Tag Archives: English usage

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.

Animation

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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!

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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?

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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.

Proof

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The signs in this post are proof (noun) that you should always proof (verb) your writing. If you don’t, well, read on to see some possible consequences.

My friend Barry sent me this headline:

Oh, the irony! Also the confusion, because the Spelling Bee might be on Thursday if the letter h went astray or on Tuesday if the letter r was mistakenly inserted in place of an e. Perhaps this year’s champ can be enlisted to proofread next year’s notice.

Also sent by Barry is this portion of a law proposed by state legislators:

The politicians crafting this sentence telling teachers how to teach should have spent a little more time on their own homework. Then perhaps they’d know that the word they were looking for is tenets, not tenants. Again, the irony.

This one, which my friend Mary sent, is fun:

I don’t own a car, but if I did, I’d certainly obey this sign and DRIVE WITH CAKE.

Last but not least:

Perhaps the council snatched an r from the Spelling Bee headline and grabbed an extra e from somewhere else?

The point of all these examples: rememberer two proffread!

The Trouble with D

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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

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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!

What’s for Dinner?

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Now that the holiday season has arrived, it seems appropriate to look at what we’re eating — not in terms of nutrition but rather identification. This is not always easy to do, as this label reveals:

How do crackers qualify as entertainment? They’ve always seem rather boring to me. I imagine the person who came up with this label decided consumers need to be told when to serve the product. But is it really so hard to figure out when to serve crackers? Are there rules for cracker serving, like a penalty if crackers show up in a lunch box?

On the same theme, take a look at this label for a vegan product, a Celebration Roast:

At least the label lets consumers know which veggies and fruit they’re eating when they tuck into a Celebration Roast. But stuffed implies a wrapper or a container (e.g. a turkey), and there’s no way to tell exactly what is stuffed with butternut squash, apples & mushrooms. The celebration? The cellophane the roast is packed in?

These signs offer specific (and useless) description:

Nice to know what shape my ham is in and the color palette and nationality of my cheese. And yes, I do know that American Cheese is the name of a processed product that bears a passing resemblance to cheddar. Nevertheless, I can’t help thinking that these signs lack essential information, such as whether the ham is cured or uncured and how many additives are present in a sandwich made from pear shape ham and yellow or white American cheese.

Bottom line: Please tell me what I am eating. Don’t tell me when I should eat it or what it looks like. Bon appetit!

Zero Problems

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Today’s theme is zero, with a short excursion into negative territory. First up is this sign, which I spotted while watching the New York City Marathon around mile 17:

I have to admit the statement is catchy. Who wouldn’t want to travel 0 MILES to reach a destination? But the emphatic O MILES obscures a different problem: 2.6 carbs and 95 cals (calories) in . . . well, in what, exactly? A thimble, a jug, or a barrel of BEER? The sign is akin to boasting of something’s being voted “the best” without specifying who cast ballots — perhaps the general public, experts in the field, or the owner’s two best friends. Context matters.

So does clarity:

Performing Arts for All Ages is clear, but the age range is puzzling. How does a 0-year-old engage in performing arts? Also, for how long is someone 0 Years old? Does enrollment take place during labor or at the moment of delivery?

Here’s a sign I saw in Madrid, Spain:

Translation: GROUP ZERO / POETRY AND PSYCHOANALYSIS. I won’t speculate why the group named itself ZERO or what happens in the illustrated room, with its flat couch and rather authoritative-looking chair. Feel free to send me your thoughts on how GROUP CERO might be combining POESIA and PSICOANALISIS.

Worse than zero problems are negative ones, as in this sign in a clothing store:

I understand, but object to, the labels attached to floors 2 and 1, partly because clothing doesn’t have to be sorted into rigid gender categories but mostly because the sign indicates two individuals: a Man and a Woman. (Otherwise the terms would be Men and Women.) The real problem, for me, is Kids -1. Having shopped with kids, I understand the temptation to drop one, but that temptation should be resisted, not codified. Or perhaps this is where you outfit kids who are 0 years old for their performing arts classes? But wouldn’t the floor be 0 in that case? Perhaps they sell maternity clothes there?

I welcome your theories about any of these signs and wish you zero problems in formulating them.

Number Games

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Innumeracy — the mathematical equivalent of illiteracy — is on full display in signs I’ve seen around New York in the last couple of years. Take a look at these:

Notice that Off-Broadway Week is 14 days long and Muji Week runs for 32 days. That’s good news for ticket-buyers and shoppers, but potentially bad news for actors, crew, and other employees. I hope they get paid by the hour, not by the week.

Here’s a sign I spotted on the First Avenue bus:

A note to non-New Yorkers: Manhattan streets are laid out on a numbered grid. The numbers get larger as you travel uptown and smaller as you travel downtown. The photo is a bit fuzzy (snapped on a moving vehicle) so I’ll type out the relevant parts: The stops are 14th Street, 23rd, 34th, 29th, and 42nd. Loopy route or miscalculation? Judging from the ride I took, I can affirm that the latter description, unlike the sign, is correct.

Before you go, check your numeracy by solving a math problem based on this sign:

If Alex and Sasha polish off six, 8 FL OZ servings of this beverage, how many calories does each ingest if Sasha drinks twice as much as Alex?

This is the spot where I should place the answer, upside down so you’re not tempted to peek. That’s beyond my Word Press skills, so I’ll leave you hanging. Post your answer in a comment, and I’ll let you know whether it’s correct. If you have trouble solving the problem, meet me on the uptown bus, somewhere between 34th and 29th Street, and I’ll tell you the answer.