Category Archives: Now trending

Observing and all too often criticizing language trends

Shopping Guide

Shopping season, in altered form like everything else in 2020, is upon us. It seems appropriate to warn you that the appearance of certain words automatically raises the asking price, though not necessarily the quality. Take a look:

Describe anything with a British-sounding word, such as bespoke, and you can add at least 20% to the price. Even after deducting 10% for spelling (dissapoint), the store still comes out ahead. Same with this photo:

Chemists can charge much more than pharmacists, and this store has both. The chemists are presumably in Britain and selling their products in a Manhattan pharmacy. Or something like that.

Old-looking words also up the bill:

The shopkeeper (not shoppekeeper) thinks you’ll read this sign and picture yourself wearing a hoop skirt or a tricorn hat. (I’m betting the store owner, like me, is a little fuzzy about history.) Back to language: Double the P in shop and the prices double too. The E probably adds another 5%.

My pet peeve (one of about a million, I admit):

Purveyors? Somebody memorized a vocabulary list and by golly is going to use it! If sellers get $1 for whatever the specialty is, a purveyor deserves $2, right?

Last and maybe least (though it’s a race to the bottom):

Curated? I’m happy to have an art museum curate its collection. But if our favorites in the snack-food category are curated, they’re overpriced.

Moral of the story: Buyer beware. You beware, too, of prices and most of all, of Covid-19.

The Dangers of 2020

We all know that 2020 presents a long list of dangerous situations, the pandemic being just one. But I haven’t read much about Food Danger: not what you eat, but the danger of being eaten. Take a look:

I’m not attending any event offering entree choices of beef, pork, or child. I wonder how many people took the last line seriously and listed “human flesh” as a dietary restriction.

When I couple the card above with the sign below, I fear cannibalism is becoming a trend:

Call me picky, but I don’t want a restaurant to serve me, as in serve me on a plate, or to serve anyone else, for that matter. Better to take care of each other! With that in mind, perhaps we should veto this plan:

I must admit that the above signs seem attuned to the mood of this awful year. Maybe the problem stems from too much disinfectant:

Please don’t satanize anything (or anyone, no matter how tempting). Do stay safe, and keep those around you as safe as possible, too.

On the Defensive

Lately I find myself thinking of 2020 as a real-life version of Ghostbusters 2, the one with a bubbly river of pink goo that makes everyone snarl and fight. Reinforcing that feeling are some signs that have a markedly defensive tone. Here’s one:

Pardon the bars. I took this photo during an early morning walk, so the store was closed and the gates were down. Nevertheless, the implied dialogue was easy to imagine: “Whadda ya mean, out of business? Yeah, the laundry has been shut for a while, but we still do dry clean.”

In the same vein, from the same walk, but in the window of a different shop:

More gates, more imaginary rebuttal: “I don’t care what the clerk said. I’m the owner and we do press duvet cover, sheets, pillow cases. So there!”

Last one:

The supermarket attached to this announcement is undergoing renovation, so it makes sense to proclaim, We are still open.” But I don’t get the but. That word generally signals a change in direction or an exception to a rule. I can’t build a logic bridge from pardon our appearance to we are still open with but. Can you? If so, please let me know.

While you’re thinking, get defensive: wash your hands, mask up, and social-distance. And please, go on the offensive: fight the pink goo. This awful year needs all the kindness we can muster.

How Do I Look?

I’ve been Zooming around a lot lately. I’ve had virtual dinners with friends, virtual classes (on both sides of the virtual desk), virtual doctor visits, and some virtual interviews about my new book. (Yes, this is a shameless plug for 25 Great Sentences and How They Got That Way, which debuted this week.) What I haven’t had is the ability to ignore my appearance while Zooming. I suspect I’m not alone. In fact, I bet the first humans fretted over their skin and hair whenever they knelt to drink from a pond.

These New York City signs, snapped pre-pandemic, indicate a whole new level of obsession. First up, skin:

I admit that German Black Forest sounds authoritative, though why those ingredients should surpass, say, the Appalachians I could not explain. And what has to happen for something to be wild crafted? Is a deer or a bear involved? A squirrel? For me, the words that tip this sign into lunacy are the last three. Does anyone create a system designed not to work?

A little more skin:

Given the lack of hyphens, this shop may be offering a consultation about the camera you use to check your scalp. Or, the store may have its own special scalp camera. Either way: eww. Why would you want to stare at follicles and record the experience for posterity?

Now, hair. Here’s a message I agree with:

Keep each tress to yourself, please! It should be easy to avoid passing one, if you’re Zooming. Not so easy, but much more important: stay safe!

Pandemicked

Podding up with my son’s family in Seattle, I’ve been thinking a lot about the language that has emerged during this dire period. Some terms I love: Quarantini, anyone? I’m also very fond of pod, a repurposed word now applied to the group you’ve chosen or been stuck with as quarantine-mates. I especially like its verb forms, “podding” and “podded.” Ditto for “pandemic,” as you probably guessed from the title of this post.

But not all pandemic vocabulary is helpful. My word-alarm rings when I see something like this package label:

This bit of literary nonexcellence describes a cloth mask, and was written, I imagine, with a translation program that lost its way, if it ever had a way. I’m assuming that carry is “wear” and, because the mask was folded in half, that divide the opposite side means “unfold.” Did the manufacturer really have to explain that? Would anyone wear a folded mask with both loops hanging over the same ear? (Don’t answer that. These days, the absurd seems all too possible.) Your guess is as good as mine when it comes to deciphering anti-external will stick dust power. I am similarly stumped by wash the poison. Both must have something to do with the virus, because in 2020 everything circles back to Corona. Pun intended.

Here’s a pre-pandemic sign that caters to the anxiety and ignorance far too often attached to physical well-being:

First there’s the phrase itself. I’m not a medical professional, but isn’t all health based on what’s going on at the cellular level? Can you have a disease or condition that doesn’t involve cells? Then there’s the location of the sign, the window of a spa. No offense to the hard-working employees, but I really don’t want anyone but a doctor to mess with my cells.

One more, also pre-pandemic but more important now than ever:

This is what we all have to do to get through to the other side of our 2020 nightmare: PULL a little harder. Remember that! Also, wash away the poison once a day, and look for kindness, compassion, and duty within yourself, as far down as your cellular level.

Huh?

I’ve always believed that one challenge of writing is distinguishing between what’s in your head and what actually makes it into the world. You know what you’re trying to say (presumably), but your words don’t always say it. Thus your reader or listener is left with one question: “Huh?”

Consider this sentence from a local politician’s newsletter:

Another portion of the East River Esplanade collapsed despite securing more than $275 million as Co-Chair of the Taskforce with Congress . . .

Ungrateful Esplanade! It collapsed despite securing so much money, though perhaps it was unreasonable to ask an esplanade to serve as co-chair of a Taskforce. Also, I have to sympathize with the rubble pile: we’re all on the verge of falling apart these days.

Then there’s this statement on the website of an airline I frequently patronize:

We’ve instituted a workstation cleaning program for the check-in lobby counters and gate counters where the surfaces are wiped down with a disinfectant at a frequent cadence.

A cadence is a “musical beat,” “voice modulation,” or “horse’s gait.” It’s not a time interval, and it can’t be frequent. I can only hope the airline staff’s antiviral efforts are more effective than their communication skills.

Then there’s this sign, courtesy of my friend Sean, by way of his friend Tom:

Sadly, the incoherence of this red-and-blue message seems to be the norm these days, when an esplanade has a tantrum and a cleaning product a cadence. One message I hope is crystal clear: stay safe!

On Location

Perhaps as a consequence of being cooped in, I’ve found myself thinking about the importance of location. An example:

I snapped this photo during a pre-pandemic shopping trip to a department store. The store was in North America, and the escalator next to this sign was in limbo, or maybe the repair shop. Either way, an elevator in CHINA was not in any way a convenience.

Moving on to another sort of location:

Et tu, New York Times? I thought I could count on my hometown newspaper to place descriptions in the proper location. I don’t know much about history or mathematical predictions, but I do know that the modifier that was used for D-Day should appear after method.

Another location problem, courtesy of my friend Ellie:

I can only conclude that whoever wrote this sign has really, really long arms.

Last one:

Say you’re driving a taxi. What happens after 46th Street? Does your passenger — or your car — go directly to jail without passing Go and collecting $200? Turn into a pumpkin? And what happens if you’re driving a couple or a group? Can your vehicle legally remain in bus lanes after 46 St?

This signs may be confusing, but one thing could not be clearer: the correct location in 2020 is socially distant. Stay safe and well!

Regarding Irregardless

Regardless first appeared in the mid-16th century as a description meaning “not worthy of attention.” That definition is obsolete, but perhaps it shouldn’t be. In fact, it may be the best label for the current debate about irregardless, which reignited last week when Merriam Webster defended the inclusion of irregardless in its dictionary. Much outrage ensued, regardless of the fact that Merriam Webster and many other respected dictionaries have listed the word for years. All label it “nonstandard” and some “humorous.”

As I write this, many issues are indeed worthy of attention: the pandemic, injustice, and climate change, to name just three. In that context irregardless can’t compete. In fact, even had 2020 not proved to be a strong candidate for “Scariest Year of Our Lifetime,” the status of irregardless would mostly be irrelevant.

Granted, it’s a double-negative. The prefix ir- means “without,” as does the suffix -less, so irregardless, as many commentators have pointed out, effectively translates to “without without regard.” English sometimes adds two negatives and gets a positive (“I couldn’t not ask for a raise,” for example, means “I had to ask for a raise”), yet no one thinks the Rolling Stones are expressing contentment with “I can’t get no satisfaction.” Anyone who knows what regardless means also knows what irregardless means.

Here’s the thing: language lives. It often moves from (1) that’s not a real word! to (2) it’s a real word but educated people don’t use it to (3) class, remember to double the R when you write “irregardless.” We’re currently in stage two.

Regardless of everything I just wrote, I do support standards, and I most definitely support teaching them. Like it or not, what executives and academics deem “proper” matters when it comes time to hire, fire, and grade. Knowing the rules is important — but so is knowing that rules change. Irregardless of my personal preference for regardless, irregardless may someday switch from “nonstandard” to “standard.” I suspect the world, and the English language, will survive.

Foreign Language Museum Product Version

Sometime ago–less than a year, but it feels like a lifetime–I completed a book I’m rather pleased with: 25 Great Sentences and How They Got That Way, an in-depth look at, well, great sentences and how they’re fashioned. WW Norton will publish it in August, assuming there is an August. In 2020, you never know.

Here’s the cover:

In moments of self-obsession–if I’m honest, every day–I google the title to read the prepublication reviews (happy about those) and to see where the book is being sold. I found some sites in various languages I don’t speak and google-translated the text. That’s how I discovered that 25 Great Sentences has a “foreign language museum product version.” Good to know, I think. I’m not entirely sure what that phrase means.

Important point: Far be it for me to criticize someone’s translation. How could I, when I once told a Spanish friend, in Spanish, the equivalent of “Pitifully, I have a former commitment and can’t meet you tonight”? Artificial intelligence software, on the other hand, is fair game.

Here’s another interesting sentence about my book, courtesy of the same translation program: “All the products purchased by members enjoy a ten-day hesitation period (including holidays).” Hesitation about what? To buy, read, evaluate, tear into little pieces, line the birdcage with? I’m not sure, but I love the idea of a “hesitation period.” Perhaps I’ll take one to decide what to hesitate about. And I’ll enjoy it, including holidays. 

The Pandemic in Signs

Most of the signs I glimpse in NYC these days are too sad to post. The hopeful “reopening March 20th” placards depress me now, in mid-May, because the shops they’re tacked on remain closed, some perhaps permanently. Nor do I like reading “closed until further notice” notices. I know that already. I just don’t know much further the “further” will be.

So I’m relying on my archives to map my pandemic experience. First, what I began to hear (but not really absorb) in late January:

Diagnosing the path ahead.

Soon I realized the trajectory life was taking:

Lots of do-It-yourself and a fair amount of storage (including toilet paper). Much moving away from the city, but not — and never — for me.

Instructions and predictions from authorities resembled, and continue to resemble, this:

and this:

There is no silver lining to this pandemic, but it has made me understand how, in these tough times, and also in good times,

What’s inside? If you’re fortunate, love and resilience.

Take care of yourself, take care of others, and stay safe.