Technical Difficulties

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I’ve been thinking about technical difficulties lately, perhaps because I’ve had a few. When I sat down to write this post an hour ago, for example, Word Press was down. It came back more quickly than my bank account, which went into a tizzy after someone tried to access it fraudulently. No harm done in either case, fortunately. I’m not sure the same is true at this shop:

First of all, this situation is unfair to anyone without a credit card or an item to barter. Second, what’s TECHNICAL about CASH? You put your hand out, someone puts the money in it, and you’re done. Okay, there’s recordkeeping, but are their pencils having TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES, too?

This sign, sent by my friend Catherine, has another sort of technical problem:

Granted, it’s not too hard to figure out the identity of the missing letter — though I spent an enjoyable half hour imagining alternatives, such as FIRE DOOD (alternate spelling for the Big Lebowski), FIRE MOOD (blazing? glowing?) and FIRE GOOD (arsonist’s motto). What intrigues me is why just one letter is missing. Do the other letters have more stamina? Did the flames hop from the E in FIRE to the next word? Maybe it’s something about W. That’s one of my initials, but I promise you I didn’t swipe the letter. I can’t vouch for my relatives, though. My best guess is that there were technical difficulties with the glue.

Whoever issued this press release in December 2020 is unlikely to accept a flimsy excuse about technical difficulties. Read it carefully:

Swapping a period for the comma after inaugurated: Now that’s precise editing! The next time I encounter technical difficulties, I want the person who corrected the pool report on my team.

Healthful?

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Shortly after the most candy-full day of the year, it seems appropriate to consider products that are healthful — or rather, products marketed that way. Starting at the top:

Number 1. Okay, I’m interested, but I would like to know the nature of the list this juise man tops. Every cart on the Upper West Side corner where he sells a smoothie that is all natural no sugar no milk? Every cart in the city (or world or universe)? The smoothie itself sounds healthful enough, though again I’d like more information. Lots of unhealthful things are all natural — uranium, for example.

This sign’s from Seattle:

How does one know, exactly, whether bees are happy? From the buzz? Antenna motion? Do NW bees smile? I admit I know nothing about bees‘ moods, but I would have thought they’d be unhappy if someone swiped their honey. Maybe there’s a profit-sharing plan.

Same supermarket, different product:

Plant-Based sounds nutritious, doesn’t it? But I have to ask: Is there a non-Plant-Based Pizza? Made on, say, cardboard or steak?

Last sign, courtesy of my brother-in-law:

Good to know that there isn’t even one Vegan in this Gel. Or perhaps the Gel is Free to any random Vegan passing the salon?

As always, theories welcome. See what you can come up with as you nibble away at your Halloween candy.

Dates

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I keep both an electronic and a paper calendar. That’s a bad system, because I sometimes forget to enter an event on one of them and commit myself to existing in two places at the same time. Thus I’m sympathetic to anyone who messes up a schedule — within limits. These signs definitely do NOT fall within those limits.

Whoever wrote this sign didn’t memorize the “Thirty days hath September, April, June, and November” jingle that I learned in elementary school.

Note to self (on both calendars): Avoid this street every September 31st.

This sign, posted in London, has a similar problem:

I thought the longest night of the year was December 21st, the winter solstice, but apparently it’s 29 Septermeber, which has 3 nights tucked into one date. Or perhaps the road closing begins on 29 Septermeber and lasts until Septermeber 31?

Moving from days to weeks:

There may be Only One NYC RESTAURANT WEEK because that week lasts for a very long time.

This advertisement, which I found in a catalog, stumps me:

I can’t make the numbers add up. From 1983 to 2023, I count 40 YEARS. So far, so good. But how does that connect to aptly named 1963 — a date plastered on all the clothing? Maybe the jackets are half as large as they should be (half of the 40-year span of A WINDPROOF, WATERPROOF LEGEND)? Theories welcome, as long as you send them in before the deadline, which is next September (Septermeber) 31st.

Golden Oldies

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“Okay Boomer,” said my teenaged granddaughter to her dad one day, teasing him with the verbal equivalent of an eye roll. Informed that an actual Boomer (me) was sitting next to her, she responded, “Yeah, but Gran’s cool. Well, not cool, but for her age she’s really cool.” Best. Compliment. Ever.

I’m not fond of the term Boomer, which makes me think of oil wells and large tubas, but I’d rather have that label than some others applied to my age group. Golden Ager implies the best of all possible eras, and that’s unlikely when so many phone calls with my peers include what one has dubbed the “organ recital”: a list of the new body-part doctors we’ve acquired and the ailments they’re treating. Nor do I like the expression older people. As a grammarian, I’m obliged to ask, “Older than whom?” and wait for someone to complete the comparison. I’m okay with being called elderly, though I’d prefer to be known as an elder, a term implying that I’ve learned something valuable during my years on the planet. I’m also okay with old. That’s just accurate.

The term I really hate is senior citizen. I’ve been a teacher my entire adult life. School is my default context. If I’m a senior, what am I graduating to?

I mention all this because today is my birthday. A complete complement of candles would burn down the house, but I’ll take a symbolic, celebratory few. That seems the right way to mark this step on the path. As for terminology, this sign gave me the answer:

Where there are Minors, there must be Majors. That’s me, folks. Major, cool-for-my-age Woods.

Making Headlines

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First let me acknowledge that journalism is a tough profession. Readers scrutinize every word, which the journalist had maybe two minutes to write, looking for a “gotcha” moment. For this reason, I focus most of my snark on signs, which generally aren’t written on deadline. But sometimes I can’t resist. Take a look at this headline:

I cropped the photo, but I assure you all the words are there. All the words that appeared on the screen, that is. I don’t know what left him on read means, but then again I never did understand politicians.

A student alerted me to this gem:

Babies have greeted the world in lots of surprising places: subway platforms, hotel lobbies, the back seat of taxis . . . but Princess Eugenie appears to have done something unique by giving birth on the red carpet. Oops. On rereading, I see that Eugenie is not unique at all. Sister Princess Beatrice was giving birth there also. That red carpet must have been a bit crowded.

A friend sent me this one a while ago. It continues to puzzle me:

In case you’re wondering, JWST is the “James Webb Space Telescope.” I’m wondering whether there are galaxies of any age that aren’t in the universe. If so, where are they? I invite astrophysicists to comment. Actually, I invite everyone to comment on any of these headlines. And if you create or appear in a headline someday, I wish you clarity and charity.

Human — Nature

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The relationship between humans and Nature is fraught at the best of times — times we are certainly not in, as this summer’s storms, wildfires, and heat waves make abundantly clear. Yet we humans hold fast to the illusion of control:

You can fence off a lawn, as the NYC Parks Department did, thereby limiting but not eliminating human access. (The day I snapped this photo, several people had hopped the sagging fence.) But the lawn itself can’t be closed. Somewhere under those beige blades are roots, which are open for business until Mother Nature decides otherwise. Also, the word renovation implies a plan that Nature will follow. That’s an idea in need of renovation.

Another Parks Department sign:

What’s a passive lawn? One that doesn’t photosynthesize? Also, what does an active lawn do? Are any sports truly inactive? (Feel free to post answers.)

Better signs focus on human behavior, as this one from Seattle’s Woodland Park Zoo does:

Wisely, the zookeepers aren’t telling the porcupine how to behave. Instead, the sign addresses any humans dumb enough to consider reaching for a quill.

Same zoo, another message for human visitors:

Not only the wolves would be grateful for compliance: I prefer not to stand next to a howling person. How about you?

Close, But No Cigar

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Back in the we-didn’t-know-tobacco-causes-cancer era, many traveling carnivals offered cigars as prizes. Near misses garnered only a sympathetic statement, “Close, but no cigar.” I can’t say I blame the carnival workers. In my business (grammar), close isn’t good enough either. Witness this sign, which my granddaughter spotted:

I’m ignoring the substitution of U for “you.” Shortened texting forms are conquering the language, and, to borrow a phrase from Star Trek, resistance is futile. But CLOSE is an actual word, with an actual meaning that doesn’t match the sign’s intended message. CLOSE or far away — who cares where the storekeeper is? Shoppers simply want a place that’s open.

Alaska Airlines posted this card on a breakfast buffet:

I’ll pause for a moment so you can imagine my impassioned rant about apostrophes inappropriately tasked with making a word plural. All done? Good, because I want to talk about vowels, specifically the A that’s missing from Rosted (Roasted) and the E that doesn’t appear in Potato’s, which should, of course, be Potatoes. Alaska Airlines, if I proofread your signs, will you give me free flights?

Not just a letter but a whole word went AWOL from this sign:

IT’S TIME TO what YOUR EVENTS? To forget about, ignore, run screaming from, enjoy? And what is a SEMI-PRIVATE? Does Hallmark make a card for that?

Last one:

Note to the signwriter: Good job on the apostrophe in WE’RE. Not so good on WALKIN!! Two exclamation points do not a complete word make, even when they’re gold and pink. I’ll end this post now so you can picture what SPECIAL WALKIN!! looks like. In my mind’s eye, it’s a cross between an amble and a strut. Or perhaps it’s something different. Whether I’m correct or just close, don’t bother offering me a cigar!

Non-Moving Vehicles

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For a city well-supplied with public transportation, New York devotes a large amount of signage to parking. I won’t post the ordinary this-is-when-you-get-towed signs (too boring, also sometimes inaccurate). Nor will I dip into history, such as former Mayor Ed Koch’s early 80s “Don’t Even Think About Parking Here” campaign. Instead, I’ll focus on weird elements of the genre I’ve seen recently, such as this one:

Every time I walk past this Garage, I wonder why someone felt the need to insert Temporarily. If the Garage is permanently Full, wouldn’t the sign say “Residents Only” or “Private Parking”? Also, does the sign writer think anything in life is permanent? I certainly don’t, least of all a parking spot in the crowded borough of Manhattan.

Here’s a sign posted next to a train station:

As I read it, you get FREE PARKING on all SUNDAYS & HOLIDAYS, but on only one measly SATURDAY — ever! My advice is to choose your day wisely. You don’t want to blow your free-Saturday card on a ten-minute errand.

Parking signs, by the way, presume a public that actually cares. In New York, that’s not always the case:

It’s a bit fuzzy, so I’ll reproduce the words on the sign next to the car blocking a building entrance: DO NOT BLOCK BUILDING ENTRANCE.

Not only cars bring out NYC rebellion:

Notice all the bicycles neatly lined up in the NO BICYCLES enclosure.

One more:

You can’t go wrong at this intersection. You can’t go right, either, but as I established with the previous two photos, New Yorkers don’t care.

Danger

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The world has never been a safe place, but lately I’ve noticed hints of danger in unexpected places, such as this restaurant, presumably run by the homeowner in “Hansel and Gretel”:

Most of us would agree, I hope, that while TOTS may often be annoying, they should never be classed as edibles, either at home or in a BAR.

Different restaurant, but a similar hint of danger:

What will those hands do if the person they’re attached to actually does satanise them? I shudder to think.

Perhaps the person in the photo below used the “sataniser.” He’s Will Kirk, an amiable furniture restorer on The Repair Shop, which is an amiable television series:

It’s hard to envision Will, a newlywed, in a martial (warlike) home. But according to Hello! magazine, there he is.

Strictly speaking the next photo doesn’t depict danger, but it certainly opens up some awful possibilities (e.g. arteries and veins) for a careless user:

Usually I can figure out what the sign intends to say (Will’s home should be marital not martial, for example), but this one stumps me. The photo depicts neither an ASHTRAY nor a BRA, and 1 Pcs $4 isn’t much help. One “personal computer system”? A “pretentious chopping set”? An item in a “precarious clothing series”? All would be a bargain at $4, I guess.

The last photo, snapped by my granddaughter, has a rather ominous tone:

Why offer a reason and then cross out the crucial word? What’s wrong with cash payment? Germs, counterfeits, an aversion to green pieces of paper? I can’t fill in the blank.

Feel free to send me your ideas. I promise a swift and safe response.

Confusing Animals

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Signs referring to nonhuman animals have occupied my mind this week, setting me on a hamster wheel of confusing possibilities. Clarity, O Clarity, where art thou? Not here:

A few questions: How does one decide whether a Chicken is Smart? Is managing to stay whole enough? Or does a Chicken have to prove its intelligence by refusing to eat artificial ingredients, thereby achieving organic status?

More confusion:

How many PETS actually spend time COOKING BICYCLES? Have those Smart Chickens created a recipe for roasted or braised handlebars? Do they use organic ingredients?

This sign prompts another question:

Can a dog read well enough to follow instructions explaining how to wash itself? Somehow I thought instinct alone would be sufficient.

Last but not least:

This sign seems a bit sexist. I mean, where are male deer supposed to park? And how exactly does the tow-truck driver decide whether VEHICLES belong to a DOE or a stag? Antler gashes on the dashboard? Perhaps the Department of Education will explain the identification process.

I’ll end this post with one clear message and one shameless plug. Message: Be kind to animals, human or not. Plug: If clarity is your goal, check out my online course, “How to Explain Anything,” which will take place on August 19th from 1:00 — 4:00 EDT (10:00 — 1:00 PDT). Enroll at www.hugohouse.org.