21 Reasons Why English Sucks: http://bit.ly/fSIMfG
I particularly like "7. Since there was no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present."
HT: THE Ron Gilbert
Showing posts with label what is said and what is not said. Show all posts
Showing posts with label what is said and what is not said. Show all posts
Pronunciations Paradox
How to get your comment noticed on Roger Ebert's blog.
In case you haven't read it, you can read Ebert's blog here.
The comments generally run in the few-hundreds, but, if you're like me (in that you want to read the blogger's responses to some of the comments) you look for the bold-faced end-notes that say Ebert: and then follow with his response..
With all the invective that goes on in the comments section, I'm surprised no-one's put words in his mouth. I don't think I'd do it--or if I would, not maliciously, but I figure that others would similarly be on the lookout for bold text, so were I to post a comment, I would include a bolded citation just to give other readers pause.
Some other bloggers, such as Tyler Cowen over at Marginal Revolution, usually refrain from commenting in the comments section, and when he does, it's only to correct an improper citation or clarify a statement in the original post that his readers have misread--never to argue. And he does it without adding in bold his own thoughts to the comment. That may be the wisest way to do so.
I read a lot of blogs, and Ebert's is the first I've read that comments on comments in such a way. I hope it's not exploited, but it likely will be.
Anyway, here's my comment on his latest.
oh yeah
Already I have heard from a few people who don’t want to see it “because it’s Japanese.” This is solid-gold ignorance. “Is it only dubbed?” I was asked. You dummy! All animated films are dubbed! Little Nemo can’t really speak!
That's your head-smack moment of the day, brought to you by Roger Ebert's review of Ponyo
evident vs apparent
evident means "based on the available evidence"; apparent means "based on evidence that may or may not be factually valid."
Huh?
Think of it this way: When you say something is evident, like, It's evident that gravity's responsible for the trailer backing over the cat, you suggest there's little to no doubt that that's what happened. However, when you say, It's apparent that gravity's responsible for the trailer backing over the cat you leave some room for doubt.
a delightful collection of sicilian swear words and expressions
.svg.png)
Fantasticnating post on the intentionally lost in translation from my darling cousin.
Twix = "The one with the biscuit and the moo."
words shape how we view the world
William Shakespeare may have said (through Juliet's lips): "a rose by any other name would smell as sweet," but Boroditsky thinks Shakespeare was wrong. Words, and classifications of words in different languages, do matter, she thinks.
In our broadcast, Boroditsky does an experiment — two bags, both filled with rose petals, but with different labels — that proves the Bard wrong. Or so she says.
The whole thing's here.
i eat babies...what?
In college I hung around with the rugby crowd (though I was way too much of a wuss to actually play). From them I picked up a number of social vices, a notable one being the tendency to say very crude things in very inappropriate contexts.
Occasionally I'd catch myself, and I found the best way brush off the faux pas was following up each offensive statement with a short pause and a, "What?"
I found that people were less offended if I acknowledged the inappropriateness of what I just said and then questioned it. It seemed like I was sorry for what I said, and I was...
..at first.
Then I started testing how far I could go with it. I encouraged friends to try the same. In most cases, the results were the same--as long as we followed up each inappropriate statement with a pause and a, "What?" People were less likely to be offended.
Of course this is nothing scientific--we didn't have much of a control group, and I imagine that after a while our sampling group became more and more accustomed to offensive statements--but I notice many of my friends still do it...and still get away with it.
So try it!
the "aw shucks" smile
I watched P.S., I Love You Sunday night. The premise is Hilary Swank's husband dies, and, unbeknownst to her, he arranged to have a series of letters sent to her after his death.
That's pretty creepy, but what really bothered me was that every guy had that damned "Aw, Shucks" smile plastered on his face.
You know the one: head bowed, eyes looking up, grin toothy, and eyebrows playfully arched. It's the kind of look a lounge singer gives a hostile audience or conman gives his mark, but for some reason it's become very popular among handsome, dark-haired, scruffy, brogue-ish men. Bonus points if the guy's wearing jeans and a t-shirt and plays the guitar.
The idea behind it is to convey humility, but really it just makes everyone around the person wonder what the Hell he's up to.
Real men, like Harrison Ford or Batman or Judge Joe Brown, wouldn't be caught dead wearing it. In fact, the only guy who's ever flashed it without being asked to hand in his man card was George C. Scott in The Hustler...and he died years later.
So I can't recommend the movie.
"tie one off" meaning
Despite the phrases' prepositions being the opposite of each other, "tie one off" seems to be synonymous with "tie one on," which the Urban Dictionary defines as:
- To get drunk or start drinking before the hang over from last night has worn off.
Thus having something to "tie onto"
To tie one drinking session to another before the effects/consequences of the last have expired.
"Tired and emotional" is a chiefly British, Irish or Australian euphemism for "drunk". It was popularised by the British satirical magazine Private Eye in 1967 after being used in a spoof diplomatic memo to describe the state of Labour Cabinet minister George Brown, but is now used as a stock phrase: British slander and libel law makes it unwise ever to directly refer to someone as being drunk unless it has been scientifically proven (e.g. through a breathalyser test). The Guardian describes it as having joined the "phrases that are part of every journalist's vocabulary". Because of this widespread interpretation, one source cautions professional British journalists against its use as "even if the journalist ... meant it literally", it could be considered defamatory.
talking ≠ communicating
My Sister and Dad are the decision-makers; my mother and I are passive.
If the four of us are dining out, Sister and Dad decide where; Mom and I just nod our heads.
In fact, Mom and I are so passive that when it's just the two of us, we go to ridiculous lengths to avoid being the decision maker. Say the two of us are visiting a museum: Even if every aspect of the trip's been planned out far in advance--from when to leave the house to what driving route to take to who holds the door for whom--Mom and I will try to outdo each other in not doing anything. In fact, we've gone to such apathetic extremes that violent arguments have erupted and whole trips have been canceled.
Mom: The directions say to turn here.
Nat: Here?
Mom: I don't know...
Nat: Should I turn?
Mom: I think that's what the directions say...
Nat: Where did you get those directions?
Mom: Uh...I don't know...
Nat: Did you go to MapQuest?
Mom: I don't know!
Nat: What exit did we just pass?
Mom: I didn't see. Could you see it?
Nat: Maybe.
Mom: Where are we going, anyway?
But today we hit a new low.
Mom and Dad had tentatively planned to come up to TC and take me out to dinner, but the recent winds have made driving conditions a bit dangerous. So Mom and I have been e-mailing back and forth all day, trying to pass the decision of whether they should drive up or not to the other guy.
The nadir was reached sometime around 1:30 this afternoon, when Mom started claiming I was physically ill to avoid making a decision.
Mom: You want us to come up there?
Nat: Well, the winds are tough, but you have an SUV. How are things down there?
Mom: Well, we can make it up, but you sound tired--are you feeling well? Do you want to rest and we can come up another time?
Nat: Do I sound tired?
Mom: Your throat sounds sore. Do you have a cold? (Keep in mind this is an e-mail exchange)
Nat: I don't think so.
Mom: Maybe.
Nat: So what's the plan again?
sh!t lists
Lots of people keep sh!t lists, and most likely they keep them to themselves.
But how about this as an experiment: Maintain an open sh!t list--that is, make it public.
Explain and cite concrete evidence as to why each entry made the list, and post it where people can easily find and identify it as your sh!t list.
If your sh!t list is public knowledge, you're probably going to give each selection more thought than if it were private. Who knows? You may discover that you were in the wrong.
Likewise, it gives the people on your sh!t list the chance to defend and even redeem themselves, making forgiveness all the more likely.
And if the person is just outrightly unscrupulous, why keep that knowledge to yourself? Others can benefit from your bad experiences and avoid that person.
Libel may be an issue, but that's easy enough to avoid.
HT to Ben Casnocha.
bon nots
Remember the Seinfeld episode where George is scarfing down a seafood cocktail and a co-worker tells him, "The oceans called; they're running out of shrimp"? And George spends the rest of the episode trying to recreate the encounter so he can deliver the retort, "Well, the jerk-store called; they're running out of you!"
The punchline is that George's retort doesn't work because it really isn't all that funny--in fact, none of George's friends, from Jerry, to Elaine, to Kramer, think it's funny, and even George himself doesn't really laugh at it; he's just obsessed with getting a chance to deliver it.
You ever come across similar words or phrases? Something only a friend, family member, or acquaintance (or maybe even you) thinks is funny but everyone else finds trite or obnoxious.
Our parents use the term "'puter" to refer to a computer. They've been doing it for years, and as far as we know, it's never gotten a laugh. We don't find it funny, our sister doesn't find it funny--we don't think either of them finds it funny. But for some weird reason they still use it.
A Little Economics Humor
There's New Keynesians, Neo-Keyensians -- anyone know what "neo" means? -- Post-Keynesians and unhyphenated Post Keynesians. I was at a macro conference and one of the speakers referred to himself as an "Unhpyphenated Post Keynesian." When I gave my lecture, just to have a little fun, I introduced myself as an "Unhyphenated Austrian Economist" -- the audience wondered where the hyphen wasn't supposed to go.
--Roger Garrison
Are women in red are sexier?
In a series of five studies, about 150 heterosexual men photographs of women framed in red, white, gray, green, or blue, or with the woman in a red or blue shirt.
On a 7-point scale, with 1 being the least sexy and 7 a white-hot sex goddess, the color red added about 1.25 points to the rating.Read the whole thing here--we can't help thinking of this exchange from Ed Wood:
"There's also a possibility -- a rather provocative possibility -- that there's a deeply embedded sort of tendency for heterosexual men to see red as an attraction cue because that's what happens in the wild." For example, the rumps of some primates turn red during ovulation, so it's possible that men have some tiny portion deep in their brain that recognizes red as a mating symbol -- even though it's an association that hasn't come in handy for a few million years.
Bela Lugosi: And you know what else? The women... the women preferred the traditional monsters.
Edward D. Wood, Jr.: The women? Huh?
Bela Lugosi: The pure horror, it both repels, and attracts them, because in their collective unconsciousness, they have the agony of childbirth. The blood. The blood is horror.
Edward D. Wood, Jr.: You know, I never thought of that.
Bela Lugosi: Take my word for it. If you want to make out with a young lady, take her to see Dracula.
Computer Ettiquette
A few weeks ago, one of our neighbors asked us to help them with a computer problem. It was easy enough—all they wanted to know was how to resize their browser. The whole thing took about 10 minutes, and everybody was happy.
Unfortunately that made us the Go-to Guy for our neighbor’s computer problems, and the next time they asked for help it wasn’t as simple as clicking the right spot on a window.
Now, somewhere amid those three hours reading up on the virus and downloading the program to fix it and figuring out some way to get the program onto my neighbor’s computer (as the virus both restricted Internet access and periodically restarted their computer) and manually making sure all traces of the virus were gone, we reflected on our situation: Here we were, after spending about 12 hours at work, using up three of the approximately five hours of free time we have in a given workday busting our ass all the while knowing we weren’t getting anything in return.
This wasn’t the first time we’d done something like this either, and if you were born some time within the past 30 or so years and you have parents or relatives or any number of technologically disinclined people nearby, we're sure you’ve gone through something similar. Our poor uncle, whose a good deal past 30, works for IBM, and he’s spent far more than his fair share of vacation time fixing the laptops, desktops, towers, blackberries, iPods, iPhones, and anything else electrical or tronic of everyone within a two-mile radius of his summer cottage. The bottom line: If you’re good with computers, other people who aren’t think you’re obligated to help them.
Now if helping them were always something as simple as resizing a window or copying something onto a disk or whatever, that’s fine, and we’ll be happy to do it—but that’s very different from removing a virus, installing hardware, raising your hard drive from the dead, and a lot of other massive computer-related timesinks, especially when that help is free.
And a lot of—we’ll call them Computer-Disinclined—people don’t seem to appreciate the difference, even if it’s a difference of several hours. The only time we’ve ever seen them notice is when we suggest they take it to a professional: They look at us strangely and we see the gerbils begin to trot on the exercise wheels in their head: Why take it to a professional who's gonna charge me God-knows how much when I have someone right here who knows computers?
They're called Paid Professionals for a reason, and if you're willing to shell out God-knows-how-much-more to a doctor or automechanic for their opinion, why draw the line with computer advice? After all, fixing up a computer is usually just a matter of following the directions, so if it's so easy, why not do it yourself? And if you truly are convinced that this is something you/they can’t do, then put your money where your mouth is/foot down and start paying/charging for the help. We did, and we got a pack of smokes out of the deal!
A great reminder of how words can often fail us. We don't think it's an inherently bad thing.
HT to Megan McArdle
The End Is Near?
Unlike the typical subsistence farmer, who would clearly understand the end result of his work, Thoreau claims not even to know the point or final goal of all his labor.
--SparkNotes
"End result"
If this isn't redundant--since a result is an end--what is it?
When we hear someone refer to an "end result," they're usually referring to a single result--seldom more than three. For example, the SparkNotes quotation suggests that the typical subsistence farmer's understanding of the end result of his work is a harvested crop.
That's one result of his work, but the adjective "end" means "final or ultimate"; and is the final or ultimate result of his work simply a harvested crop?
Say the farmer's work consisted of choosing a crop, tending it, and then harvesting it. Say he chose to farm wheat instead of corn or sorghum. Say the results of his choice meant more money for the wheat seeder and, consequently, more wheat on the market. The farmer likely takes this into account because it probably bears on his choices, but let's go a bit further.
Imagine that the wheat seeder decides to purchase a new pair of shoes with the farmer's money. It'd be very unlikely that the farmer would take that into account. Or that the cobbler, with his money from the wheat seeder, decides to invest in wheat futures. That would certainly impact the farmer's choices, but it'd seem impossible for him to know this before making them.
We could imagine a lot more resulting from this one choice, because we think that the "final and ultimate" result of something is ultimately all encompassing--all the results of one's actions. And that's something we--and a few others--don't think anyone can understand.
“But the reality is that [Barack Obama] runs on a populist program that says very little of substance, except that he represents hope and change.”
We don’t think even that’s substantial. “Hope” and “Change,” along with “Stability,” “Initiative,” “Experience,” “Progressiveness,” and all the other abstract virtues politicians profess to have are pitifully vague. Obama’s website saccharinely claims to be powered by “Hope and supporters like you”—we’re guessing it’s probably more the latter, but “Hope” receives noticeably more emphasis; John McCain links to a tale of his “Courageous Service” where surfers can “watch the incredible story of a true American hero who is singularly prepared to lead”—evidently when true American heroes are elected president they don’t need vice presidents, Congress, the American people…; Hillary Clinton’s website was currently unavailable.
Hillary [referring to Obama]: You gave a great speech in 2002 opposing the war in Iraq…it was after having given that speech, by the next year the speech was off your Web site. By the next year, you were telling reporters that you agreed with President Bush in his conduct of the war. And by the next year, when you were in the Senate, you were voting to fund the war time after time after time.
McCain: By the way, Senator Obama, it's a “flak” jacket.
The differences are quite…epic. If the candidates truly wish us take them at their words, do they truly expect us to believe that a nine-minute video of their self-described heroism qualifies them for office, or that a misplaced “c” disqualifies their opponent? How silly can we get?
Obama: I’m sorry, Senator, but I’m afraid you can’t say that; my campaign’s trademarked that phrase.
Obama: Actually “Vote for Hillary Clinton: Hope for
McCain: And my campaign’s trademarked all the attacks with your name: “Hillary Clinton: Bad for
Obama: Oh [checks list], you can’t say that, either.
McCain: You know, it’d probably be best if you just didn’t talk.
Obama: And is that what you want,
McCain: Like education, something my esteemed opponent has time and again proven lacking of. This is a man who, since he could first write, has consistently misspelled his own first name B-A-R-A-C-K. By the way, Senator Obama, it’s B-A-R-A-K.
Obama: It’s not my first name that’s important; it’s my middle name: H-O-P-E.
McCain: Well, you can’t spell the one thing a president needs without my first name, John—for J-O-H-O-N-E-S-T-Y.
Obama: Well, I bet you can’t spell this [throws a punch; chaos ensues].
HT to one of our favorite blogs...but you probably could have figured that out for yourselves.
5+5=5?
Shouldn't the High Five really be named the High Ten? All things being equal, it's really ten fingers slapping each other rather than five. Wikiepedia.org defines the High Five as "usually meant to communicate mutual satisfaction to spectators or to extend congratulations from one person to another": It's a joint effort between the two High-Fiving parties, so shouldn't the gesture be named after end product instead of each party's individual contribution?
