Author Archive

Foxes, camels, and Jeff the Tongue

April 5, 2025

From Jeffrey Golderg the Linguist (not Jeffrey Goldberg the Journalist — Jeff the Tongue, not Jeff the Pen) on April 3, passing on a Facebook posting with an old Soviet joke, along with monitory commentary from On Tyranny author Timothy Snyder the Historian:

(News note: Snyder, his historian wife Marci Shore, and his philosophy colleague Jason Stanley are all leaving Yale to move to the University of Toronto in the fall)

I’ll comment here briefly on two things: old Soviet jokes, some of them now startlingly applicable to life in the Soviet States of America under President Putinitsa and her sidekick Evilon; and the naming convention in Jeffrey Goldberg the Journalist and Jeff the Tongue.

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Mollified about Monaghan

April 5, 2025

Sweet Gee (an alter ego of Gadi Niram’s) wrote on Facebook yesterday about a character in the delightful Hetty Wainthropp Investigates tv show, who I took to be the character played by the adorable Dominic Monaghan, but turned out to be Joe Peluso’s. I wrote:

Ah, I am mollified. I’d completely forgotten JP. Meanwhile, I know that mollify has to do, etymologically, with softening, but I couldn’t help thinking of it as Molly-fy ‘make into a Molly’, presumably by getting into drag.

Two clusters of things here: the Wainthropp show and DM; and the verb mollify and the noun molly / Molly.

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Heart rates

April 4, 2025

Yes, I know I’m in the middle of several posting series, but I’ve fallen behind, so here’s a little thing about my medical state that I’ve found puzzling. But recently pleasing.

It’s about my pulse rate — my resting heart rate, or RHR for short. Which was close to 60 beats per minute for most of my life, gradually extending, as I aged, to reliably between 60 and 70 bpm, with a very occasional excursion to the low 80s. Standard reference sources tell me that normal RHR lies between 60 and 100 bpm and rises within these limits as you age (though the tables I’ve seen only take people up to the age of 70; I am 84, pushing 85).

For several years now I’ve been taking my vital signs (usually just RHR and blood pressure) right after washing up on arising in the morning. My first morning RHR has been as above, not really interesting. Until 3/13, when my RHR was 95, then 97 an hour later (while my blood pressure was stunningly good). My RHR then continued to hover close to 100 during 3/14 to 3/17, all day long, while my blood pressure continued to be in the good to splendid range. I felt nothing, no chest pain, no faintness or tiredness or any other symptom; in fact, I felt fine, and energetic.

I consulted with my daughter, and together we decided not to call any medical people (and I was responsible for allaying my caregiver J’s worries when he took my RHR). It went down to 83 on 3/18, then on 3/19 back up to 91 , then down to 63 20 minutes later. It was 61 on 3/20; then on 3/21, 93, but 20 minutes later it was 61. This new zooming up and down (admittedly, within the normal range, but the highs were a new phenomenon) continued through the beginning of April, with high days on 4/1 through 4/3, yesterday, when I did a long and tiring visit to Stanford, enlivened by substantial conversations with Stanford folk. Last night I had an especially satisfying sleep, with delightful dreams. My first morning vitals, at 5:35 am, were, whoo-ee:

blood pressure 115/66, resting heart rate 58

And I felt wonderful. Be happy for me.

No idea what tomorrow will be like.

 

The world is too much with me

April 3, 2025

Und die einen sind im Dunkeln, und die andern sind im Licht, doch man sieht nur die im Lichte, die im Dunkel sieht man nicht
— Bertholt Brecht, Die Dreigroschenoper

Over the past six days I suspended a complex series of postings on LGBTQ people integrating sexual lives, relationships, and identities with lives of accomplishment, slowly focusing on the examples closest to me: gay men in linguistics. I intended to begin with one specific example that came my way a while back, in this announcement (with special emphasis on a passage I’ve boldfaced; read it in conjunction with the Brecht quote above):

The George A. Smathers Library [of the University of Florida, Gainesville] cordially invites you to the Michael Gannon Lecture on Tuesday, April 1st, from 4:00 – 5:00 p.m., featuring linguistic anthropologist George Aaron Broadwell [AZ: called Aaron], Ph.D., the Elling Eide Professor of Anthropology at University of Florida. A booksigning will be held immediately following the event.

“Reading Florida’s First Native Authors: Towards an Understanding of Timucua Literature”

This talk introduces the public to some of the most interesting passages of Timucua literature and discusses the techniques that our team has used to read and interpret Timucua texts.

Having assembled a host of texts written in Timucua, the native language of the inhabitants of northern Florida from around the twelfth century into the eighteenth century, Broadwell has spent years working to translate what the writers were recording. Through his own efforts, work with colleagues, and assistance from students Broadwell has reconstructed substantial parts of Timucua vocabulary, in some cases interpreting previously untranslated texts, and also offering new revelations about those with Spanish corollaries.

His work has revolutionized understanding of the conquest and colonial eras in Florida, giving voice to the people who lived under Spanish rule and revealing what their letters and writings say about dramatic changes taking place in their lives and world. The topic is especially appropriate for a lecture in honor of [historian, educator, priest, and war correspondent] Michael Gannon [(1927-2017)], who included in his own discussions of Florida history an example of the Timucua-language version of the Lord’s Prayer.

Alas, the world has been too much with me, so I now bring you the news of this excellent event after it has taken place; I’ve been posting little things to show that I’m still alive, while I try to cope with the threatening turmoil instigated by President Putinitsa and her sidekick Evilon (two monstrous buckets of pathologies, of different sorts); my current mantra is Stand Up and Stand Out, and I’ve been doing my best to be pointedly offensive. Meanwhile, I have a complex personal and medical life, with much I’d like to report on (I visited my department at Stanford this morning, first time in years, and showed some of the delightful campus to my caregiver J — who then showed me that I will need to post about Antigua Guatemala, all new to me).

In any case, I have tons of stuff to say and feel overwhelmed. But I intend to move on to Aaron Broadwell, and try to distill many pages of a remarkable c.v. into something digestible, before moving on to the story of his relationship with the author Peter Marino (Aaron and Peter have been together for 30 years and were in the earliest group of gay people who got married in Massachusetts, in 2004, wow. Then to get back to the larger topic, with other examples of gay male linguists of substantial accomplishment and some words on why people should care about us, especially during a time when concerns about DEI mask a concerted attack on (among many other things) LGBTQ people and our rights — one of a number of bullshit smokescreens spread by Putinitsa and Evilon in their program to establish domination over a cowering and compliant populace.

Poetic note. “The World Is Too Much With Us” is a sonnet by William Wordsworth, first published in 1807; in it, the poet maintains that industrial society has damaged the connection between people and nature and replaced it with getting and spending.

Falling on my head

April 2, 2025

Posted on Facebook by Bill Halstead today:

Come on, supervolcano! Giant Asteroids keep failing us…

about this American Geographical Society posting on 3/31:


(#1) USGS map

The new steam vent is part of a rhyolite lava flow, a type of thick, chunky slow-moving lava. Yellowstone National Park sits atop a supervolcano that provides the heat energy for its numerous geothermal attractions. The supervolcano is believed to be due for another major eruption in around 100,000 years, with the potential to produce devastating impacts across North America.

To understand Bill’s comment, you need to know about the news in this headline from The Guardian on 2/24/25:

Chance of giant asteroid hitting Earth in 2032 falls to 0.0017% 

Which is to say that the chance of this particular disaster is now negligible. But wait! The Yellowstone supervolcano might erupt. Cataclysmic disaster might yet be on the way.

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Vacations

April 1, 2025

[I wrote this while watching Cory Booker speak on the floor of the US Senate for a record of over 25 hours straight, passionately speaking against the wickedness of the president and his sidekick and in favor of (among other things) diversity, equity, and inclusion; calling repeatedly on my hero John Lewis; and cleansing the nastiness of the previous record-holder, Strom Thurmond, who was filibustering against the Voting Rights Act of 1957. I wept, I cheered, I was moved to hope, at least for a few moments.]

Two triggers for this posting:

— the Zippy strip for 9/30 (so, something close to hot news) in which Zippy and Zerbina reminisce about their fabulous vacation at the Diet of Worms in 1521 (yes, Martin Luther is involved)

— 2022 e-mail from my old friend and linguistics colleague Elizabeth Closs Traugott (who’s a year older than I am but in vastly better shape), about a trip for pleasure she was about to take to (the) Pinnacles, south of here, which reminded me of a similar trip my guy Jacques made years ago. Which then took me to a vacation J and I took together. (Yes, this topic has been simmering on my desktop for three years; I have a prodigious backlog.)

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Vito Corleone and Jimmy Hoffa walk into a formula pun joke

April 1, 2025

🐇 🐇 🐇 three rabbits to inaugurate the cruelest month; today is not only April Fools Day, but also noted linguist Leonard Bloomfield’s birthday (in 1897), to be celebrated by a look at his work on Menomini / Menominee, an Algonquian / Algonkian language of Wisconsin

Revived on Facebook recently, this 3/31/22 Pearls Before Swine comic strip:


(#1) A Stephan Pastis specialty, the formula pun — or setup / payoff pun — joke

Two things here: the joke form, and the popular-culture knowledge needed to appreciate this specific strip.

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Hybrid portmanteaus

March 31, 2025

🐅 🐅 🐅 three tigers for ultimate March, the day on which the tigers eat the lambs that the month proverbially goes out as; my posting for this morning begins with tigers, but only so I can slide into the real topic:

the hybrid portmanteau ‘a portmanteau (name) for a hybrid (creature)’ — as in the names liger (lion + tiger) ‘hybrid of a male lion with a tigress’ and tigon (tiger + lion) ‘hybrid of a male tiger with a lioness’, as opposed to unmixed names for hybrids, like mule ‘hybrid of a male donkey and female horse’ and hinny ‘hybrid of a male horse and a female donkey’. Hybrid portmanteaus are iconically satisfying: intimate name-melding (through the combination of word-parts) signifies intimate creature-melding (through mating).

From this beginning, I will rapidly descend to the hybrid portmanteau triceradoodle (the creature is a preposterous hybrid of a triceratops and a poodle) and eventually to the double hybrid portmanteau composite Gerberian Shepsky (an actual dog breed, a hybrid of a German shepherd and a Siberian husky)

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Candidiana

March 30, 2025

Penultimate March, and today’s song from Candide is Cunegonde’s aria “Glitter and be gay” (from Act 1, right before “You were dead, you know”, the title subject of my 3/27 posting on this blog), in which she confronts her, um, suitors with the defiant quatrain:

Enough! Enough!
I’ll take their diamond necklace
And show my noble stuff
By being gay and reckless!

(Oh, honey, I am so with you!)

Candide is a remarkable theater piece that provides almost as many quotations suitable for random occasions as the Alice books, but with a sensibility that is some sort of compound of Voltaire’s satirical novella and the New York City intellectual and artistic world of the 1950s. But it works.

Now: the work, my 3/27 posting, and two responses from old friends about the show.

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Misleading

March 29, 2025

My note on Facebook on 3/26 about one small point in the Signal Chat affair:

Listening fairly carefully to testimony yesterday in the Signal fiasco, I realized that some of those questioned were not only dodging questions and not recalling stuff but also framing answers so that they were (arguably) accurate, but only with the wording understood in a particular technical way. So that they said there were no war plans — because the plans were, technically, attack plans, not war plans. And that there was no classified intelligence — because the classified information was, technically, plans, not intelligence.

It reminded me of a ritual performed by a Muslim friend at a wonderful dinner at Ann and Bonnie’s in Princeton some 65 years ago (Eqbal and Ann are long dead, but Bonnie in Colorado and I in California squeak by), during which glasses of excellent wine were poured. Eqbal took a napkin, dipped a finger in his wine and flicked a drop of wine onto the napkin, then raised his glass and led a toast to Ann. A while later, we asked him what the flicking was about.

“Oh”, he explained, “the Qur’an teaches us: Thou shalt not drink one drop of wine. I was merely obeying the injunction”.

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