Directionless

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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?

The Favor of a Reply Is Requested

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I have a few questions for you, starting with your thoughts on this advertisement for cigarettes:

Is this company trying to corner the health-food market? Organic says yes, but tobacco seems to undercut that message.

I gnashed my teeth when I read this label on a bottle of mouthwash:

What does less intense enamel taste like? Does the enamel on your teeth have any taste at all? I don’t think mine does.

I’ve held onto this photo for a long time — not for an entire historic era, but for a year or so:

Does climbing or descending these steps change history, altering the timeline or plunging the world into a different branch of the multiverse? Maybe the steps have fallen into disrepair and the homeowner is using historic as a get-out-of-being-sued excuse? Attention, attorneys: Would this hold up in court if someone did sue?

Now to a Seattle parking area:

Is the sign on the right intended to help firefighters? Somehow I thought they were supposed to notice things like hydrants without assistance from signage. Maybe some drivers back out without looking. If so, is there a way to revise the driving test to exclude them? I’m really hoping the answer to that last question is yes.

I also eagerly await your theories.

Expensive Words

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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.

Geographically Challenged

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Does anyone study geography these days? Judging from the photos below, no. Or maybe the world has simply gotten a lot more interconnected than it used to be.

First up is a package my friend Priscilla spotted in an iconic New York City grocery store:

Perhaps the label should read “Produit du Pérou.”

Moving on: This poster advertises French Fries (no surprise there, except for the capital letters), along with Poland Water and Chicken Tundra.

I did a little research and confirmed what I suspected: Poland does indeed have water and probably can spare some small bottles. However, places classified as tundra generally aren’t associated with chicken coops. I mean, arctic chickens? Someday, maybe, if the climate continues to warm. (Don’t ask me about Tune Melt. I can’t deal with defrosted music today.)

This menu item features an ingredient from France by way of Voltaire:

I like my ginger candide, don’t you? I just hope it hasn’t been sitting in the cupboard since the Enlightenment.

By the way, the subtitle of Voltaire’s novel Candide is The Optimist. Let’s hang onto that and pretend that the world — and its geography — will sort itself out someday.

Logic-Challenged

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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

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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!

Apostrophes, Sigh

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What is it with apostrophes? They show up when they aren’t needed and go AWOL when they are. Here’s an example from the first category, in a blurry photo I snapped from a moving car:

Unless the HOUSES & LAND belong to a man named JOHN BUY, this apostrophe interrupts a perfectly good verb.

Another unnecessary apostrophe, in the plural noun Mondays:

Whoever made this sign tried a tactic I’ve often seen students employ: miniaturizing the punctuation mark. The student hopes that if the word needs an apostrophe, the teacher will see one, and if it doesn’t, the teacher will see an untidy smudge. I should note that hedging a punctuation bet this way never works, in class or in signs.

Now for the AWOL Department. This sign, in an elevator serviced by a major airline that should know better, lacks an apostrophe:

There are more problems with this sign than writing FIREMANS instead of FIREMAN’S. First of all, I sincerely hope that more than one person would respond to a blaze in an airport. A blaze anywhere, for that matter! Thus I have a problem with FIREMAN, a singular noun. Second, the sign has a gender problem. If I were a FIREFIGHTER (a more accurate and inclusive term), I’d be tempted to thwack this sign with my extinguisher and put a dent in FIREMANS.

This one is in a category all by itself:

I wonder what sort of goals a numeral can have. Does 1 aspire to become 2? Aim for 10? Perhaps 1 aspires to a fancier font?

Maybe there’s a 1 somewhere in the world striving to curtail gun violence. I can get behind that last goal, for sure, and you probably can, too. If only the shop displaying this sign could help us refine that goal and create an action plan. That would undoubtedly be in EVERY 1’S best interest.

During the Pandemic

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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.

Quality Time

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How do you judge the quality of something you’re purchasing? By listening to friends’ recommendations, checking online reviews, reading tea leaves? Perhaps you place your trust in signs — not omens, but actual signs, such as this one:

This may be the workplace of a superb tailor, but I object to the phrase one of the best. What does that mean, exactly? One of the best on the block? (That’s likely, as it’s the only tailor on the block.) One of the best in the neighborhood? There might be some argument about that. In the country? The world? The universe? (Hey, if there can be a “Miss Universe,” there can be a “Best Tailor in the Universe,” too.) However vague the claim may be, the store has guaranteed it. It would be interesting to see a dissatisfied customer try to collect!

I had to check the dictionary for this next statement of quality, painted on the side of a van. I usually hide company names when I post signs, but in this case, the name is part of the point.

WE STAND UP TO OUR NAME! When I read this sentence, I pictured someone from the High Definition Cooling Company with hands on hips, defiantly facing the name because . . . well, what does a name have to do to motivate workers to stand up to it? Unable to think of a plausible scenario, I turned to the Oxford English Dictionary for other definitions of stand up to. I found “remain firm in the face of” (stood up to a strong wind), “pass a test” (stood up to close examination), and “rise for a purpose” (stood up to dance). I confess I can’t make any of these definitions work.

Nor do I know what this sign means:

Returning to the OED, I read that uncompromising means “not willing to seek compromise,” “stiff,” “stubborn,” and “unbending.” Okay, the signwriter is touting a style and quality that will not change. But what sort of style and quality does the product have? If it’s an ugly style or a poor quality, most people would prefer a little compromise. I would, and in that spirit, I welcome alternative interpretations of these signs and of the style and quality of this post.

Quiz Time

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Why? Such a simple question. Unfortunately, the answer may be anything but, especially when it comes to signs, as in “why did they write that, in that way?”

My friend Amy sent this photo:

There’s some punctuation missing from the sentence beginning with wildlife. A comma after area would directly address wildlife, telling them to be cautious. That interpretation gives rise to two questions: (1) Aren’t wildlife instinctively cautious? and (2) Can wildlife read? Another possibility is that a colon went AWOL from its spot following area. Reinsert it and the sentence becomes a command to be cautious, addressed to whoever is supposed to STAY OUT. That’s more logical but probably ineffective, because some forms of wildlife (the human variety) are capable of interpreting a simple prohibition as a dare. Side point: can somebody please explain the rationale behind the capital-letter and period distribution?

I spotted this sign in a botanical garden on the east bank of the Hudson River:

The Shop is stocked with unusual items, and I’m always interested in checking out a sale. I didn’t buy anything during my visit, though, because I spent my time wondering why at is italicized. Also, why at? What’s wrong with The Shop in Wave Hill or The Shop of Wave Hill? Even The Shop for Wave Hill makes sense, as this is a nonprofit.

My friend Jacqueline found this message in a fortune cookie she cracked open after dinner at (unitalicized!) our favorite Chinese restaurant:

She pointed out that what is right and what you should do are generally supposed to be the same thing. Right?

I welcome your theories about (or for, on, or even at) these signs.