Category Archives: Now trending

Observing and all too often criticizing language trends

Repurposing, Part 2

This post is entitled “Repurposing” because I’ve dug up some photos I posted a long time ago and added Covid-pertinent commentary. (It’s “Part 2” because I did the same thing last week.) Before I begin, though, I offer sincere gratitude to the heroes who leave home each day to tend to the sick, staff the markets, deliver the packages, and keep the city running.

Now, to those of us who have the privilege of protecting ourselves by sheltering in place: How many weeks has it been? I’ve lost count, which is why it’s been long enough to need this:

Check all that apply: (a) grumpy (b) annoyed (c) exasperated (d) nuclear meltdown imminent

Self-checked? Now select a remedy. For the grumpy:

Caution: Avoid serving to significant others. May be habit-forming.

Annoyed at your isolate-mates? Try this:

A little blurry — like most of us these days.

No matter how much your offspring are getting on your nerves, don’t give in to this:

Unless of course the arrow points to “silent treatment rooms.”

As for me, I’m grateful to be safe and fervently hoping you are safe as well.

Repurposing

With the belief that humor in the midst of tragedy is a relief and the hope that silly signs will make you smile, I’ve repurposed some photos I took in pre-distancing days.

Because you can’t get to the groomer and have never actually taken care of the canine you live with.
You’ve streamed everything. The refrigerator is just sitting there. Go look.
Suitable for children’s bedrooms, our best bike-friendly surface. Call now!

One more, which isn’t silly despite its mangled grammar:

These days, real heroes definitely don’t wear capes. They wear scrubs. They wear masks (when they can get them). They wear a calm face, no matter how fearful they are. They are the doctors, nurses, aides, EMTs, janitors, clerks, and everyone else who fights this disease. They deserve thanks — and every possible support — from all of us.

Gratitude, Of Course

I usually write about silly or pretentious language, but not today. Instead I want to talk about some very brave people and, because this is a language blog, about the language those people use. Almost three years ago, for a period of about six months, I spent a lot of time in a hospital where someone I loved was losing the fight for his life. In addition to keeping track of his medicines and treatments, I listened to the language around me. That’s what I do.

It struck me that every time I thanked someone — and there were many, many occasions to do so — the response was the same: “of course.” It was odd at first. The traditional response is “you’re welcome,” but it was a cancer hospital, so “welcome” wasn’t really appropriate. No one wanted to be there as a patient, and the caregivers would have preferred not to “welcome” anyone to the world of cancer. Newer responses — “no problem” and its close cousin, “no worries” — were horribly inaccurate. Because language arises from necessity and creativity, “of course” stepped into the breach.

As I watched hospital personnel reattach IV bags and adjust beds, medications, tubing, and all the other accoutrements of illness, I knew they did so because of course they didn’t want anyone to suffer. Of course they wanted sick people to receive the best care. Of course they’d take time to explain, to reassure, to comfort, and to tend in every way to the needs of patients and their families. It is, I believe, a kind of love. The very best kind.

So now, of course they’re working to save us from the virus. Of course they’re putting their own lives at risk. And of course we should thank them whenever we can. But not just with words: every precaution we take to safeguard our own health is a precaution we take to safeguard theirs. Is it difficult to give up the routines of daily life? Of course. Is it necessary? Of course. Should those in charge do everything — everything! — to give them the supplies they need? Of course.

And because I’m a creature of words, I add these: Thank you, doctors, nurses, EMTs, aides, clerks, and everyone else taking care of us.

Challenge

This post is a challenge: Can you reword these well-meaning but misguided signs, all of which have “do” problems? One point for a grammatically correct answer, two for grammatically correct and punchy, and three for a revision that fits the first two categories and maintains some sort of verb. I’ll tell you what I came up with for each, but fair warning: my revisions are terrible. Ready? Then we’re off to the barber shop:

The original, “We do hot shave,” has to go. My attempts: “We hot shave.” I don’t think so. “We shave hot.” Nope. “We shave hotly.” Definitely no. How about “We stick hot towels on your face before we shave you”? Not unless the storefront widens considerably. (And when did shaving become a team effort?)

Onward, and not upward:

As it is now, this sign feels like a retort to someone who said, “I wish you tailored.” (“We do tailor!”) My revisions: “We tailor and do alterations” and “Tailoring and Alterations Done Here.” Way too formal, way too long. Your thoughts?

Last one:

There’s an easy fix: cut off the first line of the top sign. That earns two points, but can you go for a three-pointer?

I’ll tally everyone’s points. The reader with the highest score will win . . . well, nothing. But DO try anyway.

Chickening Out

Every time I think a bit of rationality has invaded food ads (which occurs, I admit, never), I see a sign so loopy I have to laugh. And snap a photo:

How is a “whole whole chicken” different from a “whole chicken”? Is it “wholer”? Or is there something missing in the usual “whole chicken” that I should know about? Perhaps, in these hyperbolic days, we need to repeat something just to make it seem true. Sigh.

Here’s an even more disturbing sign:

Maybe this sign explains the previous one: Perhaps the “whole whole chicken” includes the brain, obliquely referred to here as the quality it confers, “smart.” The whole (whole whole) thing makes me shudder and sigh.

I think I’ll eat veggies tonight. How about you? Having trouble deciding? Try this:

No decisions, just a grab. Ideal, until you notice that it’s “our favorites,” not “your.” Sigh again.

Writing this post has made me hungry. I think I’ll grab my favorite snack, which is not chicken — not “whole,” not “whole whole,” and definitely not “smart.” Bon appetit!

Venice

No jokes today. I snapped this photo in Venice, where I spent ten wonderful days in October. The beauty of the city and the kindness of the Venetians won my heart. I intended to post this photo with my usual snarky remarks on phrasing and language, but I present it now, after (and during) the floods, as a tribute:

My heart is with those who support Venice, and its “defense for the survival of this dream of stones on water.”

Hair Today, Gone (Please!) Tomorrow

I’m not hoping for baldness but rather for a change in signage pertaining to hair. What is it about the human version of fur that obsesses us? I don’t know the answer, but I do know that these products and services are beyond ridiculous. An example:

First of all, I hope no one goes to this salon hoping that Francis Ford or Sofia are employed there as stylists. Second, botox? Seriously? Just what I’d like for my hair: a neurotoxin that causes paralysis.

Onward but not upward:

I could say quite a lot about this sign. For example: Why specify “goatee beard”? Is there a “goatee eyebrow” or a “goatee cheese” that I don’t know about? But the line that most interests me is “Crew Cut Senior Citizen.” For the record, I’m a senior citizen and I don’t have a crew cut. Nor do I want one. I prefer to read this as a headline for an article beginning “The crew of the USS Scissors cut a senior citizen yesterday. NCIS is investigating.”

Another non-beauty:

This photo and the previous one are from different salons. Perhaps they share a grammarian (or rather, they should share one). In both, apostrophes are a problem. (“Children Haircut”? Men Haircut?) Also, both offer the customer a “shape up.” Presumably the $20 version comes with a trainer, diet plan, and access to exercise equipment. For $10, the salon owner just yells at you until get your act together.

That’s it for today. I have an appointment to get my hair cut, because, as this salon put it, I need an “edit”:

Do take photos of your favorite hair signs before, like the “summer edit festival,” they’re gone.

Heatwave Relief

The air resembles tan soup this morning, as the heatwave in New York City staggers off. I’d be staggering, too, without the comic relief provided by friends who sent me these signs. The first is from Joselia:


I hope the cops are looking to arrest whoever “we” is before the chainsaw comes out.

The next two are from Ellie, who lives in a cooler spot (Canada). Please send a cold front with the next set of photos, Ellie. Here’s the first:

Call me lazy, but the thought of trekking to China from Canada just to save walking up or down some stairs is not appealing. And how is that a convenience for wheelchair users?

Another Ellie-gem:

The original caption for this photo questioned whether there was any way to make sense of the display. The syntax suggests that “whole” is a noun. I’m just hoping it’s not a misspelling of “hole,” in which case the first person to walk on that carpet is going to take a plunge. Another theory: The empty window on the right is a fill-in-the-blank. If that’s correct, I’d be happy to spend $99 to carpet my street and a few adjacent avenues. Much more elegant, and quieter, too.

Ellie shared a photo taken by her friend John, but my computer stubbornly refused to save it. The image showed an empty carton labeled “invisible tape.” Maybe the invisible part explains my computer problem: The photo is there, but no one can see it.

The last is from me, snapped during a recent visit to England:

I’m not sure about the “get sun” part, but otherwise, it’s spot on.

ACRONYM-ITY

Today’s New York Times reports that people who participated in STRRIDE a decade ago now have (A) better health than those who did not exercise and (B) displayed an unhealthy attraction to silly acronyms. Which group, of course, includes STRRIDE, or “Studies Targeting Risk Reduction Interventions through Defined Exercise.” Duke University, you should have known better than to saddle a perfectly good research program with a name like that. The acronym wasn’t worth it.

I can’t help wondering whether Duke expects people to roll the double-R in STRRIDE, a skill students learning Spanish often struggle with. I also wonder how often people reading about STRRIDE in the Times think they’ve discovered a typo.

Which brings me to another question: Who decides whether an abbreviation is an acronym, with its initial letters pronounced as a word (NATO = nay toe) or whether its letters are named (UN = you en)? Personally, I’d opt for making the shortened form of United Nations an acronym (uh nn), given how often the organization is unproductive. But that discussion itself is unproductive, so I’ll leave it alone. Instead, I’m forming ACRONYM, for those Against Chronic Ridiculous Overused Names Yielding Nonsense. Join today!

Speling Is a Lost Airt

I don’t normally bother to point out spelling errors in New York City signs, but every once in a while I can’t help myself. Why would someone have a sign professionally printed without running it through spell-check? I admit that spell-check is far from perfect, but still. A glance would have been enough to save this sign from over-consonance:

It would be nice to think that the sign-maker chose “dinning” to emphasize noise-level issues. I’ve often drowned a scarf in sauce while leaning over the table to catch one or two syllables. The background music and the shouts of other diners (dinners?) can be deafening! Alas, I don’t think that was the intention. On the plus side, the hyphens in “off-the-beaten-path” are correct.

Another instance of over-consonance:

When I saw this sign I immediately thought of Nagini, Voldemort’s pet snake. Read it aloud and listen for the hiss in “occassions.” I assume the sign-maker speaks Parseltongue, the snake language of the Harry Potter series.

The consonants are fine in this one, but not the vowels. The sign does, however, accurately reflect the feeling New York’s construction inspires in those of us navigating the city’s sidewalks:

If you’re overwhelmed after exiting the walkway, perhaps you’ll consider dinning out, with a sheet cake to mark the occassion.