I hadn't learned at fifty-five.
by T.S. Watt (1954)
I was reminded of this poem today while reading "Inglish (iz a tuf languaj to spel)" in the September edition of Saturday Night magazine. It's about the spelling reform movement that promotes simplification of the English spelling system to better reflect the phonetics of the language. My knee-jerk reaction was to reject reformation out of hand. The three arguments that I subsequently formulated to support my reaction were:
(1) The proper spelling of a word can give you an idea of its origins, which can help you figure out the meaning of an unfamiliar word.
(2) What about all of the existing printed matter? Will future generations taught spelling-reformed English be able to understand anything written in pre-reform English?
(3) With all of the dialects within the English language, whose phonetics would we use? I'm thinking that British spelling reform would look far different from American spelling reform.
Well, all of these points were mentioned in the article to some degree. Apparently my first point is proof of my intellectual elitism. Hmm... an uncomfortable, but possibly accurate, assessment. So let's put that one aside for now. The second and third points were acknowledged as obstacles to spelling reform. But apparently there are far more people than you might think trying to overcome these challenges. So maybe someday spelling reform advocates, such as the Simplified Spelling Society, will have answers to those questions that will satisfy even me. But I'm not holding my breath.
Ironic Epilogue: It was with a certain amount of embarrassment and amusement that I found myself reflecting on my strongly held opinions against spelling reform while I was working on my cryptic crossword and realized that I hadn't the faintest idea of how to spell "rutabaga" [the plural of which was the answer to "Turnips in a sack one put in furrows (9)"].
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