Category Archives: Now trending

Observing and all too often criticizing language trends

Covid-ersary #5

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It’s been five years since Covid upended everything. In those first, awful months, NYC shopkeepers put up notices about masks and social distancing. I photographed those signs because it seemed important to have visual evidence of a historic moment. Now, as I go through my files from that deadly period, I find other signs that describe what was happening. This one, for instance:

Air Duck. That’s what lots of us were trying to do, but you can’t really Duck something that is (a) everywhere and (b) necessary for life. Instead of Duck-ing AIR we had

also known as sitting in the living room and Zooming emotions to anyone who’d listen, then listening to them VENTING IN PLACE. Essential workers didn’t have the luxury of staying IN PLACE, of course, either with or without VENTING. They had to show up, do their jobs, and hope they’d survive.

Then there’s this sign:

In normal times I’m a shop-daily person, mostly at local stores. Sheltering myself from the virus meant that I did indeed NEED A DELIVERY. And it was PERSONAL: My safety was at stake. It was also sad. I missed the quick conversations at checkout, the overheard remarks in the aisles, the chance to decide whether the vegetables were ripe. It was PERSONAL for those making a DELIVERY, too. Among the poorest New Yorkers, they didn’t have the luxury of staying home. Like essential workers, they had to do their jobs, however risky.

Finally, here’s a sign I spotted on a well-masked walk:

I’m not sure exactly what Pharmaceutical CATERING is or whether it would have eased the need for VENTING IN PLACE. I suspect more than a few people turned to Pharmaceutical help of the not-strictly-medicinal kind, though probably not on the level of CATERING.

I generally end my posts with a quip, but the pandemic requires something more serious. So I’ll just say this, which is as PERSONAL as it can be: We should all be grateful to those who put their lives on the line — doctors, nurses, cops, firefighters, DELIVERY personnel, and many more.

Why I Love New York

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I love my city for many reasons, prominent among them its mix of cultures, with interactions that are not always easy but inevitably interesting. A few pictures to prove my point:

This was taped to the window of a small grocery store. For the non-Spanish-speaking, Buscamos means “we are searching for.”

This was on sale at an iconic NYC market:

Europe (French) plus South America (PERU) equals New York.

If you’re too busy to cook, you might consider eating this:

I have to wonder what they put in an Irish Bento Box.

Not so welcoming to Japanese food is this restaurant:

I’m not sure whether they sell NO SUSHI or refuse to sell it IF U DON’T HAVE I.D. (The subtitle for this photo should be “The Problem with Bulleted Lists.”)

In keeping with the pace of life in my hometown, I’ll keep this post short and reserve the signs for Russian mathematics, Brazilian Wax, Japanese dry cleaning, and German Kitchens for another international, New York day.

Perfectly (Un)clear

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Because I’m a baseball fan, the Superbowl serves primarily to remind me that pitchers and catchers will soon report to spring training. That’s why I’m posting this puzzling clip from an article about a baseball game played last season:

I’ve read Lorenzen’s statement several times, and I still can’t figure out what he meant when he said that his miss needs to be in off.

Nor can I decode this pair of signs:

It’s clear that they sell CIGARETTES. In fact, they sell All brands of CIGARETTES. But I can’t figure out why NOW is underlined in the top sign and ALL in the second, or why there’s one line under the first CIGARETTES and two under the second. Increasing exasperation? Or does the store slap up a new sign every time someone asks whether they carry a particular brand?

Then there’s this ad. No problem decoding the first two lines, but the third is another story:

How, exactly, are feet relived? If they’re selling a return trip to an earlier era, sign me up. I’d like my feet to trek back in time to relive the early 70s. Maybe the 90s, too. Definitely not the 80s or most of this millennium. That much is clear, at least to me. How about you?

Report Card

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I haven’t posted lately, unsure how to respond to the sorry state of the world. Yes, I know the world is always in a sorry state, but to me the current moment seems worse than usual. How can a blog about silly signs respond? The answer I arrived at comes from the fact that I’m a teacher. Reader, can you determine what grade I’m giving the World by reading these signs?

This was on the window of an empty shop:

Got it? If not, here’s another clue:

By now you know, but I can’t resist showing you these, the first from a 24-hour restaurant and the second from a bagel shop:

Yes, World, your grade is D-. It’s that high only because I’m being lenient. I hope you, dear reader, are moved to show your fellow humans and your planet that they’re loved, that the fix-it department is never closed, and that you’ll make things better not by returning to the past but by employing the best, old-fashioned tools: hard work, commitment, and — this time rightly without a D, love.

Construction. Sigh.

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I’ve just gone through an apartment renovation (minor) and am currently enduring construction above me (major) and on the bricks outside my windows (monumental). Not to mention the massive structure going up on my corner and … well, let’s just say I don’t have a happy view of construction these days. Construction signs, though, bring a smile to my face. This one, for example:

Duly noted. But I have to ask: How do the owners of this site know that children have been warned? And why do they think the kids will listen?

Here’s another helpful sign:

Nice of the Seattle Department of Construction and [Inspections] to inform the public that someone is building zero Units with zero Parking.

I paid special attention to this one because my nickname is on it, albeit spelled differently:

Question: Why is one word spelled correctly at the top (deliveries) and incorrectly at the bottom (deliverys)? Perhaps there was an un scheduled interruption while the sign was being proofread?

That’s it for now. With the holidays looming, I wish you all good things, whether they be scheduled or un scheduled.

Help Wanted

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I’m not hiring. I’m reacting to the fact that pretty much everyone I encounter these days is tense about extreme weather, extreme politics, and, of course, the holiday season. Like The Beatles, “I get by with a little help from my friends.” But if you prefer a different method, perhaps one of these signs will suggest a path forward. Here’s one I saw in Madrid, Spain:

Poetry and psychoanalysis! A dynamite combination for personal growth and tension relief.

If poetry and psychoanalysis aren’t for you, consider the advice offered by the Irish Times in 1916, when martial law was declared in Dublin. With violence in the streets and a strict curfew, the newspaper opined:

Trouble outside, poetry inside! Wonderful thought, and a strategy that more than a few people, myself included, followed during the Covid lockdown era. Okay, maybe not the Bard, but trashy novels for sure.

Still looking for help? Here’s a sign in Seatac Airport:

I’m not sure why the sign maker felt the need to mention both Rescue and Assistance. Perhaps it’s because when things are really bad, one is not enough?

What if nothing is enough, and you’re still tense from doom-scrolling? Don’t give in! Or, as a zoo in Seattle put it:

My interpretation: It’s not the wolves’ fault! Pick your targets wisely. And maybe read a little poetry to the pack.

Checking It Twice?

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We’re closing in on the season when Santa is, as the song goes, “making a list and checking it twice.” Good idea! Too bad these signmakers didn’t make these signs and check them even once. If they had, surely they would have noticed these unfortunate typos.

The first comes courtesy of my friend Barry:

Ouch. The operations themselves must sting, but surely a little warning would help?

This photo was snapped by Nathan, the son of one of my former students. It’s on a food cart parked in front of the Metropolitan Museum of Art:

I sincerely hope no one obeys the command in the first two lines.

Here’s a screen shot I took when I was rug-shopping:

Quick question: Are the Stunning Patters made by little feet or a comedy-club emcee?

Another screenshot, from the website of a major hotel chain that should know better:

Take a close look at the third sentence, which I’ll reproduce here because the print is rather small: “Pop in, have a nap, (needs a comma) do a little laundry, take a shower, and relax in the stylish lounge before continuing on your journey.” Just what guests need in an airport hotel: a comma!

What I need, and what I suspect we all need as the holidays approach, is a bit of what these special days promise: the love of family and friends, the peace to enjoy their company, and the chance to express my gratitude for their presence in my life. Happy Thanksgiving!

West Coast Woofers

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I’ve spent the last few weeks in Seattle, which has been called “a city that loves books” because of the large number of bookstores, libraries, and book sales there. How lovely to be in a city of readers! Even more impressive: it appears that not all of Seattle’s readers are human. Take a look:

I wonder whether any members of the bark-set have objected to the missing punctuation.

Speaking of the bark-set:

Pay attention, Fido! Keep quiet, Rex! You don’t want a tow-away to the (gasp!) pound. (And yes, there’s some red tape stuck on the sign. I didn’t stick it there. If I had, the sign would have been much sloppier.)

These homeowners are less threatening , more polite, and probably just as earnest about their request to neighborhood dogs:

“Be respectful“: now that’s a message I can support!

Moving on from woofers, here’s an excerpt from a plea for kitten adoption:

While Squirrel’s profile appeals on many levels (who can resist feather wand toys?), I balk at living with a cat that loves to eat a chorus, no matter how out of tune the singers’ performance may be.

I choose to believe there’s hope for Squirrel. If West Coast Woofers can read, they can teach Squirrel to resist noshing on a tenor. Maybe they can even persuade the human population — not just in Seattle but everywhere — to be respectful. That would be something to bark about, even in a tow-a-way area.

Overshooting

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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.

Questionable Photos

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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!