We live in confusing times, so it’s nice to know that some people are working hard to explain things, even if their explanations sometimes overshoot the mark. Here’s an example:
Shower caps do more than add fashion flair! Who knew?
This screenshot is a few years old, but it’s worth another look:
I have it on good authority that the dead former Treasury secretaries declined to comment.
My friend Constance and her husband noticed this headline:
And the galaxies that aren’t in the universe? How old are they?
One more:
Has anyone tried COLLABORATING apart, in this CHANGING WORLD or in a non-universe galaxy? If so, let me know how it works out for you.
Also let me know if you spot an interesting sign or headline. In this universe, those of us who are living (with or without dry hair) should be collaborating together.
Travel enlightens the mind. Reading signs while traveling lightens the mood. I certainly smiled when I saw these! The first comes from my daughter-in-law, who snapped this photo in Japan:
How clever to warn walkers that someone may barrel into them unexpectedly! New York City should post this sign on every corner. Mid-block, too.
Here’s an intriguing subway placard:
I really can’t imagine what PRE-HEALTH might be. Is this something you study while you’re sick, preparing for the day when you’re not? Or do the courses cover recuperation? (Theories welcome.)
Now for a dance-school ad:
BABY MUSIC is as mysterious to me as PRE-HEALTH. Does this school enroll diapered dancers? Do they teach synchronized burping? (Theories welcome here also.)
I saw this one is in a public library:
Obviously, someone had a good time peeling off the letters S and C. I wish the peeler had left the C in place so I could watch library patrons peer downwards to the left in search of Santa helpers. Alternatively, I’d erase heck so the sign would urge readers to let their inner elves shine.
Whether you’re vacationing in a different country or walking through your own neighborhood, I wish you happy travels and encourage you to snap signs you see and send them to me.
I generally get snarky when I see a odd turn of phrase, as everyone who has read this blog knows. Sometimes, though, I go into editor mode. How would I reword? Occasionally I’m stumped, as I was when this teaser popped up on my screen:
Books you should watch? I don’t think so! But if you move this description to follow TV shows, you solve one problem only to create another, because now you’ve got TV shows you should watch based on books. This version makes me think of viewers perched atop (based on)stacks of books. Also, in your lifetime implies there’s another viewing option. Does heaven offer streaming services?
Here’s a photo my friend Constance sent. It’s a advertisement for Coppola’s, an Upper West Side restaurant. Pay close attention to the bottom left:
If I were painting that sign, I’d place the apostrophe — well, I don’t know where I’d place it! Apostrophes and vertical words don’t easily coexist. Move the apostrophe one line up, after the A, and the S comes across as an afterthought. Drop it completely and you break a punctuation rule. What to do?
Another location problem:
The surf that was used for D-Day? Nope. The Allies didn’t take a surf from a damp warehouse and install it at the landing site. The best rewording I can come up with is developed a method used on D-Day for predicting the size of the surf — not a catchy phrase, for sure.
Okay, readers. It’s your turn. Revision suggestions welcome!
Why are writers so drawn to repetition? Is it the worry that one word won’t get the meaning across? (Maybe that’s why “tense and nervous” is such a popular expression!) Granted, repetition can be beautifully emphatic and reassuring, but these signs go a little too far.
Here’s one I spotted on a restroom door:
I had intended to close door open before reading this sign, but I was persuaded to close door shut instead.
This notice frequently pops up when I’m scrolling through articles classified as “breaking news”:
New updates are so much better than old updates, don’t you think?
Now for a hotel ad:
What’s the difference between a short 5 minute walk and a long 5 minute walk? I’d like Einstein to weigh in on the relativity aspect, but he’s not available. Any physicist reading this post is welcome to offer an explanation.
These days, when friends ask me how I am, I offer an overly dramatic account of my recent bout with Covid, for which a boxing referee would immediately award Covid a TKO. It’s taken me three weeks to get off the mat . . . er, sofa. (See what I mean about overly dramatic?) Unable to pursue my usual pastimes, I’ve been combing through my backlog of photos. Here are a few I find questionable, in that each gives rise to a number of queries.
Take this one, for example:
Is there anyone walking around with only half a head? If so, are highlights really that person’s biggest concern? Also, if you blowdry half a head, does the other half stay wet?
Next up is a photo snapped by my friend Orli Shaham, a renowned pianist:
Her comment: “They must be delicious after they’ve been smoked.” My question: Is this concert venue affiliated with the restaurant in my neighborhood that keeps trying to hire a grilled man?
In these troubled times, most of us have questions about the future. I certainly do, along with a couple of questions about this sign:
My questions: How much for a regular Palm? And who decides whether someone has a Special Palm?
Last one, an excerpt from a letter a co-op board sent to my friend Constance:
Question from Michael, Constance’s husband: What do we do when we have used up both hands? My questions: Do waived hands hang out with waived rights? Or does the building management confiscate hands that have been waived? Actually, scratch that last question. I don’t want to know.
I do want you to send me photos, if you spot any questionable signs. Be well!
For more than four years, I was a “Novid” — someone who hadn’t had Covid. Two weeks ago, the little red line finally appeared on my test strip. Feeling not terrible but not great, I spent the short periods of time between naps examining the language of this disease. “I got Covid,” people say, but it seems more accurate to say “Covid got me.” Ditto for “catching”: I wasn’t standing around with a mitt, like a Yankee outfielder. The virus caught me.
As I recovered, I roamed around the Oxford English Dictionary, a word-nerd’s playground. The OED defines “contagious” as “”where the notion of mutual contact is present.” Notion? I didn’t get an idea. I got a sweaty, exhausting experience. Another definition of “contagious” is “charged with the germs of an infectious disease” — as if I’d run up a hefty credit-card bill (crowded subways, theater performances, restaurants) and now had to pay. Fair enough.
This wouldn’t be a proper Grammarian-in-the-City post without a couple of signs. Here’s one from the pre-vaccine era:
Why practicing? It’s not like playing the piano!
Here’s another, same time period:
Nice to know that you can stay on the sidewalk, but your FACE COVERINGIS REQUIRED TO ENTER THE BUILDING. Not sure how FACE COVERING will get there, given the absence of legs, but hey, it’s REQUIRED.
Thankfully, that era is over, though Covid is not. We’ve learned to live with it — actually, to live through it, if we’re lucky. I am, and I’m grateful. I wish you good health!
Inflation is real, but bargains still exist. Take this one, for instance, an offer from a coffee shop:
Only $1.95 for a lifetime’s worth of water! The downside is obvious, though. All those plastic bottles are (a) terrible for the environment and (b) time-consuming to uncap.
At first glance, this too is a spectacular bargain:
A refrigerator pre-filled w/Food? Excellent! Or awful, depending on the kind of food in the refrigerator and the customer’s taste. What if you open the 4-Dr to find only brussels sprouts? I happen to like brussels sprouts, but I know some people would prefer to eat almost any other vegetable, including the plastic ones that toddlers play with. And how much food are we talking about? One pork chop? A whole roasted pig? At 27.8-cu ft, this refrigerator could hold either.
“Time is money,” as the saying goes, so this too is a bargain:
Long week.
A WEEK that runs from Aug 11 — Sept 11 gives you thirty days for the price of seven. Not bad. Unless, of course, you get paid by the week.
This sign is from a store specializing in bargains:
Not to be a party pooper, but how can something cost More & Less A Dollar? I suspect the shop owner means More or LessA Dollar, but that’s not helpful either. Every price in the universe is More or Less than A Dollar. And if you apply that formula, does an item that sells for $10 elsewhere cost $11 or $9 here?
I’m shopping for another bargain: your photos of silly signs. Send them to me at grammarianinthecity@outlook.com. For me they’ll be free — truly a bargain.
I can’t be sure who sponsored, created, posted, or, in one instance, chalked these signs. I can only tell you what I assume. The first arrived via my friend Constance:
Cuisine by Emily Bronte? After she finished writing Wuthering Heights?
I spotted this one on First Avenue:
I assume this declaration comes from Rene Magritte, who needed a change after painting this:
The next one was posted on the window of a nearly empty store:
As you see, the Creative Preposition Society is taking its business OT a new location. Or maybe UP OT?
My friend Deborah found this one:
Spa amenities provided by the Passive-Aggressive Association, don’t you think?
I assume you spot some odd signs, too. Please take a moment to send them to me at grammarianinthecity@outlook.com.
Living in New York City has taught me that just about anything is possible. I’ve witnessed — really, I have ! — a pedestrian taking advantage of a rainstorm to shampoo her hair, a subway argument being simultaneously translated into Chinese, Spanish, and Russian by fellow passengers, and a briefcase-toting adult wearing a tutu. Somehow, though, I can’t see the messages on these signs as anything other than unlikely, if not impossible.
First up is a sign I spotted at my local farmers’ market:
I’m not much of a drinker, but I can see the appeal of Locally sourced Whiskey, be it Single Malt or Peated. What makes me groan is Grown. (Sorry, couldn’t resist the pun.) Is there a field of Whiskey bushes sprouting near NYC? Near anywhere? Or are we talking about inebriated ghosts who live locally?
My older granddaughter spotted this sign and highlighted the phrase Costumers Only:
Unlikely restriction, for sure. What also catches my attention is the command to STOP UTENSIL SPAM. Is the store campaigning against ultra-processed, canned ham? Unlikely. But so is the only alternative. According to my dictionary, SPAM refers to a large-scale email campaign. Who knew that a UTENSIL could access a computer! I wonder what sort of message a UTENSIL would send out. An invitation to the Tine-Appreciation Society? A public service announcement about sharp plastic knives?
One more:
This restaurant has been Grand Opening since 1991. That has to be a world record.
In the likely event that you come across an unlikely message on a sign, please send me a photo.
I spend a lot of time watching detective shows. (Side point: Be super alert if you live in or visit a picturesque British village. The murder rate there seems to be extremely high.) On most shows, the answers are clear by the end of the episode. Maybe that’s why I like to watch them: I’m a fan of certainty, which is definitely not a characteristic of the signs in this post.
First up is a notice I spotted on the door of a tenement in my neighborhood. For non-NYers, I should explain that many NYC restaurants, hoping to attract takeout customers, hire people to distribute paper menus to apartment buildings. It’s not uncommon for residents to wade through piles of paper between the outer, unlocked door and the inner, key-only entry. Annoying for sure, but I must admit I can’t imagine any scenario that fits this sign:
DANGER? Really? There might be DANGER if MENUS are present, because someone might slip on an unsteady pile. But surely there’s no DANGER in NO MENUS? Oh, wait! I just thought of a DANGER. With NO MENUS, someone might actually have to cook. But what’s with the graphic on the left? It looks like a cross between the “OK” sign and the “slippery surface” image, and I’m completely stumped.
This one was across the street from my favorite farmers’ market:
First, UWS is short for “Upper West Side,” a Manhattan neighborhood. Second, this sign appears on a store that will begin selling beauty products in SUMMER 2024.. All that is clear. But what is The Viral Hand Cream? A cream containing viruses? If so, which ones? I am not a fan of e-Coli or Covid. Somehow, I don’t think I’m alone in that opinion.
This last sign was taped to a glass-fronted cabinet next to the door of a restaurant. Inside the cabinet was a menu, perhaps banished to that location after putting apartment dwellers in DANGER:
What needs to be in Print? How many copies are required? Who’s supposed to do the job? Does Kinko’s offer onsite visits — photocopying housecalls, so to speak? And why would someone use this method to communicate?
