Tag Archives: English usage

Dictionary, 2020-2021 Edition

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Last year yielded a number of words I wish I hadn’t had to learn and fervently hope not to need much longer. To wit:

pod Formerly: a container, like the inedible green things that peas grow in or, in trendy offices and schools, a partly-enclosed seating area for work or study. Currently: the group you can hang out with indoors and maskless, knowing that everyone’s germs have already mingled. Also a verb, as in “I podded up with my son and his family after I passed quarantine.”

doomscroll An unfortunately apt verb, arising from the fact that nearly everything on our screens these days foretells impending doom in one form or another. An inadvisable practice because if the sky is falling (pretty much the only disaster we haven’t had to worry about in the last 12 months), it will fall whether we obsess about it or not.

Blursday Vague but useful time marker for when you never see anyone or anything new (see pod, doomscroll above).

Murder Hornet As if 2020 weren’t bad enough. And yes, they’re real.

Also real is this sign from the window of a dentist’s office:

Presumably the first option makes you not care that your teeth really need the second.

I could go on (and on and on, see Blursday) but instead I’ll end this post with two words I do NOT understand, as in why anyone would ever select them: X Æ A-12 and !!!!!. The first is the name of Elon Musk and Grimes’s son, the second this deli:

X Æ A-12 is still with us, but !!!!! went out of business long before the pandemic, perhaps because employees couldn’t figure out how to answer the phone. “Hello, you’ve reached !!!!!, may I take your order?” is a little hard to imagine.

Feel free to send me your own candidates for words you wish you didn’t know. Happy Blursday to you, and happy new year, too.

Shopping Guide

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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.

For the Birds

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Although a number of pet birds have flown around my living room through the years, I tend to divide avian wildlife in New York City into two categories, as this sign does:

Why single out pigeons? Here’s my theory: if you have one or two pigeons, they’re beautiful — a feathered palette of grays and whites with touches of black. But that’s never what you actually have. You have a flock, a megaflock, many megaflocks! You have a pigeony exponential growth-curve akin to the one Covid-19 has, unfortunately, made us all too familiar with.

Pigeons also make an appearance in this sign, which a reader spotted in a park:

The reader remarked that she “would have thought NYC already had plenty of these without anyone having to breed more.” I join her in rejecting this imperative sentence.

Still another pigeon, because, as I said, you really can’t have just one:

You can read this sign two ways. (1) You’re not required to feed a pigeon and clean-up, but doing so would be nice. (2) You’re not supposed to feed the pigeon, but you’re going to do it anyway, so could you please remove the inevitable end product? It’s the law. Which surprises me. I know there are all sorts of laws about snow removal — how much time may elapse after the last flake falls before you must shovel a path for pedestrians, for example. Is there also a time limit on poop? Do you have to sit around staring at the pigeon you’ve just (illegally) fed, so you can scoop the end product? Asking for a friend.

That’s it for pigeons, you’ll be glad to know. But not for birds. Below is one of the first signs I spotted when I started this blog:

Then, as now, I smiled to think of how you would sit . . . birds. Bend their little legs? Offer a chair? I’ll leave you with that image, hoping it cheers you, and any pigeons you’ve befriended.

What I Meant Was . . .

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I think and also hope that what these signwriters think they said is different from what actually landed on the page. Or screen. Or metal sheet. Wherever! Take a look at this one, courtesy of my friend Don:

Someone killed 3 Pedestrians for my own Safety? Please let that not be true. Also, what will Repeat to cross other side? Homicide? And don’t get me started on the green man’s activity.

Another, which I spotted while obsessively checking apartment listings in my building to find out who’s moving:

I’m wondering which hairdresser the apartment owner went to for Coiffured Ceilings. I have to admit that my own ceilings have never been cut, dyed, or curled. However, they are coffered by support beams. Does that make me stylish enough?

Probably not. I do sometimes shop at a fancy grocery, where the food is better than the accuracy of the “best if bought by” date:

True, time is relative and certain portions of 2020 have seemed endless, but September 31st? Nope. Well, maybe if there’s a recount . . .

Paging Autocorrect

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Before autocorrect, I’d sometimes proofread my work and find hte. “C’mon, computer,” I’d think in exasperation. “You know I meant the!” Autocorrect has brought its own problems, of course, but it certainly would improve these mangled expressions:

I can think of a lot of reasons to swing open cell doors, but criminalized onion relish isn’t one of them. Side point: Is Prime topside a real cut of beef?

Next is a sentence a friend found in a concert announcement:

We’re excited to open the series with a performance featuring renounced vocalist. . . .

I’ve omitted the name of the renounced vocalist, who is innocent, I’m sure. The copywriters, on the other hand — let’s just say that if we weren’t already in pandemic lockdown, I’d recommend they serve detention.

Whoever wrote this should do serious time for Crimes Against Language:

The spelling mistakes don’t bother me. If I can type hte, I can forgive becarse and unassemboed. Ditto for the odd capitalization and punctuation. What gets me is the last sentence. Is there really a correct way to cause a series of problems? Extending the point, is there an incorrect way? Just thinking about this is enough to make the screws loose.

Keep your screws tight, try not to renounce anyone, and don’t criminalize condiments. And stay fsae. I mean safe. Thanks, Autocorrect.

How Do I Look?

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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!

Huh?

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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

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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

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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.

Challenge

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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.