Author Archive

Manual monuments

March 12, 2024

Today’s Zippy strip offers us a talkative piece of public sculpture in the shape of a hand — actually, a closed fist, upraised — that riffs together with Zippy on the manual, hand-based, lexicon of English:


The hand exclaims, Zippy questions, but their exchanges are absurd

The big topic here is the manual lexicon: lexical items that involve the noun or verb hand. The manual lexicon is enormous. embracing some fixed expressions referring to the bodypart, but mostly composed of figurative expressions etymologically traceable to the bodypart but now semantically distant from it.

The other topic is also sizable, but it’s artistic rather than linguistic: statues of hands, especially fists, especially in works of public art. I’ll start with that.

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Howdy Out

March 11, 2024

The second installment of my adventures with Howdy Boy, aka Troy Anderson (Stanford ’89/’90). In the first installment (my 3/8 posting “Howdy”), with the folksy-friendly salutation “Howdy”, he introduced himself as a student in my gigantic 1989 syntax course — and thanked me for not flunking him. Now, I have a passionate interest (both personal and scholarly) in people’s lives — their daily lives and their life histories — so when I learned that Troy was not only a Stanford football player (a huge guy who looks like the offensive tackle he was at Stanford) but also a high-ranking Go player, now a business executive, who got a BA in anthropology, and as a member of the Coquille tribe in Oregon compiled a dictionary of its lost language, Miluk, for his MA thesis in linguistics, well, I was totally intrigued. We embarked on learning about each other.

Meanwhile, there was the almost flunking out. I wrote him:

It [has] occurred to me that if there was any chance of your flunking out, it would have been because you were juggling too many balls at once, always a danger for very smart manic multi-taskers, as you obviously were at the time (and probably still are).

(I’ll return to the barely not flunking out below). And I added:

I haven’t been able to piece together your history in recent years, so if you could fill me in some, I’d like to hear about it. I might try to talk you into letting me write about you on my blog. (You can sample my blog at www.arnoldzwicky.org.)

Troy turned out to be extraordinarily open in his response — giving me an inventory of major life events, some quite personal in nature, offering to supply further details, and inviting me to post whatever I wanted. An attitude that resonates with the way he presents himself; as I wrote to him a little while later:

you’re a sunny person; your most natural facial expression is a smile of pleasure... I take that disposition to be a sign of a way of being, a moral quality — of openness, of empathy, of enthusiastic commitment. In any case, whether you know it or not, you project a kind of niceness (despite your imposing body) that has surely served you well in life

Clearly, I appreciated his brand of charm, despite his being so startlingly unlike me (except for sharing linguistics, that sunny presentation of self, and serious moral commitments).

But then, more or less in the middle of the inventory, came a swerve and a surprise.

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E-mail queries

March 11, 2024

I’m inundated by queries about my (many) published articles and (gigantically many) postings, queries that are variously self-serving, malicious, and, yes, seeking understanding. But I can’t possibly reply to everyone who has questions about things I’ve written; I pretty much confine myself to short responses to people I know well and replies to people writing theses (undergraduate honors theses, MA theses, and PhD theses), and even these must be brief, given the demands of my life.

And so a story, in which I explain some things that might be useful or illuminating to other readers. It begins with e-mail I got some time back from a purported graduate student — call them GS — in a European university — call it EU — who said they were writing a thesis on English syntax in which the notion of head within NPs and VPs plays a significant role. Our exchange as it unfolded …

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JKZ on a short snorter

March 9, 2024

AMaZing Mail Department, from yesterday: this object:


(#1) A short snorter whose signers include John K. Zwicky (across the very right edge of George Washington’s face); JKZ, of Coalinga CA, is a familiar — as well as familial — character on this blog

#1 came in surprise e-mail yesterday from James A. Downey, who’s been researching the names on the short snorter and so was led to this blog. So, two things: JKZ and short snorters.

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Howdy

March 8, 2024

Under the header “Howdy” (a folksy salutation I rarely encounter), this e-mail from 3/4 (somewhat edited):

I was in your syntax class at Stanford in the late 80s …

Recently had a colleague [who] said he was basing [a] clitics and circumclitics paper on your theories! So, thought I’d say hello and thank you for not flunking me.

Now, I get an unbelievable amount of ill-intentioned mail from trollers, spammers, and seekers of commercial deals; now that these annoying entities have access to impressive AI programs, their junk e-mail regularly makes reference to details of my published work and is generally pretty sophisticated in its attempt to gain my confidence. That “Howdy” really was a red flag; also, although Howdy Boy wouldn’t have been the first former student to thank me for not flunking him, it’s a rare event, and might just have been a clever stroke to catch my attention.

On the other hand, his colleague’s paper was said to be about the language Miluk (a language I don’t recall having heard of before; it’s an extinct Coosan language of Oregon), and his e-name was miluk — two things lending some verisimilitude to him. And then his signature was

Troy Anderson, ‘89/‘90

which would put him at Stanford when I taught my really big Intermediate Syntax course, Linguistics 121, in winter quarter 1989 (more on this course in an appendix to this posting; but it’s relevant here that enrollment in the course was unexpectedly gigantic, requiring the last-minute hiring of a raft of additional grading assistants, who I then had to co-ordinate and manage, and making my memory of individual students quite hazy). But then “Troy Anderson” is the sort of everyday name that trollers and spammers make up.

Alas, my net experience includes astonishingly inventive malicious trollers, whose only purpose is to demonstrate their cleverness by deceiving otherwise intelligent people and wasting their time; and, a few months back, being disastrously defrauded by people who did a remarkable job of creating detailed counterfeits of a series of commercial websites. So I’m really really cautious. (Yes, this is a truly grotesque way to have to live.)

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A dirge murmured around the grave

March 7, 2024

Awoke this morning for a 12:50 whizz, with the line “‘Tis a dirge that is murmured around the lowly grave” (from “Hard Times, Come Around No More”) in my ear, causing me to think that if there were a memorial service or wake for me after my death, this is one of the pieces of music I would want played at it; death is a constant presence for me, so I muse on things like this.

But then I realized that there would be no memorial service for an old person whose surviving friends are spread all over the world; if they aren’t able to spend some moments with me while I’m alive, why would they gather to mourn my death? The song line for this is “Give me the roses while I live”, from Odem (Second), Sacred Harp 340 (more on this below). Come by and I will entertain you with random thoughts and stories from my life — and play for you my music of joy, or all the versions of “Hard Times” I have (listed below), or my favorite Mozart Operas (Figaro and Zauberflöte, but it’s a hard choice), or Sacred Harp songs, or the rock music I used to dance to (heavy on the Rolling Stones), or Haydn’s Missa in Tempore Belli, or Linda Ronstadt, or Louis Moreau Gottschalk, or Candide (the original one), or Company, or Heitor Villa-Lobos, or I can go on annoyingly for a really long time in this vein.

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Bloody Sunday

March 7, 2024

🩸🩸🩸 … on this day in 1965: NEVER FORGET

From my 4/15/22 posting “LET US NOW PRAISE FAMOUS BLACK WOMEN”, about the confirmation of Ketanji Brown Jackson as an Associate Justice of the US Supreme Court, but also about James Agee’s book Let Us Now Praise Famous Men (celebrating the Appalachian poor) and about the late US Representative John Lewis, who on 3/7/65 led the first of three Civil Rights marches across the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma AL — an event now known as Bloody Sunday, because of the savage attack on the marchers by state troopers and police:

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Nobody expects a baby

March 6, 2024

A carefully composed, subtle, and surprising ambiguity-driven cartoon by Mick Stevens in the New Yorker 1/1&8/2024 issue (on-line on 12/2/23):


Were we expecting a baby?, conveying not ‘Were we pregnant?” but the surprising ‘Were we expecting a baby (to appear at the door, to visit us, to be delivered to us, etc.)?’ — compare Were we expecting a special-delivery letter? Were we expecting the Spanish Inquisition? (meanwhile, there’s a Page about MS cartoons on this blog)

From NOAD:

verb expect: … [c] believe that (someone or something) will arrive soon: Celia was expecting a visit.

verb phrase idiom be expecting (also be expecting a baby): informal be pregnant: his wife was expecting again.

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The final 5 Hot Days of Christmas

March 5, 2024

(Very heavy on gay content, with a number of raunchy allusions, so not to everyone’s taste.)

I’m well aware that Christmas was over two months ago, but this is a complex posting and  my life’s been full of, um, challenges. In any case, I’m finally finishing up Dean Allemang’s series of AI-generated Christmas-card designs for the 12 days as in the carol, all of them sent as titillating presents for me. The early ones had one hot hunk, an object of gay sexual desire (Dino and I share a sexual orientation, and in fact a sexual history), as a central figure, with multiples of the gift of the day (birds or those golden rings) as accompaniments; but from there on it’s multiple men: for days 6 and 7, in my 1/11 posting “Hot Days of Christmas: geese and swans”, the dudes are figurative birds; for days 8 (maids a-milking) and 9 (ladies dancing), Dino just switched sexes (milkmen, laddies dancing); the last three days have male gifts in the carol (10 lords a-leaping, 11 pipers piping, 12 drummers drumming), but Dino has found fresh, jokey, interpretations for all three.

(Note: once things shifted to multiple hunks, Dino’s prompts for suitable images tended to turn up clone-like variants of the same basic guy, just differently posed and dressed. So we’ll be seeing a few of these studs again and again; some people find this effect creepy, some find it really hot, I toggle back and forth between the two reactions.)

Now: for background, a look back at the turning point in this carnival of images, the geese a-laying (day 6) and swans a-swimming (day 7). With some comments from Dino about the craft of prompting for suitable images (which can then be further massaged with image-processing software); there’s a lot of art in all of this.

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Exceptional vocabulary comprehension for her age

March 5, 2024

On the other hand, exceptional vocabulary comprehension is not yet within the grasp of her exceptional vocabulary comprehension; Ruthie, in this One Big Happy strip that came up in my comics feed recently, does indeed know a lot of words, just not some of the 4- and 5-syllable killer items:

But you can bet that if we had the next few panels, we would see Ruthie quizzing her mother on those 2-dollar words — though by now they’re probably 10-dollar words — and incorporating them into her exceptional vocabulary, so that she can show them off.

From GDoS on two-dollar words:

(US) any language considered ‘difficult’ or ‘intellectual’, most likely by a speaker who claims to despise such locutions [with cites from 1929 on]