Category Archives: Now trending

Observing and all too often criticizing language trends

Directionless

Polls show that many of us feel adrift and directionless. I sometimes share that feeling, especially when I see signs like the ones in this post. The first one stands in a narrow opening between the Great Hall and the Egyptian wing of the Met:

Who knew Jean-Paul Sartre made signs for museums?

Here’s a puzzle for motorists:

It may not be evident in the photo, but it should be to motorists, that directly behind these signs is Lake Wallenpaupack. Do drivers really have to be told to turn instead of plunge?

In the same vein:

If you overthink it — my specialty, by the way — the sign asks you to be in two places at the same time. Modern life often demands multitasking, but this is a whole other ballgame, one you can’t win.

You can’t win this one, either:

These two signs stand in front of the United Nations. I spotted them a few years ago and have checked periodically to see whether an attack of sanity broke out and someone took at least one of the signs down. So far, motorists are still being told to do the impossible.

As are we all. It seems to me that what really unites nations is this: nobody knows where to go, how to get there, and when to stop. Who knew street signs mirrored life?

Expensive Words

Every trip to the store reminds me that inflation isn’t just for balloons. I don’t pretend to understand the economic forces involved, but I do know some things that inflate the cost of food. Here’s one:

General rule: If you double the P in “shop,” you double the price. Which is understandable, because it’s expensive to import food from the 16th century.

Another general rule is “fancy language equals fancy prices,” especially when the words are associated with Britain:

“Made to order” isn’t cheap, but it is cheaper than “bespoke.” I would deduct 10% from the price for misspelling “disappoint,” however.

A variation of the fancy language rule sets higher prices to anything described by a three-syllable word that most people have to look up in a dictionary:

A “distributor” can’t charge as much as a “purveyor.” Oh, and “chefs” pay more than “cooks.”

To sum up: If you’re on a tight budget, stay away from shoppes that are purveyors of bespoke fruit baskets.

Logic-Challenged

It’s almost August, which is as good an excuse as any for why logic has exited through some sort of universal escape hatch and left us in a complete muddle.

Speaking of the universe, my friend Constance alerted me to this headline:

Science fiction multi-verses aside, logic dictates that “the universe,” by definition, encompasses everything, and therefore everything has to be in it. Or, as Constance notes in her email: Where else would a galaxy be? In a closet? In my backyard?

Next are some dividers I spotted while shopping for a greeting-card:

Shouldn’t the photo on the right read “for anyone who’s not funny?”

Now turn your attention to the back of my son’s car:

To any mathematician reading this: I’d appreciate your explaining what “partial zero” amounts to.

Moving on:

How can Paper House have a “New Home” if it’s been there “Since 1976”? What’s the time frame for becoming an “old home”?

Fingers crossed that Covid-variant outbreaks will soon give way to an outbreak of rationality, just for a change of pace. In the meantime, stay cool and, if at all possible, logical.

Happy In(ter)dependence Day

Today Americans celebrate Independence Day. Barbecues aren’t an option in my dense, cement-covered portion of New York City, and I generally go to sleep around the time Macy’s sets off its first firework. Lacking traditional outlets, this year I’m dedicating my holiday to grammar. (Do I know how to have a good time or what?)

An obscure grammar rule holds that collective nouns (jury, class, committee, etc.) are singular when everyone in the group is united in performing the same action (The drama class meets every Wednesday) and plural when the group is divided or acting individually (The cast are writing “Best Actor” acceptance speeches). This convention is followed more often in the Britain than in the US. Americans are more likely to employ a singular verb (The cast is writing) than pair a collective noun with a plural verb. To American ears, “the cast are” just sounds wrong.

Lately I’ve been wondering if this usage mirrors an ideal embedded in the fundamental fabric of the country — in its very name, which declares that individual entities (States) are United. The same ideal appears in America’s self-definition (melting pot) and motto (E Pluribus Unum — “Out of many, one“). The preamble to the Constitution begins “We the people,” emphasizing unity.

Of course, the people granting themselves rights in the Constitution excluded an awful lot of Americans. In the preamble, they acknowledged that their work was flawed, declaring that they were striving for a Union that was more perfect — not actually perfect. And despite their shortcomings, the Founders’ goals were worthy: “to establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity.”

With all this in mind, I suggest that instead of focusing on the Declaration of Independence this July 4th, we celebrate the preamble to the United States Constitution. At the very least, its minimal length (52 words) allows more time for the barbecue-inclined. At best, the preamble may prompt us to rededicate ourselves to interdependence, to the notion that what’s good for all of us is good for each of us. Perhaps then this divisive era will become less so, and pairing a singular verb with the collective noun, American citizenry, will be both accurate and grammatically correct. Happy July 4th!

During the Pandemic

From time to time I catch myself saying during the pandemic while talking about some event in the past two years. But during the pandemic is, in fact, now. Covid is still with us, despite the fact that many people, myself included, really want this disease to go far, far away and stay there.

I favor precision in language, so once I noticed the problem with during the pandemic, I cast about for better wording. I tried during lockdown. But that phrase is awfully vague, as restrictions have come and gone and sometimes come again in various parts of the United States and around the world.

I had a brief fling with when Broadway closed down, but people who don’t follow theater were mystified. I considered when there were refrigerated morgue trucks parked in my neighborhood. That’s an accurate description of the spring of 2020 in New York City, but it’s kind of a conversation killer. No pun intended.

For a while I marked pandemic time by referring to waves, as in “During the first wave I played way too much sudoku.” But New York’s first wave — tsunami, really — isn’t aligned with the first wave elsewhere. Plus, by now I can’t remember which wave we’re in. Third? Fourth? Lately I’ve relied on references to variants and shots, as in “right before Omicron” and “between my first two vaccinations and Delta.” Those expressions are imprecise, to be sure, but for the moment they’re the best I’ve got.

What to do? This sign sums up the situation:

Practicing has several meanings, one of which implies a work in progress. When it comes to Covid and our response to it, that’s where — actually, when — we are.

Animation

Disney isn’t the only company infusing life into inanimate objects. (Did you know that inanimate used to be a verb meaning “to infuse life”? Now it’s an adjective meaning “without life.” Curious how language works.) As these signs illustrate, anyone can animate an object, though the results are somewhat unpredictable.

First up is a sign my friend Catherine spotted:

I wonder whether the dresses stride or billow out. Also, when the dresses . . . come out of the fitting room, are there people in them? If not, what happens to the people in the fitting room when their dresses . . . come out? Note to self: shop at this store only while wearing pants.

I usually remove a brand name to avoid embarrassing the business responsible for unintentional hilarity, but Heinz should know better. Take a look at this label:

Heinz Ketchup is grown, not made? Really? Is there a plant with little ketchup bottles on it? Do they start out as one ouncers and reach maturity at, say, a quart?

This last sign doesn’t animate the apartments it references, but I hope it animates those who are delivering the 2 – 4 BRs. They’ll need to step lively:

How much does an average bedroom weigh? How large a vehicle do you need to deliver 2 – 4 of them? Does from $3.4M include postage? Inquiring minds want to know.

You’ll have to excuse me now. I’m off to fill Gertrude (my kettle) and put her on Ronald (my stove). If I’m going to be animated enough to get something done today, I need a cup of Joe.

Surprise!

When I snap photos of signs, I am frequently amused and often puzzled. Seldom am I surprised, but occasionally . . . well, take a look.

I saw this sign at a construction site in Seattle, where on average it rains 149 days a year and where the news media keep headlines like “Heavy Rains Bring Floods” ready to roll:

Even though Seattle has not escaped climate change (no place has), it’s still startling to think that someone needs to rent rain there. Also, quick question: if you rent rain, how do you return it when the lease is up?

This sign left me dumbfounded:

There may be a connection between preschool children and beloved dog/dogs, but I’m not seeing it. Thoughts, anyone?

Bureaucracies are generally boring, but Seattle’s Department of Construction delivered this surprise:

I don’t know about you, but I still don’t have an answer to the question What is it? Whatever it may be, don’t look there for units or parking.

Last one, courtesy of my friend Barry:

I can understand banning smoking, but poets? True, the average poet makes, as Calvin Trillin once remarked, “in the high two figures,” but that situation would seem to be covered by an income minimum, not an art form. Maybe someone walked out of English class with Post Traumatic Sonnet Disorder?

If you run across any surprising signs, please feel free to let me know.

Got That?

In this blog I often call attention to signs that omit essential information, thereby forcing readers to guess the intended meaning. These beauties have the opposite problem: desperate to be clear, they overexplain and complicate what should be a simple message. Here’s one I saw taped to a salon door:

I considered having my hair cut, but I couldn’t figure out how to get inside.

Here’s another sign, courtesy of my friend Don:

Note to potential customers: count heads before you enter this establishment. If it’s two, you’re fine, because that’s fewer than FIVE (3). If it’s three or four, enter at your own risk, because you’re in the gray area between the spelled-out number FIVE and the numeral (3). If there are five customers present, try again later, perhaps after snacking at this fast-food restaurant (photo supplied by my friend Jesse):

I don’t mind splitting a burger, but I do mind splitting myself to order a burger. I prefer to use just one lane, not both, when I’m selecting a meal.

As a belated celebration of Valentine’s Day, I can’t resist including this sign:

I get what the sign is saying. What baffles me is the intended market. Are there enough couples wandering around Manhattan, wondering how to elope? How many walk-ins does this store get? My guess: FIVE (3) a year.

The Trouble with D

At first glance, D seems like a simple letter. It’s hard to mispronounce and easy to write, so long as you remember where the lower-case letter bulges and don’t draw a “Happy Webbing” card for a bride and groom, as a child I know once did. But deciding when and where to insert the letter D is anything but simple, judging from signs I see around the city. I posted examples of problematic D signs in two previous posts (Got a D? | Grammarian in the City and Grade D+ | Grammarian in the City). A recent spate of signs mishandling this letter prompts me to revisit the issue.

Here’s an example I saw at an arts venue:

Advanced? Are we talking tickets with doctorates? Stubs with evolved thinking?

Another gem, courtesy of my friend Catherine:

Ignore the misspelling of appreciated, if you can, and focus on the d. If the business owners appreciated (or appriciated) the business, what do they do now — take the business for granted?

This one comes from my friend Wendy:

Further noticed sounds like a temper tantrum: until we get more attention and are further noticed, we’ll be closed.

This sign, sent by my friend Ruth, lacks the letter d:

Selective? Hm..m. Does the store owner say, I’ll let you buy this at a discount but the guy behind you has to pay full price”? Or maybe the selective items refuse to be bought by customers who are not up to the items’ high standards? Substituting selected for selective solves the problem.

I wished you a happy 2022. Oops — make that wish. And I really do!

A Rough Road

When I snapped this photo a couple of years ago, I had no idea how accurate its message would be, nor how long it would remain relevant:

Rough indeed. As Covid-19 turns toddler age, we’re all fraying at the edges. And it shows! Clarity has turned to ambiguity and often dipped into downright incomprehensibility, as in this headline from the Seattle Times:

I’m happy to report that later editions of the paper added an H to pus. I am even happier to confirm that there is no pus in the hepatitis A vaccine — or any other vaccine, for that matter.

Covid has also melted our sense of time:

An hour that lasts from 12:00 PM – 10:00 PM — that’s 600 minutes! I do hope employees aren’t paid an hourly wage. Sidepoint: Why not say Every Day instead of Monday – Sunday?

One last thought, about a photo my friend Sean sent me:

Please DON’T light up Christmas with a can of fuel. The road is rough enough already. Instead, stay safe. See you in the new year!