Archive for 2011

Bel Kaufman

May 12, 2011

… still very much alive and entertaining, as we can read in today’s NYT:

At 100 years old, Ms. Kaufman [author of Up the Down Staircase (1965)] is still shpritzing jokes, Jewish and otherwise, which is in her genes. Her grandfather was the great Yiddish storyteller Sholem Aleichem, a writer who was able to squeeze heartbreaking humor out of the most threadbare deprivation and wove the bittersweet Tevye stories that became the source for “Fiddler on the Roof.”

This year, Ms. Kaufman did something more than tell jokes. She became one of the few adjunct professors in her age cohort and taught a course on Jewish humor at Hunter College, her alma mater. One of the jokes the class dissected:

“The Frenchman says: ‘I’m tired and thirsty. I must have wine.’ The German says: ‘I’m tired and thirsty. I must have beer.’ The Jew says: ‘I’m tired and thirsty. I must have diabetes.’ ”

Nice play on the ambiguity of must and of have, but also for me a wonderful recollection of my stepmother, Ruth A. Power, who many years ago wrote Kaufman an appreciative letter about Up the Down Staircase, starting a correspondence between the two of them, became her friend, and eventually visited her (from California’s Central Coast) in New York.

Defective, damaged etc.

May 12, 2011

A Zippy with a distressed — defective, damaged, rejected, and in fact delusional — statue:

In this I hear the echo of Isaiah 53:3, as we hear it in Handel’s Messiah:

He was despised and rejected, a man of sorrow and acquainted with grief.

But I have a question about the artwork. Bill Griffith is scrupulous about such things, so the work depicted in the strip is almost surely a real sculpture. Anyone recognize it?

Caravaggio meets Seiwert

May 12, 2011

(On art and sexuality, rather than language.)

Following up on my Caravaggio posting (which looked at Amor Vincit Omnia, Boy With a Basket of Fruit, and Bacchino Malato as instances of homoeroticism in art), I turn now to the interpretations of these works by Amsterdam photographer and digital artist Harald Seiwert in his Inspired photoset.

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Monty Glover’s fortune cookies

May 10, 2011

(Nothing of linguistic or socially redeeming value here. Just silliness and sexiness. Probably not for the kiddies, though not actually unWordPressable.)

A pairing of some Monty Glover photos with some Chinese cookie fortunes:

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Annals of parallelism

May 10, 2011

From the back-cover description of Monty’s Private Pictures: Thirty One Postcards from A Class Apart:

Montague Glover was born in 1897. A decorated Army Officer and a successful architect, he was also a keen amateur photographer. His pictures from the twenties and thirties chronicle the three great loves of his life: rough trade, men in uniform and a handsome young blond called Ralph Hall, his lover for over fifty years until Monty’s death in 1983. Their story is told in A Class Apart [by James Gardiner].

(Linguistically interesting material boldfaced.)

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On the fortune cookie watch

May 10, 2011

Dinner Sunday night at Mandarin Gourmet, up the street. We hadn’t calculated on the great crush of Mothers Day diners, but we were seated with dispatch anyway. And then came the fortune cookies. Two pretty traditional ones, a silly one, and a startlingly Silicon Valley one.

Traditional:

The near future holds a gift of contentment [Prophecy Style]

You deserve to have a good time after a hard day’s work [Advice Style]

Silly:

Reading your fortune out loud will bring you good luck

And the winner, for someone who’s a tech professional:

You would do well in the field of computer technology

(We did wonder about the would.)

Four deaths

May 10, 2011

In the news recently, four death notices for people who have in one way or another touched my life. In the order of their passing, sociologist Harold Garfinkel (April 21), actor Sada Thompson (May 4), playwright Arthur Laurents (May 5), and writer Kate Swift (May 7).

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Lari Pittman

May 10, 2011

In the May 2011 issue of Out magazine, a review by Jessanne Collins of the monograph Pittman (Rizzoli), presenting “three decades of the gay Los Angeleno’s pieces in chronological order”:

Pittman’s Day-Glo panoramas are immersive, absorbing the viewer in a way that the artist admits is almost aggressive. “I think the work takes on a form of drag, and there is drag that passes and drag that doesn’t pass,” he says in an interview included in the volume. “Drag that doesn’t pass is a provocation.”

Loaded with borrowed signage and jarring juxtapositions, Pittman’s motifs pair the everyday – furniture, faces, animals – with the pointedly symbolic – weapons, genitalia, credit card logos … The resulting visual cacaphony embodies an aesthetic that Pittman borrows from his Catholic Latin American heritage and calls “bittersweet” – when things are “oppositional but simultaneous.”

Many of his works incorporate fragments of text or specific expressions (“69” appears in a number of them).

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Another PST/PSP = BSE

May 9, 2011

Found in a piece of umliterature yesterday, a reference to the writer’s (sexual) appetite being whet by some event (with PSP whet). The writing was fairly inept, so I didn’t collect it for my files, but I went on to find some other examples of PSP and PST whet (instead of whetted) on the net. On the order of thousands, so I wasn’t willing to dismiss them as inadvertent errors, especially when I’ve posted about parallel examples of non-standard PST/PSP = BSE.

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Remembering Ann

May 9, 2011

Today is May 9, Ann Daingerfield Zwicky’s birthday (she died in January 1985, oh so long ago). In her memory, I’ve added to my website a collaborative piece she and I wrote long ago on “Telegraphic registers in written English” (from a NWAV conference in Montréal), here. Recipes, classified ads, menus, men’s-room sexual graffiti, telegrams, newspaper headlines, and more. Ann got me into the topic, as I constructed materials for my introductory linguistics classes and began to absorb influences from my (eventual) Stanford colleague Charles Ferguson.

Style and register ended up becoming one of my things.

[Ann just detested Mother’s Day, which was yesterday. She hated the whole idea of the holiday, and especially the fact that it regularly intruded on her birthday. On the other hand, both days would always come close to Derby Day (Ann was born on Derby Day) — the running of the Kentucky Derby (Saturday this year), a big event in our household because Ann’s family were horse people, and her father was a thoroughbred racing steward (a judge), eventually the senior steward for the state of Kentucky, which meant that he oversaw the Derby in Louisville (and also Keeneland in Lexington).

Ann herself rode horses from an early age (we have a childhood photo of her on Man O’ War, who went to stud on her great-aunt Elizabeth’s farm), and broke bones all her life on horseback — she turned out to have rather brittle bones — right up to a week or so before that conference in Montréal, which she went to, undaunted, with her left arm in a cast.]