Archive for the ‘Language and sports’ Category

Morning Italian jobs

May 20, 2025

(This will, somewhat surprisingly, eventually veer into men’s bodies and some man-on-man sex, recounted in street language, so it’s not for kids or the sexually modest; I’m sorry, but not even the best of Verdi opera and Italian tennis can quite counterbalance naked guys going at it with one another)

Today’s morning names were Rigoletto and Sinner, and for a change I knew exactly why they were in my head: Rigoletto is the name of an opera by Verdi (from which the magnificent quartet Bella figli dell’amore was playing on my music feed during my 2 am whizz break); and Sinner is the surname of someone who turns out to be an astoundingly famous Italian tennis player but was known to me only from a Sergio Scalise Facebook posting yesterday in which this Sinner was identified as a great champion who does commercials for De Cecco, Lavazza, and La Roche — I am, famously, deeply ignorant of sports; and also, despite Sergio’s occasional attempts at educating me, neglectfully ignorant of matters social, cultural, and political in today’s Italy (I’m not merely not au courant, but actually inert). This is Jannik Sinner; I had never laid eyes on him until this morning (I’ve been entertained by a recent Lavazza commercial, but it’s one for the American audience and doesn’t have Jannik Sinner in it). I go on at such length about JS because my readers from or connected to Italy will find it impossible to believe that I had no idea who Sinner — that athletic and cultural phenom — is.

Now, the coming program: about Rigoletto, briefly; about Jannik Sinner, at greater length, with a note about Lavazza coffee commercials; a side note about Google searches; and then a raunchy digression on the Italian jobs of the title.

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“a home run is a high fly that goes out of the park”

May 13, 2025

The first thing you need to know about this sentence from Baseball English —

a home run is a high fly that goes out of the park

is that I said it. If you know me at all well, you know that I am deeply, fabulously ignorant of sports — because I am deeply, fabulously uninterested in sports. And yet I uttered this Baseball English sentence, and I understood that it was, in fact, a pretty good definition of the technical term of baseball home run, and I was stunned. This stuff has seeped into my very being.

But why, you ask was I, of all people, defining home run. In fact, I was defining it for someone who turns out to be a genuine baseball fan, someone who knows tons of stuff about the game. But, alas, all in Baseball Spanish, which, despite the fact that the game is called beisbol (a transparent borrowing from English) in it, has an almost entirely home-made vocabulary, so that Baseball English might as well be Quechua or Mixtec.

Ok, you persist in asking, why was I trying to talk about baseball at all, never mind the English vs. Spanish thing.

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Afflicted with aphids

April 20, 2025

[4/25 disclaimer. In the constant upheavals of my life and the world around me, I’m now just picking random stuff to post about, from the 60 or 70 items in my ever-expanding queue — whatever catches my fancy at the moment. Don’t try to make sense of it as a whole.]

Regularly playing on MSNBC, the tv commercial “No Time to Wait”, featuring an earnest and friendly Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (now 78 years old) telling us

I have AFib (/éfɪb/ atrial fibrillation, the irregular heart rhythm)

which I heard as

I have aphids /éfɪdz/

(You can watch the commercial here.)


A screen shot from the commercial; Kareem is holding a basketball just in case you’ve forgotten who he is

It’s immensely pleasing to me that he’s still alive and is doing good things.

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A smashing time

September 9, 2024

A smashing time: the Economist‘s punning teaser head on its article about demolition derbies in its 8/24/24 issue:


(#1) [Economist caption:] Art for art’s sake (photo: Getty Images)

Frankfort, New York: Where crashing cars is the point

After the formalities are seen to — the national anthem sung, the firemen assembled—the fun starts. The sound brings the first thrill: a dozen engines thundering, each without a silencer, and the crackle-pop of backfire. Then comes the crash and crumple of metal on metal. Tyres go flat, bumpers fall off. Cars catch fire, others get pushed up against the wall. They head-butt like billy goats. They hiss, wheeze, smoke, stall and go kaput. Soon only two are still moving, at which point the announcer might growl: “Finish him!”

Tom Wolfe, a writer*, called demolition derbies “culturally the most important sport ever originated in the United States” — closer to the gladiatorial games of Rome than even boxing. Annihilation is the point. The last car running wins. Sports reporters ignored them, wrote Wolfe, because they thought them puerile and low-class: too many kids with “sideburns, tight Levi’s and winkle-picker boots”.

[* AZ: satirical chronicler of both the counterculture of the 1960s and the elite culture of New York City]

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The NASCAR snail races

August 20, 2024

That is, the NASCARGOT races, as a Bizarro of 12/26/10 has it, reveling in the portmanteau of NASCAR and escargot (French ‘snail’) and showing us Dan Piraro’s goofy conception of snails in a NASCAR race:


(#1) The cartoon appeared as the middle panel of a Bizarro Sunday Punnies strip with three bits of word play in it, posted about (without further analysis) in my 12/26/10 posting “Punnies #11” (if you’re puzzled by the odd symbols in the cartoon — Dan Piraro says there are 5 in this strip — see this Page)

Hat tip to Susan Fischer for dredging up this old cartoon on Facebook yesterday. Causing me to reflect on the fact that not all of my readers will be familiar with the American popcultural phenomenon that is NASCAR; there are people who wouldn’t be surprised to see that contestants in a race carry numbers, but would be baffled by all those ads on the snails’ shells. Indeed, DP has managed to transport the physical trappings of NASCAR vehicles to le monde des escargots. Motor sport meets malacology.

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Watt, Ware, Wynn, and Y.A.

August 1, 2024

🐇 🐇 🐇 rabbit rabbit rabbit to inaugurate August (inaugurust?) — and 🇨🇭 🇨🇭 🇨🇭 for Swiss National Day (yes, I am wearing my Swiss-flag gym shorts): happy 733rd birthday, Helvetia! — Uri! Schwyz! Unterwalden! — plus the Zwicky family canton: Glarus! — imagine the bunnies of August bounding over the Alpine meadows of the three Urkantone from 1291

But now for something completely different. A cascade of puns on names in the joke form I’ll call WoF?, abbreviating Who’s on First?, after the exemplary Abbott and Costello comedy sketch. In a Pearls Before Swine strip of 7/31/22, revived on Facebook yesterday (another 7/31):


(#1) WoF? now transported from baseball to football — in the NFL, with the four wh-question words of the gridiron: Watt, Ware, Wynn, and Y.A. (while Pig takes the role of the calmly explanatory Abbott and Rat the role of the increasingly confused and enraged Costello)

I’ll take an amused look back on WoF? cartoons on this blog in a moment. But first some notes on the comedy sketch that’s the model for this strip — noting that the cartoons have to achieve their effects through static text and drawings, while the comedy sketch is performed in real time by human actors deploying a rich stock of vocal and gestural resources. So on the one hand, though you might think of the comic strip as just a frozen, stripped down version of the live sketch, you could also view the strip as a highly artful joining of text and image using minimal resources (inspired by the live sketch but not attempting to reproduce it), as the comic counterpart of a graphic novel.

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Sail on, silver bros

July 30, 2024

Yesterday’s (soft porn) Olympic photo from Queerly News on X: Noah Williams and Tom Daley, on the occasion of their together winning the silver in the Men’s Synchronized 10m Platform event at the 2024 Paris Olympics:


(#1) It’s a playful bro kiss by NW, at which TD (famous for his charming playfulness) feigns wide-eyed astonishment

TD is also famous as one of the world’s champion divers, a campaigner against bullying, a hot muscle twink, and a gay icon. Also for looking about 14 years old ever since he was 14 (he’s now 30). And as a good friend, to which I now turn — I’ll get back to the gay icon and the hot muscle twink in a moment, but first some Facebook discussion from yesterday about his friendship with NW. Discussion between two gay men, Michael Thomas and me:

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The phantom on the football field

July 16, 2024

The phantom is a player named Ocho Quatro, who materialized yesterday for an old friend reacting to my posting “The coming duodecfest”, on occurrences of the number 84. I stashed a note about their Facebook comment away, for following up this morning. When Google kindly led me, slantwise, to Chad Johnson. Yes, you have a right to be puzzled by that, just as I was until I read Johnson’s entry in Wikipedia.

So this will be (yet another) posting on the fragility and mutability of human memory, and on associative thinking as providing access to those memories.

But first, what led my friend to Chad Johnson: some facts about the man, from Wikipedia:

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In the can

May 30, 2024

Today’s Wayno / Piraro Bizarro takes us to the world of talking tennis balls, where one of them commits a bathroom pun on the noun can ‘cylindrical metal container’:


(#1) Cylindrical metal containers are highly salient to tennis balls, because such cans are how they’re sold (if you’re puzzled by the odd symbols in the cartoon — Dan Piraro says there are only 2 in this strip — see this Page)

Meanwhile, Wayno’s title for #1 — “Today’s Ballsy Cartoon” — offers a different pun, on (tennis) balls, a mildly raunchy one: ballsy ‘tough, courageous”, a derivative in –y (tricky < trick, mushy < mush, etc.) from crude slang balls ‘testicles’. And my title for this posting (“In the can”) offers another pun on cylindrical container can; from NOAD:

phrase in the can: informal on tape or film and ready to be broadcast or released: all went well, the film was in the can.

Now for some details.

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Meanwhile, in Reykjavik

May 20, 2024

Joel B. Levin has sent me e-mail from a stopover in Reykjavik, where he enjoyed a tour “to see and smell sulfurous hot water at the original Geysir” and was treated to a viewing of the wrestlers statue outside the Geysir Glíma Restaurant. So, knowing my interest in artworks and also in men’s bodies, JBL sent me his photos of the sculpture:


(#1) Side view of the Glíma wrestlers


(#2) Front view of the Glíma wrestlers

At least four things here: the Viking sport of Glíma; the statue’s association with the restaurant; the statue as artwork; and the problematics of intimate contact between men’s bodies in wrestling.

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