Tag Archives: Words

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Lost In Space

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It’s a shame that we lost Neil Armstrong over the weekend, but I’m grateful that he was the one chosen to be the first to set foot on the moon. Imagine if, instead of the quiet, private Armstrong, a shameless braggart like Donald Trump had been first off the LEM. There’d have been no tranquility at Tranquility Base. Or should I say Trump Crater?

But Trump wouldn’t have had the patience to do the necessary training, nor the calm judgement to properly command that mission – “Aldrin, you’re fired! I mean, help us blast off here and get back to Earth, but then … you’re fired!” And of course the famous first quote would have been quite different.

“That’s one small step for man, but one giant leap for me, Donald Trump! No one else can ever be the first man on the moon. I Win! I’ll buy and sell hotels and casinos and make and lose fortunes, but this, I will own forever, and you’ll never stop hearing me talk about it!”

Neil Armstrong’s self portrait on the Moon, 1969.
Image courtesy of NASA

But then the statement we heard from Neil Armstrong was not exactly what he meant to say. Of all the gloves, nuts and bolts and bits of debris and flotsam that Americans have left in space in the course of our efforts to reach the moon, the particular item that interests me most is Neil Armstrong’s dropped “a”. When he stepped off the LEM an on to the moon’s dusty surface, people all around the world heard him say “That’s one small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

Later, Armstrong would insist that he actually said “That’s one small step for A man, one giant leap for mankind.” He acknowledged when listening to recordings made of his first moments on the moon that he didn’t hear the “a”, but confirmed that he said it. Or at least that he intended to say it.

I believe him, because adding an “a” before “man” is the only way his historic statement can make sense. Without it, he and mankind are essentially the same. And it suits this humble fellow that he would want to make a point of it – he is simply A man taking a step. The lasting achievement belongs to everyone.

Analysts have suggested the technology of the time may not have been good enough to capture a sound (35 milliseconds!) as brief as that singular “a”, but I prefer to believe that Armstrong’s indefinite article bounced off Earth’s invisible humility filter, and it is still drifting in space.

On a clear night you can still see it up there, tumbling.

Vowel fly, vowel high,
first vowel stuck in the sky.

Armstrongs ‘A’- his noble try
to let us know he’s just a guy

When have you had a crucial part of an important message lost in transmission?

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What’s the Harm in Monikers?

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Names are in the news again.

Holmes

You really can’t fault the organizers of the campaign to banish the uttering of mass-murder suspect James Holmes’ name. If it turns out that he is, in fact, guilty, they want to keep him from becoming famous for committing an unforgivable crime. Shunning is certainly a painful and effective punishment – excruciating even for the most anti-social and maladjusted among us. And if one could truly be left without an identity and so completely erased as to have never existed, that would be profound. But you know how we humans are. We’re always going to slap a title on things, even if it’s “That Thing Without A Name.”

I question the wisdom of turning our backs on evil – it’s much better to remember it and, if possible, tell stories about how it got that way. For my money, the name “James Holmes” is rather ordinary and already quite close to invisible. Sorry for the offense to all the James’s and Holmes’s out there. It would be a mercy to them if the name’s connection with this horror was covered over forever.

Ochocinco

A flashy name can be a marketing tool. Chad Ochocinco is a football player who used to be known as Chad Johnson, but he changed it to be a Latin echo of the number he wore on his uniform – “85”. He was pretty good as Johnson, but more flamboyant and memorable as Ochocinco. He played better as Johnson, got more press as Ochocinco, and was traded to the Miami Dolphins. Chad just got married and his new wife, Evelyn Lozada, let it be known she did not want to become an Ochocinco. So much for the show biz name – he’s going back to Johnson. “Chad Lozada” sounds nice, though. What would be wrong with that?

Mr. Leader

Over in London, Mitt Romney learned how difficult it is to be perfect when everyone is watching every move and examining each word. The British press is aggressive to begin with. They pounced on poor Mitt repeatedly. In one gaffe, the expected Republican nominee gave the head of Britain’s Labour Party by the wrong honorific. The Wall Street Journal says:

Unfortunately, as Mr. Romney was seeking to get back on track, Mr. Romney incorrectly called Mr. Miliband, the leader of the Labour Party, “Mr. Leader.” This is not what he is called, as the local media was quick to point out.

Britain is so overloaded with titled people, it would be difficult for a visitor to keep track. I credit Romney with a good guess under pressure. Why not “Mr. Leader”? I don’t know how the British Labour Party chief is supposed to be addressed. His party is not the one running the government, so would “Your irrelevance” be appropriate? And what about the Brits addressing Romney? That can’t be easy. What do you call the presumptive presidential nominee (but not yet) of the party out of power in the executive branch but very much calling the shots in the legislative branch. “Mr. Squarejaw Pricey Pants”?

Clearly, names are frustrating, provocative and exhausting.

But a good one will take you far.

What honorific would you attach to spice up your name?

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Whispering in the Cemetery

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Today’s post comes from marketing whiz and ideas man Spin Williams, who is always in residence at The Meeting That Never Ends.

Just saw a great concept described in this newspaper article – tombstones with codes chiseled in them so people can use a cell phone to link to text, photos and video of the deceased.

Everybody wants to live forever! I know I do! If that’s not possible, at least make it so I can force people to listen to me after I’m dead. Lecturing from the grave has got to be the next best thing to perpetual life. Better, really! If someone has to hear you talk, the fact that you are dead adds interest. Especially if they are under the delusion that you are somehow nearby, and can see them too!

That’s why connecting your sound and fury to the location of your buried remains is such a genius idea. Standing there at your tombstone, hearing you rattle on about integrity, discipline and the importance of family, people might imagine that you are present in the space and could possibly lash out with a breeze, a rumble beneath the earth, or even the chilling touch of an icy, invisible hand! That’s why cemeteries can be such creepy fun!

There’s just one drawback.

I’m guessing it will never be common for folks to go wandering around the graveyard scanning tombstones with their smart phones. Could be wrong, but I just don’t see that happening. The living are busy and so self absorbed! They won’t have the time and certainly won’t have enough interest to find out what your life lessons were.

This means big disappointment for those who will shell out for the full talking tombstone treatment. When they they check the web statistics, they will discover that it is only grieving relatives who access their digital remains, and with decreasing regularity since expired folks typically do not record or post fresh material.

If what you want is to bestow your timeless wisdom on a thoughtless world that has forgotten you existed, you need to place your QR code in a location that has higher traffic than the local boneyard.

The ancient Egyptians had this all figured out, carving their hieroglyphics into public buildings. Why not do the same thing with your QR code? Forget the cemetery! There are enough similarities – the QR code and hieroglyphics are pretty much identical. To me, anyway!

Face it, these would look so cool side-by-side on your memorial pyramid.

But most (all) of us won’t get a pyramid, so why not take your tombstone money and mount a posthumous ad campaign where people can see it?
Have your QR code carved into the side of the Vikings new pleasure dome in downtown Minneapolis. I’m sure Zygi Wilf would take your money in exchange for a nice blotchy design that could create some appealing texture on those monumental outside walls.

And if somebody accidentally scans it while calling their bookie to place another $500 on Minnesota’s opponent of the week, they’ll get a chance to hear your words of wisdom – “Don’t waste your money in gambling. Especially on the Vikings.”

Your Entrepreneurial Friend,

Spin Williams

What would your talking tombstone say?

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Impending Merger

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Possibly the most intriguing bit of news I’ve heard in the past few weeks is the new level of certainty reached by scientists that our Milky Way Galaxy and the Andromeda Galaxy will merge in about 4 billion years.

There had been some doubt. Sky watchers have noticed the movements and have wondered if the two galaxies might be drawn together by their gravity – this at a time when the universe itself is expanding faster and faster, leaving even more emptiness between the objects. But these two galaxies are close enough that the expansion will not draw them apart.

Galaxies, as big as they are, have their own destiny and ours apparently is to join with Andromeda.

We’re talking about billions of stars, some (maybe all) dragging a retinue of planets, asteroids, comets and debris, coming together in one grand conglomeration. And yet none of the stars will hit each other! This was said with certainty in one article I read – yet how can they know?

And if the merger of two galaxies is anything like the acquisition/merger of two corporations here on Earth, there are bound to be casualties. Several hundred duplicate retail outlets and half the staff of the PR department, for example.

Two things drove the magnitude of this event home for me –

One is a video simulation of the galaxies as they are expected to interact – an initial co-mingling 4 billion years from now with momentum that carries them apart again, and a final, second alignment 2 billion years later. Looks like fun if you’re not in the middle of it!

The other is a simulation of the night sky as seen from Earth with Andromeda approaching – about 3.75 billion years from now. Imagine if you went outside and saw this.

Beautiful, romantic, and a bit like looking down the train tracks at the onrushing southbound commuter as your wheels spin in the mud. Gulp.

Who knows if we, as humans, will still be around to witness the merger? Probably not. But I did see a cockroach the other day and I tried to tell him (her?) to keep an eye on the sky for big changes. I got the usual disappearing act for an answer.

In such an unpredictable world, I’m amazed whenever we KNOW something is going to happen for certain and for sure. Galaxies will collide. Neither Congress nor the Koch brothers will be able to stall it or stop it or spin it.

As in corporate mergers, making everyone feel comfortable with joining the new entity will be a challenge. Maybe a clever name and some good signage will help.

What should we call the new galaxy?

Poems

Too Many Words!

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I have this feeling I’ve written an excessive number of blog posts about clutter.

But every so often it hits me that it would be a great topic! So I go ahead and write about clutter because I’ve temporarily forgotten the other 28 identical posts that are jammed in the back of the old blog drawer. And now I have another one. Sigh.

Because I invest so much time in every precious post, I’m loathe to delete even one in spite of the fact that I know I will never go back to read it again. And neither will anyone else.

I’m not alone in this. The New York Times “Well” blog writer Jane Brody has a new post about clutter that picks up where she left off on an older post about clutter. She doesn’t seem to be bothered by an unsightly accumulation of words on the topic. Maybe that’s because she’s had such success unloading a lot of other useless stuff.

There’s a lot to be said for getting rid of books, even though committed book people feel they lose a little bit of their soul each time they cart one out of the house – especially the favorite volumes of their youth. Brody finds strength as she goes on, learning that it gets easier the more debris you shovel out the door. I’m happy for her.

But a surprising number of reader comments go the other way, decrying the “smug” attitude of anti-clutter fanatics who use tough love to force people to toss things that may someday become family treasures, like old works of art you never look at anymore, ancient photographs and precious hardcover volumes of literature.

I can’t claim to have read many of those classics, though I tried to wade through “Moby Dick” once and found it a tough slog indeed. Too many words. Melville should have read “The Hoarder In You” by Dr. Robin Zasio – a book Brody praises.

“I would say that Dr. Zasio’s book is about the best self-help work I’ve read in my 46 years as a health and science writer. She seems to know all the excuses and impediments to coping effectively with a cluttering problem, and she offers practical, clinically proven antidotes to them.”

That’s 50 words. Nice, but I think it could be done in 35.

Since we can’t clean each other’s closets and it would be wrong to compost someone else’s books, let’s de-clutter texts today. Think how free that old word hoarder Melville would have felt if he’d reduced his opus to a more manageable haiku:

Chasing the White Whale
Captain Ahab lost his leg
And his mind went too.

Or Tolstoy:

“It’s like ‘War and Peace'”
says the thing is “too damn long”.
Whatever it is.

What do you have too much of?

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Birth of the Bard

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Today is Shakespeare’s Birthday, we assume.
Three days hence the books note his baptism
Counting backwards experts all presume
For natal days, this one must be his’n.

Wrote sonnets and some pretty famous plays.
Penned some lines that surely are immortal.
With “bated breath” and other turns of phrase
that give us pause and cause enough to chortle.

No bigger star in scribb’ling has there been,
Nor likely will there be tomorrow.
All who write have lost ‘fore they begin.
Naught to do but read, admire and borrow.

What gift for Shakespeare’s birthday? But of course!
A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!

What’s your favorite line from Shakespeare?

The Baboon Congress

Inflated Superstition

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Today’s Guest Post comes from Clyde.

I had four flat bike tires in eight days. Then a week later my wife said, “Well, you haven’t had a flat in a few days.” I gritted my teeth, but did not answer her. Why did she have to say THAT?

I am a strange contradiction in a way. I have some education in and a strong reading interest in the sciences. And I’m a Christian, well a Lutheran, which is the next thing to a Christian. I have some education in and a strong reading interest in religion. While those two things are supposed to be in conflict, they should together rid me of all superstitions. Nevertheless, I have had one and only one superstition my whole life, but I can never shake it. It is the fear that words will make the opposite so. You know the “knock on wood” superstition.

When someone says something I fear may make the opposite happen, I do not knock on wood. I mean, that would be just stupidly superstitious. I would, however, never say that I had gone for awhile without a flat. (I just checked this minute–no flat. Pshew.) I might even say something like “Yep, bet I’ll get another flat” hoping my words will prevent a flat. (Just checked again on the bike tires. Still okay. But bet I get one, nudge, nudge, wink, wink.)

I have a perfectly logical explanation for why I had the flats. God’s out to get me. No. Don’t be ridiculous. First, the streets and sidewalks, which is where I do almost all my riding, have quite a bit of glass on them this time of year before the city gets out with street sweepers. Second, when I put the bike away last fall, I made a note to remember that both tires were worn down, which is the number one way to get flats. I did remember the worn tires when I started riding a few weeks ago. But this is April. You know, tax month. I am SURE I will owe A LOT when I get them back from my accountant. A LOT. (Nudge, nudge, wink, wink.)

I had no choice but to buy new tires. So now I’m sure I won’t . . .

Well, let’s just not say it.

What are your superstitions, perhaps in spite of yourself?

Songs

Old Soldiers

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This is the anniversary of General Douglas MacArthur’s farewell address, which included the catchphrase “Old Soliders Never Die, They Just Fade Away.”

Definitely not fading away here.

To my way of thinking, the line is more appropriate to describe the end of the perpetual Disc Jockey.
Dick Clark did just fade away, gradually vanishing like so many of the songs he promoted, the volume sliding down to an imperceptible nothing.

But for soldiers? I’m puzzled.

Why is just fading away any better or more appropriate for an old soldier than dying? Especially in a business where dying is such an ever present and immediate risk? We certainly know that young soldiers die – far too many of them. Why would old soldiers find any comfort in the prospect of a long fade? Or is this an expression of regret that they can’t go out in a blaze of glory like the young comrades they lost so many years ago? I don’t get the point. Soldiers? Anyone?

The famous line comes at the end of the speech, which was given to a Joint Session of Congress on April 19th, 1951.

“I still remember the refrain of one of the most popular barracks ballads of that day which proclaimed most proudly that old soldiers never die; they just fade away. And like the old soldier of that ballad, I now close my military career and just fade away, an old soldier who tried to do his duty as God gave him the light to see that duty.
Good Bye.”

The line comes from an old “barracks ballad”? I didn’t know that, and wondered if perhaps seeing the words to the ballad might shed some light on the sentiment. I didn’t find much on my first few tries with Google, but fortunately for me there’s Subtropic Bob, who writes a blog called “This Day In Quotes.”

Subtropic did some digging last year and managed to connect the quote to a hymn called “Kind Words Never Die”, which makes the case that kind words, sweet thoughts and human souls are eternal. Linking that idea to old soldiers was apparently a work of parody, and not a flattering one at that (what parody ever is?).

“Old soldiers never die,
Never die, never die,
Old soldiers never die —
They simply fade away.

Old soldiers never die,
Never die, never die,
Old soldiers never die —
Young ones wish they would.”

If this is actually the song MacArthur recalled, the proclamation about old soldiers sounds far from proud. But at the time he gave his speech, the General was looking back on a 52 year military career. It is entirely possible that this popular, poignant saying is actually a lyric lifted from a misremembered, cheeky song meant to mock the very same people who now shed a tear over it. The lesson for satirists – time wears away the sharp edges of your biting wit, and the joke is ultimately on you.

What would be a more modern version of MacArthur’s inadvertent transformation of a joke into into a poignant benediction? Imagine some long-serving college president made this comment as the final lines in a farewell speech …

“I still remember the refrain of one of the most popular dormitory ballads of that day which proclaimed most proudly that ‘in the end, I learned to bend, and did it their way.’ So now I close my career in academe, I say to you what is a man? What can I do? Open your books. Read chapter Two. And if it seems a bit routine don’t talk to me, go see the dean. They get their way. I get my pay. We do it … their way.”

What song lyrics would you lift for your Farewell Address?

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Lover Word

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Late in the day in yesterday’s comments section for the post “Word Lover”, Clyde had an interesting observation that some may have missed, so I’ll repeat it here:

True, there seems to be a missing word. “Master” is the logical choice, but the powerful connotations of that word really don’t line up with what we think of as “mistress” role. We have to think again.

For sheer economy, it’s hard to top “Misteress”. But I’m guessing most people wouldn’t catch the slight difference in pronunciation. The Urban Dictionary says the right word is “Manstress“. That’s better, but still wrong to my ear. I hear “Manstress” as your male friend who is agonizing to be around.

The commentators across the pond at Yahoo Answers in the UK and Ireland had some better ideas. I like “Histress”, “Consort” and “Kept Man”.

But still, none of these strike me as carrying the same quality of ownership as “Mistress”. As Clyde points out, that fact that a man HAS a mistress carries some added significance. Why doesn’t the mistress HAVE the man?

Some say the absence of a proper word for this relationship is the result of centuries of male domination – women haven’t possessed the power to play the same role in the relationship as a man does with his mistress. The fact that we’re talking about it now may indicate that times have changed enough to make the coining of a new word possible.

That means this is a moment of great opportunity!

I can think of at least one contemporary reference that may have enough unique strengths to carry forward as the new term for a man who is in an inappropriate relationship with a powerful woman who is not his wife. But I’m not sure we are really ready to hear this:

“That man isn’t her husband. Don’t you know? The rumor is she has a brodkorb.”

What makes a coined word or phrase catch on and become part of the language?

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Loose Lips Sink Ships

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Today’s post comes from Trail Baboon’s Living and Loving correspondent and a man who is a bottomless well of wellness – B. Marty Barry.

Greetings to all my friends struggling against the relentless currents of life. I’m here to grace you with my wisdom about your misguided choices. And it just so happens my topic today is very current – what happened to personal responsibility and accountability?

That’s the exact same question famous talker Rush Limbaugh asked in the middle of his apology to Sandra Fluke this weekend, although I hesitate to call anything an apology when it asks such a question and also includes a mini-lecture.

Oh, how I wish Rush would become a client of mine! Our counseling appointments would be sublime. He would talk and talk and talk, and he’s incredibly rich, so scheduling another few hours on the couch would be no problem for him. I would listen and nod and murmur and take notes. He would never ask for a response of any kind from me, so I could be as blunt and straightforward as I want in my personal session notes.

If he ever did ask for an opinion, I would have some at the ready.

For instance, on his apology:

Apologies should be brief. One should not try to explain one’s self in an apology –just take responsibility and express remorse. That’s it. Job done. The only question I can think of that might be part of a decent apology is “what was I thinking?”

And what about that personal responsibility thing? I know Rush was thinking about sexual behavior, but there’s a lot of responsibility involved in choosing words too. And he DID admit to making some poor choices there.

Unfortunately our society has come to a place where some people are rewarded for saying the first dumb word that comes to mind just because it feels humorous and clever and good. And sometimes that’s all it is – a wacky, impulsive, irresponsible choice.

But on certain occasions something happens and a dumb word takes root and begins to grow. And as it grows, it turns into a living thing that must be fed, even if it wants to eat your job. You can’t turn your back on that – you have to reckon with it.

And yet some of these same thrill seekers think they can undo their language mistakes by using word contraceptives like “I chose the wrong words” and “I did not mean a personal attack” and so forth, basically covering their earlier statements with a thin, transparent sheath of something that sounds like regret.

The success rate for this technique is, at best, mixed. And word contraceptives should always be used BEFORE speaking, not afterwards.

The consequences can be severe, so be cautious when you feel the urge to start playing with words! Be discreet and take personal responsibility for what you say, especially when it comes to words about sex, because things can go south pretty rapidly.

And I probably shouldn’t have said it that way.

Time’s up! I think we got a lot done today. And please remember that although I’ve never met you, I do care about you very, very, very much.

What makes for an effective apology?