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Word Origins

Maybe I'm just on a language kick lately, but do you think Kojak was named after Co-Jack?

The Politics Of Language

This post is not about politics, per say. That is, I'm not here to discuss issues (although that would be novel these days) or postulate for one candidate or another. This is rather a look at how politicians tweak their opponents statements just enough to besmirch them. It's a look at language and meaning, not policies and positions.

It happens on both sides of the aisle, but this one jumped out at me because it actually featured the quote that it went on to misrepresent. Here is one of Obama's latest ads targeting McCain, called "Foreign Vehicles".

Sounds pretty damning, huh?

Here's McCain's statement, as shown in the video: "I've bought American, literally, all of my life".

Obama says that's a lie because he currently owns 3 foreign vehicles.

Now, aside from the obvious question, "Did McCain actually buy them or did his wife?"—which invalidates the whole premise, as McCain's statement was about purchase, not ownership—a simple look at the sentence shows that there is no contradiction.

McCain didn't claim he'd never bought foreign cars. He didn't say, "I've ONLY bought American". He said he's bought American his whole life. And based on the evidence presented in the ad, he currently owns eight ten American cars. This is entirely consistent with his statement.

There's enough substantive differences between these two guys to fill prime time with solid ads. I wish they'd focus on the stuff that matters instead of playing word games that seek to delude voters, not inform them.

UPDATE: Ha! This just gets better (kinda like my math, see above correction). Apparently "...McCain’s personal car... a Cadillac CTS—contains 82 percent of domestic-manufactured parts while Obama’s Ford contains only 63 percent." (link)

The Rrrright Stuf

So Ali has learned how to roll her "R"s. I guess all that Dora and Diego finally paid off. But the funny thing is that now she tries to roll any double letter. Like "Daddy" becomes "Dadrdrdry". I can't even type what that sounds like. Listen to the audio at the end. It's the first thing she says.

She'll also roll single r's, like when "car" becomes "carrrr". And she'll sing as just a bunch of trilling rolling r's. Pretty funny.

I recorded her saying a sentence on my phone, but it sounds like CRAP. How can something that is designed for you to talk into have such horrible recordings? Anyway, if you ever wanted to know what it sounds like listening to a wiretap of a five year old speaking in rolling r's, enjoy.

Rollin' With My Ali

Continuing A Theme

I posted before about my made-up differences between co-workers and near-workers. Now, after moving to a different part of the office, I think I want to add another distinction—"ear-workers".

An ear-worker is someone who works within ear shot of you (ie: can overhear your phone calls, meetings in your cube, etc.), but you have no interaction with whatsoever.

So to sum up we have (so far):

Co-worker: Someone you work with and actually DO work with. People on your same team/department, your boss, internal clients, etc.

Near-worker: Someone you work with, but you don't actually DO work with. You know each other's names and maybe some personal info (family, hobbies, etc), but you hardly ever (if ever) work together on projects.

Ear-worker: Someone who can overhear your work day, but you have no professional or personal interaction with.

Anybody want to add anything or just mock me?

Ask Alfredo: Punctuation

Alfredo is a 2nd generation Cuban-American who knows many things. If there is a question you have ever wanted answered, now you can Ask Alfredo.

This week, Norbert in Nerdalert, Wisconsin asks: Alfredo, I sometimes have trouble sleeping at night when I think of all the complicated rules of proper punctuation. I worry about whether the period goes in or out of the parenthesis and why we no longer add two spaces after ending a sentence. But I noticed that you don’t seem to fear these things. Why Alfredo?

Dear Norberto,

Navigating the tumultuous punctuation and grammatical quagmire of the 21st century can be difficult. You ask why I am not up at night worried about it? You know why. Yes…you do: Alfredo is not a nerd. Alfredo is confident, certain, and charmingly handsome. And I, Alfredo, know a little something about the history of punctuation that helps me sleep a little better than most.

The Castro regime has helped suppress the fact that Cubans lead the world in advanced punctuation. I am talking about the little upside down question mark that Cubans put BEFORE a sentence.

For those of you who have not had the great benefit of reading Spanish, this will be new. However, some of my readers have had the blessing of reading the mother tongue that Adam and Eve spoke before the fall (What, you thought they spoke a form of English?).

Cubans invented the inverted question mark to warn the reader of an upcoming query. Let me show you an example of its usefulness and then I will give you its history.

Please read this common English sentence:

The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog?

Ah! You expected a sentence and Alfredo surprised you at the end by adding a question mark. You found yourself scrambling to add a little up-talk in your voice at the end to make it appear as if you knew it was a question all along. But you didn’t! Now read it again, this time being forewarned by the inverted question mark and note the difference.

¿The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog?

You see?! When you read it the first time you were dull, slow, and boorish. And you had circles under your eyes. But when you knew the question was coming, you sat straighter in your chair, took a deep breath, smiled a little, and properly emphasized the five points of query inflection inherent in that sentence. In short, you were brilliant! And what made the difference? The flipiripi.

Before you go and pronounce this the wrong way: It is NOT pronounced “flip-ah-RIP-e”! The closest correct pronunciation is “flee-pee-REE-pee”. And its history is, like many things, tied to the history of the great Cuban people.

In 1506, one of Cuba’s earliest settlers sent Queen Isabela of Spain a note included in a shipment of plunder stolen from the natives. His name was Don Justo Tamayo, and he decided to ask about the Queen’s health. This was in the early days of punctuation and he intended to ask if she felt ok. However the flipiripi had not been invented, and the Queen’s aides read the note to her as “you feel good”.

King Ferdinand overheard this while he took the royal bath and immediately dispatched a ship to bring back Don Justo’s head. Don Justo heard about this in advance and caught the next boat off of Cuba. It turns out that the ship that Don Justo Tamayo jumped on was commanded by Hernan Cortez, who was on his way to explore Mexico’s coast.

Don Justo was so troubled at having to leave his beautiful homeland, that upon arriving in Mexico he burned all of Cortez’s ships, and by 1512, he had conquered the whole of Mexico and slaughtered its inhabitants. (So I see, Norberto, why you are worried about improper punctuation.)

As a result of this unfortunate misunderstanding, the Crown decided upon a compromise. All future questions from Cuba to Spain should always be preceded by a question mark laying horizontal on the sentence. The flat-laying question mark was meant to demonstrate that Cubans were asking the question humbly, prone and prostrate before the King and Queen. Well, those settlers hadn’t been on the island long, but the flame of Cuban independence had started to flicker in their hearts and there was no way that they were going to lower themselves before Spain for long.

Don Pepe Bayamo, the governor of Cuba, sent a message back to Ferdinand and Isabela saying that the people of Cuba would not lie down. They would “rather be flipiripied upside down than to humble themselves”. So the “flipped” upside down question mark became the symbol of Cuban independence and only 400 years later in 1902 the battle was won! Viva Cuba Libre!

Alfredo is happy to share this historic moment with you. Maybe next time we can talk about other punctuation issues. Like why Fidel’s name should always be immediately preceded by %#@!#$$@!

Alfredo

You can leave your question and death threats for Alfredo in the comments.

Just A Reminder

More on this later, but I have to get to word out since apparently there's still the misconception: unless you are still using your grandmother's typewriter, you only put ONE space—not two—after a punctuation mark when ending a sentence.

ONE.

.....

cont. (3/25/08)
I have to admit, I'm surprised by the response to this little guy! I even got an email via the Facebook feed. Good times. Allow me to explain.

The Short Version: Spiff's comment points to the heart of the issue. Each character on a typewriter took up the same amount of space on the page. A period was just as wide as a capital M, just with more room around it. So to make it clear when the sentence was over, you had to put two spaces. This has been replicated in "monospaced" fonts, like Courier.

Most modern typefaces are "proportional", meaning that each character takes up an amount of space proportional to it's size. A period takes up a tiny bit, a cap M a lot. So one space after a period is "big" enough to show the end of one sentence and the start of the next.

The Long Version: Funny that motormouth should mention it, because I'm about to quote at length from the very first chapter of The Mac Is Not A Typewriter, which was first published in 1990. I have a first edition*, I'll have you know (2nd edition here). Oh, and don't let the "Mac" part of the title throw you. It applies to all computers.

One Space Between Sentences
Use only one space after periods, colons, exclamations points, question marks, quotation marks—any punctuation that separates two sentences.

What? you say! Yes—for years you've been told to hit two spaces after periods, and on a typewriter you should. But this is no typewriter.

On a typewriter, all the characters are monospaced; that is, they each take up the same amount of space—the letter i takes up as much space as the letter m. Because they are monosapced, you need to type two spaces after periods to separate one sentence from the next. But...

On a Macintosh (unless you're using the fonts Monaco or Courier, which are monospaced just like a typewriter and what would you want too sue those for anyway**) the characters are proportional; that is, they each take up a proportional amount of space—the letter i takes up about one-fifth the space of the letter m. So you no longer need extra spaces to separate the sentences.

...

Of course, this one-space rule applies just as well to the spacing after colons, semi-colons, questions marks, quotation marks, exclamation points, or any other punctuation you can think of. Yes, this is a difficult habit to break, but it must be done.

Take a look at any magazine or book on your shelf—you will never find two spaces between sentences.

Maybe next week we'll discuss the difference between hyphens, dashes, en dashes, and em dashes. And the Oxford comma***!

*Um... paperback.
**There are good reasons to use these fonts. She's making a joke, people!
***Screw you, Vampire Weekend!

.....

cont. (3/27/08)
Wow! You spend one day moving to a new cube and the most random post in the world ends up starting a turf war!

NP Steve, I hope our "pompous"-ness doesn't drive you away. :-)

The thing about all these typographic elements, is that they exist so that they can be invisible. That is, when properly used, they aid in comprehension and readability without the reader ever thinking about what they just saw.

These weren’t designed for kicks and giggles. They help you communicate clearly and concisely. Whether you're writing professionally (as several of the commenters do) or for a business presentation or a school paper or a blog post (ha! No doubles on the net!), you never want your reader to stop reading and start noticing what you've written. Does that make sense? Lemme give an example.

When typing on a computer, using two spaces after a period makes a noticeably large gap. A gap bigger than anything else you'll find on that page. Because you're not supposed to use two spaces. Modern typefaces (fonts, if you will) are DESIGNED and INTENDED for you to only have to press the space bar once. So by using two spaces, you actually work against your computer, word processor, and typeface designer.

The result is your reader is left with big visual potholes all over the page. Because all the thousands of people that made that computer of yours possible never intended for you to press the spacebar twice. And every time a reader comes to the end of a sentence, it’s like a tire dropping in a pothole. BANG!

Now I admit, my word picture is a bit more intense then the actual reading experience. But the idea is the same. There is an unexpectedly large drop (or break) in the visual flow. And when you’re writing, you want to minimize anything that would take your reader “out” of what they’re reading. You want to stay in their head, not have them stay on the page.

There was a reason why we did two spaces with typewriters. And there's a reason we do one now. There's not some "self-appointed arbiter" making things up. It's legit. It's not "nonsense" and it does very much have to do with flow and appearance. And it is totally the way the “pros” do it. Open any book or magazine and check. Even the Bible uses a single space after periods, so consider it inerrant.  ;-)

The same concept applies to hyphens, en dashes and em dashes. There are specific reasons and times when you use them (future post!). They have a purpose and a design. But the reader just sees them and automatically knows what they mean. They don't even have to think about it.

This is how type should work—it should be invisible. As Elvis Costello once said, "It had to be subtle if it was to have any meaning at all."

Listapalooza: Business Jargon

Jargon is an interesting thing. I remember one time, me and this guy Dave that I worked with in the computer repair shop in college were giving blood. We’re sitting on opposite gurneys, talking about work. I think half our conversation was in acronyms and numbers. Must have sounded so bizarre to anyone else.

Some jargon is designed to let those on the “inside” know who has been accepted and to keep the unwanted out. Slang from the street certainly fits this category. But what I hate is business jargon that seems to exist just to make you sound more “professional” without communicating anything that “normal” words couldn’t.

Here are some that make red hot flames engulf my vision.

Reaching Out: Oh, how I hate thee. Can’t you just say, “I called them” or whatever? “I reached out to the client and let them know we needed more info.” So. Lame.

Engagement: Let me share an actual quote from work. “We strive to deliver value-added products, resources, services and discounts for our Team Members to enhance their morale and engagement.” Don’t you just mean “so they’ll like their job”?

Needs: When used as a noun. It’s just lazy.

Download: This doesn’t bother me too much, but it’s really just a way of saying “tell”. “I’ll download Bobby about our meeting” vs. “I’ll tell Bobby about our meeting”. Save a syllable here, people.

Critical: Soooo overused. Not even half of the stuff that is deemed “critical” is really critical. “Our ability to deliver on the deep-fried Oreo timeframe is critical.” Consider me not worried. Also: “timeframe”.

Actionable: Basically means “something I can do”. I almost went with “Action Item”, but this is more pretentious. “This plan needs to be actionable.” Well, DUH! Shouldn’t ALL plans be like that? The only reason this word even exists is because people were having meetings that didn’t lead to change. And where do you hear this word used most? MEETINGS!

Recontextualize: Seriously, if you use this word, now you’re just feeling inadequate because you don’t actually know the English language. As ESPN once told my friend Pudge, “Read a book!”

What business jargon do you loathe?

Ask Alfredo: Stupid Questions

Alfredo is a 2nd generation Cuban-American who knows many things. If there is a question you have ever wanted answered, now you can Ask Alfredo.

This week, Earl from Duke, Pennsylvania writes: Dear Alfredo, over the years my school teachers told me that "the only stupid question is the one you don't ask." Is that really true?

Dear Duke of Earl,

Let me first thank you for asking me a question that is not directly related to Cuba. As a man whose blood is made of espresso, who sweats sugar cane, and whose heart beats to the rhythm of merengue, it is hard sometimes not to discuss the wisdom imparted to me via the Pearl of the Antilles. So, today I will focus only on your less interesting question.

It turns out Earl that there is, in fact, such thing as a stupid question. Here is the definition:

A stupid question is the one you ask...that turns out...to be stupid!

As a veteran columnist, I have been asked countless questions and the "stupid question" issue is a source of great humor at the columnists’ conventions that I attend with the likes of Dear Ann, Dear Abby, and others. (One of them died, but they were twins and it's so hard to tell twins apart, so I just call the remaining one “Dear…” and I get by ok)

I tell them "Dear, why do you bother answering stupid questions like 'my mother-in-law always brings me hostess gifts that are never as valuable as the hostess gifts that I bring her, and mine are always wrapped in nicer paper…should I divorce her son over this?'"

Then Ann (or Abby?) starts to answer, but I don’t really care what they have to say and I wander off to see if I can find that guy Uncle Matty who writes the dog training column and has a show on PBS. I want to tell him that since Cesar Milan came on the scene with The Dog Whisperer, Matty looks like Betsy Ross trying to show Isaac Singer how to run a sewing machine. (I was going to say he looks like Betsy Ross trying to show a 10-year-old Pakistani boy how to sew a soccer ball, but that would be crude and insensitive)

My point is that we have too much tolerance for stupidity.

When my former governor Jeb Bush debated game show host Bob Barker over the merits of animal neutering…(note this reference does not even meet Wikipedia’s lowest guidelines for credible citation)...Shut up! This is totally true. Don’t put little ( ) after what I say!

Anyway, Bob asked a stupid question and Jeb, who is fluent in Spanish and very near to the hearts of Cuban Americans, used the question as what is known as a "learning opportunity" to make a point. He threw his glass of water in Bob Barker’s face and said (in Spanish), "Roberto, THAT is a stupid question! If you ask that again I SWEAR I will walk over there and make you wish you hadn't!"

It was later admitted by Pat Sajak in his autobiography, "How Do I Still Have A Job?", that the debate was the beginning of the end of Bob’s career. It also marked the end of political debaters being given glasses of water at their podiums. If you notice, today’s debaters are given small plastic bottles at room temperature so the condensation doesn’t form on the sides and spill down the front of their suit while they speak. Ha! You didn’t know that, did you?

So Duke, there you have it. There is such thing as a stupid question. You may wonder whether I am gifted with this vast knowledge because of my years of strenuous studies and advanced university education, or simply because my Cuban ancestry entitles me to speak boldly on many subjects on which I am innately qualified to answer simply because my DNA has empowered me to do so.

In summary, don’t ask stupid questions.

Alfredo

You can leave your question and love letters for Alfredo in the comments or use the email address in the sidebar listed as "Email Me".

How You Say...

If you work in a cube farm, as I do, there are people you work around that you don't work with. That is, I work in the Advertising department. During the day, I will regularly pass people in the halls from IS, Interactive, Annual Pass, and CRM. And that's just in my building. Toss in the building next door, and you've got a whole other host of people.

But I really only consider the people I work with on jobs my co-workers, in the strictest sense. So I suggest the word "near-worker", for people you work near, but not with. I chose "near-worker" because "coterminous-worker" seemed too pretentious.

English being what it is, I would assume a word expressing this concept already exists. Please inform me if it does. Assuming you are in a similar working situation, would you find this word useful?

Peevalicious

I just discovered a blog that tracks one of my personal pet peeves — unnecessary quotation marks. Now let's put that camera phone to good use...

Other "abuse" blogs:

• The word literally
• The apostrophe
• The lowercase l
• And just for fun... crummy church signs

HT: PyroManiacs