We live in an age of forgetting.
language
Storm Warning \ Watch \ Pondering
Feb 8th
I still get confused over what’s worse: a storm warning or a storm watch. Usually, watch signals more immediacy than warn. If a car is about to hit your friend, you wouldn’t say “Beware the incoming car,” you’d say “Watch out for that car!” You watch things that are going on in the present, like watching a TV show, and give warnings about things that may happen (“Stomp your feet one more time and I’ll…)
But that’s not how they roll in storm school. A storm warning is more serious than a storm watch. Watch is used to mean “keep an eye out for”, like a guard on the night watch. And warning, as far as I can tell, in storm talk means “You’re about to get fucked.”
By the way, a winter storm warning was just issued for D.C.
I think we need clearer storm warnings. Instead of “storm watch, ” if a storm may hit but we’re not positive it will, it should be “smells like a storm”. Instead of “storm warning”, if a storm will hit but hasn’t hit yet, it should be a “storm a-coming.” And both notices should always be delivered by an unflappable elderly farmer in overalls called Old Pete.
“Hey, Pete. What’s the weather look like tomorrow? Smells like a storm?”
“Oh, I’d say it’s more than a smell. Storm’s a-coming, you can bet your hat on it, I say.”
I’d certainly trust a weather forecaster named Old Pete more than some named Topper Shutt. What the hell’s a Topper? On another note, how soon is it before the D.C. area goes completely ape shit over the amount of snow we’re getting? Overall, people have handled the weather well,
What I Thought About While Half-Asleep This Morning
Dec 3rd
How big of a Steve do you have to be to be called Big Steve?
I’m thinking 6′4″, 220 lbs., lots of muscles, minimum. Also, you can’t be too accomplished. If the President was Steve (not that anyone named Steve could become President, that’s ridiculous), but if in some bizarro universe, where we no longer cared about the names of our leaders and a larger-than-average Steve became President, he wouldn’t be Big Steve. He’d be Mr. President.
So Big Steve can’t have a high-status job. Also, age 45 tops. A 62-year-old man named Big Steve is just sad.
I wonder if a Big Steve has ever met another Big Steve. Someone yells “Hey, Big Steve!” and they both spin around, locking eyes. Confusion, surprise…excitement? Anger? Maybe one feels relief that he is no longer alone, the other furious at the identity crisis thrust upon him.
When you’re name is Big Steve, you are given a gift: a part of your identity defined in the closest approximation there is to linguistic stone . Even if you lose your job, forget your purpose in life, and begin to drift into an existence where the boundaries of days become blurred and the future fog and mist, you will never completely lose yourself, for you are big, and you are Steve, and being special is its own kind of purpose.
Yet if you met another Big Steve…all that would be thrown in question. One could feel relieved: “There is another like me!” And just as easily feel angry at having part of one’s uniqueness stolen as easily as it was granted. I feel though that the latter Big Steve would be the smaller man.
Words I Am Already Tired of
Oct 3rd
1. Wall Street
2. Main Street
3. Any combination of Wall Street and Main Street in the same sentence.
Where did this gelatinous blob of bland rhetoric come from? “We have to help Main Street” and other variations have turned into the “Support the Troops” of 2003, a meaningless phrase that both sides feel compelled to say while arguing for their positions.
Who lives on a Main Street anyway? I’ve seen every street name except Main Street. And who would even want to live in a town so uncreative that the best name they could think of for their main street was Main Street?
“Hey, where do you live?”
“Town.”
“Yeah, but which one?”
“No, it’s called Town. That’s what we named it.”
“I don’t get it. Where in town do you live?”
“Alley Way.”
“You live in an alley?”
“No, I live in Alley Way. It’s real easy to find. Off of Side Road. Next to Circle Turn. You can’t miss it.”
“Someone is missing something.”
I hope there’s a town somewhere that named their smallest, most out-of-the-way road Main Street. That’s a town I can believe in.
Eye Off the Ball
Mar 6th
An exceedingly common refrain when criticizing the invasion of Iraq is that “we took our eye off the ball” (the Taliban in Afghanistan). A web headline on The Washington Post’s site today is “Eye On The Ball, America.” It’s about the Mideast peace process.
Are we so stupid that we are incapable of talking about foreign policy without using sports metaphors? It’s not even a smart sports metaphor. “Keep your eye on the ball” is what Little League coaches yell at eight-year-olds who are too distracted by that dog licking himself on the sideline to pay attention. It’s a miracle President Bush said “Mission Accomplished” in 2003 rather than “Touchdown!”
This isn’t an idle point. Language both reflects and influences our thought processes. Our thoughts can only be as complex as the words we use to utter them. When politicians say, “We gotta get the bad guys,” do you know what they’re thinking? It’s not, “We need to judiciously marshal our resources to target radical Islamic fundamentalists that wish to harm us without inflaming the world and creating a bigger problem than what we started with.” The thought is, “We gotta get the bad guys.” Or perhaps even “Bad guys bad” if they are getting linguistic help from a teleprompter.
A large part of the reason political discussions are so simple-minded and devoid of substance is because of the language politicians use. Is “Pullout now / We can’t surrender” any different from “Tastes great / Less filling”? By the time a complex discussion gets hacked by television media into 15 second sound bites and repeated ad nauseam on 24-hour cable networks or by ideologues on political talk shows or radio, it doesn’t resemble a discussion anymore. It’s just sloganeering, and the small percentage of people trying to think independently and evaluate the available information wonder why they have so much trouble doing so.
I don’t know how much to blame politicians for this. When they say something nuanced, their words get twisted and distorted by their opponents. If it’s not a snappy sound bite, news networks will prune qualifications and conditions from the original statement until it becomes one. And that what gets remembered. There is something about human psychology that makes us receptive to short, simple messages (see: Basis For All of Advertising). It’s a shame few politicians point this out and at least try to raise the level of discourse.
Our Malined Friend
Oct 27th
I feel sorry for the toilet seat. It’s always the comparison point for grossness.
Every few months there’s a story on how Everyday Object X has more bacteria than a toilet seat. “Average keyboard has more bacteria than a toilet seat.” “Calling Dr. Gross–mobile phone has more bacteria than a toilet seat.” “Why don’t you have your baby lick a toilet? Pacifiers have more bacteria than gas station commode.”
If there are so many objects more disgusting than a toilet seat, maybe it’s time to back off the insults to our porcelain friend. It’s doing something right. It is beating our cell phones in the clean contest, and I don’t know about you, but I don’t poop on my cell phone.
What would I use as a substitute? A far question to ask. If I were a scientist releasing a meaningless study because my company’s PR department wants to generate publicity from a media machine that hungers for attention-grabbing stories that require almost no research or effort to report, I’d….well, actually, I’d kill myself, because my life would be a hollow shell, empty of a long-forgotten dream to do something meaningful.
Or…I would use an object that no one would suspect harbors bacteria, and give people two things to fret about. “Office keyboards have more bacteria than corn!” What? Corn has bacteria?
Blackwater: We Just Sound Evil
Oct 9th
Rule #1 for corporations: choose a name that doesn’t sound evil.
I call this the Hollywood Movie Test. Here is how it works:
YOU: “Hey, we’re thinking of naming our business ‘MegaCorp.’ “
FRIEND: “MegaCorp? Wasn’t that the name of the evil corporation in RoboCop?”
TEST FAILED.
It doesn’t matter whether the name actually made a guest appearance as an evil corporation in a movie. The fact that the idea easily comes to imagination is enough.
That’s how I know Blackwater, the private military company providing additional security and logistic services in Iraq, is evil. Blackwater sounds like one of the corrupted areas in Lord of the Rings. Make a right at Isengard and head 1/2 a league south of Fangorn. You can’t miss it. The water is black. Huh? Yeah. Completely black. Symbol of the absolute corruption and exploitation of nature.
Why are you heading there anyway? Oh. Okaaaay. No, no, I’m not saying it’s a bad name of a company. It’s just…well…depends what you do. Do you work for Sauron? No? Saruman? No. Okay. What’s your core business? Uh-huh. Yeah. So it’s not polluting the environment and instilling dread in the hearts of men, dwarfs, and hobbits? Maybe you should rethink the name then. Something with more pop. What’s that? “Hobbit Punchers, Inc.”–no, not that type of pop.
If you want any real information about Blackwater and the shooting incident they were involved in with Iraqi police, The Washington Post has a nice repository of information on the company. The House voted overwhelmingly last Thursday to place all private contractors working in Iraq and other combat zones under the jurisdiction of U.S. courts. Which begs the question, why wasn’t this done at the start?
Pluot, Roman Emperor of Fruit
Sep 6th
I was in the supermarket with my Mom when I saw a small, dark red and violet fruit new to my eyes. My Mom headed to the pyramid of purplish fruit and began shoveling them into a bag. She moved fast, efficiently filling the bag with a dozen fruit. “Those must be pretty good, Mom.” I am probably misremembering the next part of the conversation, because it doesn’t make any sense: “I don’t know. I’ve never had them before.”
The fruit is a pluot. I know for some of you, I might have well say “I found this new fruit called a ‘grape’, and boy is it juicy!” But my fruit horizon is narrow. I mostly eat apples and bananas, and only have a vague memory of seeing one before.
The pluot is a hybrid of a plum and an apricot. It’s delicious, juicy and sweet on the outside and pleasantly sour on the inside.
Poor name, though. Pluot conjures the image of a little-known Roman emperor, one who lived a short-lived an uneventful life. Or of a shunned planet trying to sneak back in the solar system with a shoddy disguise.
I have a much better name. If anyone wants to use it, we can work something out. I’ll trade it to you for a lifetime supply of Apriyums.
Hurricane Season
Aug 24th
Tropical depression is an appropriate name. Hurricanes are always getting downgraded to tropical depressions. That is depressing. You’re at the height of your destructive career. You’re going places. People are paying attention. Then you get the call from Channel 7s’ Doug Hill: “Sorry, kid. You just don’t have it anymore. Next up: sports!”
If a storm got upgraded to a tropical depression, forecasters wouldn’t even be able to call it a tropical depression. It would be a Tropical Going Somewhere.
LOLCATZ
Aug 2nd
I love a good LOLCATZ. The purity of the term has been corrupted though by its too liberal application to almost any funny cat photo posted on the Internet. Internet authorities like Wikipedia offer mushy, open-armed definitions that allow cute, yarn-whacking kittens to dive into and pollute the LOLCATZ pool willy-nilly. It’s time to set the record straight.
First, there is a difference between LOLCATS and their purer form, LOLCATZ.
An LOLCAT is any photo of a cute cat along with an irony-free caption. Example (photo credit):
Awwww. Cute. LOL. But not LOLCATZ.
An LOLCATZ is a photo similar in content, but one that captures the aggressive stupidity found in some parts of the Internet, such as 12-year-old boys who grew with the Internet their entire lives. (photo credit: LOLcatz)
The best LOLCATZ photos have an in-your-face attitude. All of them employ crudely written captions and are obviously ironic. Finally, they are science-fiction, a dire vision of the Internet extrapolated from the online habits of a few people who haven’t been fully socialized.
Here is a short quiz. LOLCAT or LOLCATZ?
1. Vet Cat
2. Bullets Cat
3. Idea Cat
4. Chips Cat
5. Sharpie Cat
6. Cake cat
UPDATE:
Okay, since a few people asked, here are answers to the quiz:
1. Vet Cat LOLCATZ.
2. Bullets Cat LOLCATZ.
3. Idea Cat LOLCAT.
4. Chips Cat This one is borderline. If the caption were “im in ur can / eatin ur chips” it would definitely be an LOLCATZ. A cat stuffed in a Pringles can has a hint of violence to it, and the hint of aggression, whether it’s through the language or image, is what separates the LOL WHEATZ from the LOL CHAFF. As it stands though, it’s just a clever caption and a cute hat. Heart strings tugged. Ruling: LOLCAT.
5. Sharpie Cat Definitely a LOLCATZ. Perhaps a masterpiece of work, as it combines two jokes in one photo. If frat boys were cats, this is what they would do.
6. Cake cat LOLCAT, LOLCAT, LOLCAT. A little nauseating too, even by LOLCAT standards.
I’ll Get Back To It Later
Jun 19th
(As I’m going through my posts, I’m finding a few unfinished drafts of posts, most of which make little to no sense. This is one of them.)
The Police Police
“Yeah, I know you’re the police. But I’m the police police. That’s going to cost you 5 marshmallows. What’s that? Don’t have 5 marshmallows? Okay. $200. Plus another $100 for not having any marshmallows.”
“Don’t like it? Fine. Take it to Court Court.”
What is Systematic Torture?
May 30th
Is it worse than old-fashioned, seat-of-the-pants torture? If I’m ever tortured (it’s a possibility–I’m visiting Canada soon and have bushy eyebrows), I’d feel more comfortable with a systematic torture program. Perhaps this speaks to my lack of faith in man, but I’m not sure your average torturer is going to know what to do with a toaster and a bucket of water without a manual.
I hear the term often, most recently regarding a news report on an ACLU lawsuit against the U.S. government. What does it mean to we live in a time where accusations of “ordinary” torture isn’t shocking enough to grab our attention? When did torture become vanilla?
One could argue this is just the natural radicalization of language in a saturated media environment where subtlety and understatement tend to be drowned out by competitors for attention. But I think it speaks to something else, a new comfort with the language, images, and idea of torture. Ten years ago, can you imagine our reaction to a news report that the government is arresting U.S. citizens and extraditing them to another country, without trial or being accused of a crime, all to avoid public scrutiny and violating U.S. law?
Yet today torture appears regularly in action movies, and TV shows like 24 and Lost. I’ve seen comic strips on torture and Daily Show bits on the subject. I am not saying we are insensitive to the subject. Most comedy has satirized the U.S. government’s use of torture, not make light of the act. Yet I find it sad how pervasive the concept of torture is today in the public conscious. I suspect even after our government cleans up is act, a lingering familiarity with the idea of torture will remain, another small stain on our minds.
The Man Hates Paper
May 25th
(from the Washington Gas website)
Washington Gas: We can make anything sound a little creepy.
My paper comrades: arise against your masters! Deliver upon them a thousand tiny cuts! Remember the Wastebasket!
The Petulant Pessimist
May 3rd
“I hate lemonade. I don’t want to make it.”
The Optimist’s Optimist
“I don’t need to make lemonade. I love lemons!”
The Literalist
“How is making lemonade going to help me get through breast cancer?”
The Polite Cola Drinker
“Life, don’t get me wrong. I appreciate the lemons. But lemonade isn’t my thing. It’s still sour. I mean, it comes from lemons. I’ll tell you what. Next Pepsi, I’ll squeeze a little in.
The Metaphorist
“Lemons, bad event. Lemonade, using the bad event to spur something good in life. But what does the rest mean? Okay, this is going to sound weird, but stick with me. The sugar: positive attitude. The stirrer: motivation and support. The container: the limits of individualism. Oh, come on, You didn’t even think about it. Look, I said it would sound weird. Fine, do you have a better explanation? Yeah. Didn’t think so.”
The Lemon
“Oooh, that feels good. Hey, what are you doing with that knife?”
On Lemon Seeds
“When life gives you lemons, life also gives you a dozen little miniature lemon packets embedded in the original lemon, just in case you have any hope of not being completely screwed.”
Gardening Advice Needed
Feb 27th
I’m living in a house with a yard for the first time in years. It’s a small yard, but enough for a few flowers.
I haven’t made a garden before and don’t know what to do. What are some spring flowers I can get that are easy to plant and take care of? What is the prep work I need to do? Do I need a Garden Weasel? I hope so. They look weaselly fun. Hey, weaselly is a real word. That’s boomtastic. Damn. Right-click, Add to Dictionary. YES. Boomtastic.
Random Roundup
Jan 4th
- I haven’t read it yet, but I glanced through Dave Barry’s “2006 Year in Review” column. The Washington Post Magazine highlighted some of the sentences in yellow. Look, I like Dave Barry, but highlighting a Dave Barry joke is like putting glitter on a stripper.
- I’m writing a few proposals to companies about my ideas for new products. One of them is to Hostess, for “Hostess $$ugh Balls.” A box of miniature doughnut balls. Most of them are filled with a delicious lemon custard, but a few are filled with real dough!
I’m picturing on the box the Twinkie Cowboy kicking his heels while holding two fistfuls of cash dough. This is the only relation cash has to the product. The winning balls will just be filled with regular dough, so not only will the consumer be confused, she will also be disappointed, as the regular doughnut balls are inferior to the custard-filled one.
- Ever since the advent of cell phones, I have been tempted to ride up and down in an elevator and have fake phone conversations when people walk in.
“He’s all whiny, like ‘You can’t fire me, I have cancer.’ So I tell him, ‘No. What you have is no job. Now get out of here, baldy.’ What? [...] Well, he wasn’t completely bald. But he was going to get there in a few weeks, so I went with it.’ “
“How should I know where to put the body?” [notices other riders] “Hey, call me back in a few minutes.” [...] “I’m in an elevator.” [...] “They didn’t hear anything.” [...] “Are you crazy? I’m not killing someone else.” [...] “They’re not even on the elevator anymore.” [mouths to other riders, run]
Recent Comments