Monthly Archive for August, 2006

because this? is a phenomenon? that i hate.

As I often say, my interest in grammar isn’t merely a fondness for "correcting" others. It’s about clarity and efficiency, about saying what you mean, about making every word count.  I like to think about the ways in which language works and sometimes the ways it changes.  That being said, I am not a pure descriptivist.  There is a difference between standard and non-standard constructions, and there are some things you can say (and those things differ with differing audiences) that will rob you of any credibility you may have. Writing students putting "your a great teacher" on a college course evaluation and, on the other hand, people like me running around talking about "bling" are both very, very wrong, but for completely different reasons.

The overwhelming prevalence of the (casual, technically incorrect) expression "hello, it’s me" does in no way render "hello, it is I" wrong, for example.  "Hello, it is I" has the distinct benefit of being grammatically correct. (Linking verbs, predicate nominatives, oh my!)  The reason I mention this particular case is that it seems to speak to some of the recent capricious (and inconsistent, contradictory) blather about "grammar" over here, which you may blame for my return to talking about this fantastically interesting subject. 

I’ve been thinking about grammar again–specifically, those little verbal tics that just chap my ass.  One I find particularly rampant in the world of blogging (or "journaling," as many of these writers spurn the word "blog" for reasons largely unknown) is what I will call "uptalking." 

Uptalking? Is the thing? Where you represent rising tone? With a question mark.  It’s a part of the ubiquitous fashion of writing "how you talk" that seems to infect a lot of online writing. ("Oh, me? I just write? Like? How I talk.")  Don’t get me wrong; I am guilty of some of the same things. Sentence fragments, mainly.  I’m awfully fond of them in casual writing, but don’t go thinking I’d pepper my dissertation with them in the same devil-may-care fashion.  As far as uptalking goes, I may well have tried it here a couple times, too.  If I hadn’t tried it myself, I wouldn’t bash it so readily.

Not only are these writers not asking a question (rather, they are merely using the question mark as a typographical representation of the bimboesque, Valley-girl-style employment of rising tone), they’re often doing nothing more than obscuring their meaning.  When I encounter a paragraph in which this fashion has all but taken over, my first reaction is to filter the question marks out–like I would had I gotten an email somebody had copied and pasted from a Word document, making the punctuation go all screwy.  Filtering them out merely renders the entire mess more confusing, though, and I have to go back and begin again.  Eventually I got used to reading Bimbo Language, but my acclimation hasn’t really lessened my dislike.

I think there’s also a sort of assumption that this aping of (sub-) human speech is, in and of itself, funny.  It isn’t.  Airheadedness alone, even ironic "airheadedness," does not constitute a joke. See also: Dude, Where’s My Car.

kindly remove the plank from your own eye

I don’t need to spell out how fucking weary this makes me, do I?

BLACKLISTED! readers’ choice, “america the beautiful” installment

Welcome to the next installment of BLACKLISTED! Readers’ Choice Edition. The current installment is called "America The Beautiful."  Many of these offenders come from (or respresent, to my mind) suburban and rural America–you know, The Heartland.  The Red States.  The Purple Mountains Majesty or the Fruited Plains.  This is the part of America we’re all supposed to love, so what the hell is the problem?  Read on and see!

(Don’t forget to stop by the contributing readers’ blogs, which I’ve linked.)

Wal-Mart. C.A. Marks just hates Wal-Mart, and let’s face it; who doesn’t?  Filled with loads of discounted plastic merchandise and cheap plastic people, Wal-Mart is well and truly the saddest place on earth. The most depressing part has to be the geriatric greeters who are too poor to retire, and thanks to Wal-Mart’s bad labor practices, they’ll be indentured for life.  Wal-Mart, you have been BLACKLISTED!

Chatty Gum Chewers. M can’t stand it when rude people chew gum while talking to her, especially if they make it so that she can even tell what color the offending wad is while it’s in their mouths.  No one wants to see what’s in your mouths, people. I myself am an avid gum-chewer, but I try to keep it discrete.  Discretion is key, people.  Key!  Chatty Gum Chewers, you know what’s coming. You have been BLACKLISTED!

Grass and Grass-Related Pollens.  Anyone with allergies who has lived in or near the county billing itself the "Grass Seed Capital of The World" won’t have to ask why Timothy wants to blacklist this crap! Grass and your Related Pollens, don’t force us to burn your fields and salt the earth.  You have been BLACKLISTED!

The Middle Sister from Full House.  Middle Sister Stephanie, irritatingly played by methamphetamine-addict Jodie Sweetin, gets on Katie’s nerves.  If you ask me, that whole show gets on my nerves, what with the saccharine sweetness and patronizing morality. Cut! It! Out! Middle Sister (and the rest of your crew), you have been BLACKLISTED!

Righteous Kynd-Vegan-Brothers/Sisters who Litter, Steal, and Smell Bad.  Man, oh man, these people are all over the place, aren’t they? Leaving empty microbrew bottles on the sidewalk, begging for spare change, and roaming around with their puppies.  "They always have puppies, never have dogs…," M points out.  Yeah, what’s up with that? Bros, you have been BLACKLISTED!

The California DMV. I’m sure my California readers know why, right? California DMV, you have been BLACKLISTED!

Drug Dealer Neighbors.
Peachy can’t stand her drug dealing neighbors, or the sketchy lurkers that are part and parcel of their little home business.  She’s right to ask, "could the remnants of the backwoods hollers just please go brew their own meth?"  Indeed.  I had my own set of Drug Dealer Neighbors once upon a time, and in my case, it was the incessant knocking on their door at all hours of the night that got to me.  Drug Dealer Neighbors, you have been BLACKLISTED!

Old, Subwoofer-Installing Mamas’ Boys. "The men in [M's] ‘hood between the ages of 25 and 40 who live with their moms, procreate, and hang out 24 hours a day installing subwoofers in their dying cars" sound pretty awesome to me; I don’t know what she’s complaining about.  Irresponsible, unmotivated, and dedicated to drum and bass music? Seck-SAAAAYY.  Oh, wait. No, it isn’t. Old, Subwoofer-Installing Mamas’ Boys, you have been BLACKLISTED!

The Card Readers at Safeway. Danimal hates "the way they beep at you if you take more than 1.4 seconds to slide your card after selecting ‘debit’ because you’re busy telling the clerk what capers might be."  Frankly, I think that sucks, but I also hate the way it’s impossible to enter your PIN correctly with that stupid, non-functioning plastic stylus. Card Readers at Safeway, you have been BLACKLISTED!

People Who Hit Pets and then Drive The Hell Off.  This happened to a friend of Timothy, and no doubt about it, this is a completely vile thing to do.  Pet Hit and Run Assholes, you have been BLACKLISTED!

Pet Owners Who Fail to Supervise.
An anonymous commenter throws in his thoughts in this situation: he has got no love for "pet owners who let their beloved ani-pals run around outdoors in the city and then sue when they’re hit by a car or attacked by another animal (sorry, Timothy)."  Unleashed dogs are a particular problem in my neighborhood, so I can identify with this call to action:  "Until pets learn how to look both ways, they belong indoors, on a leash or behind a fence, people."  Good enough for me. Pet Owners Who Fail to Supervise, you have been BLACKLISTED!

Skinny Jean Teens. Jacqui calls to our attention the "loud teens from the ‘burbs in expensive skinny jeans on their cellphones who ‘like, came out to watch a show? But, like, it’s actually tomorrow? And, like ugh, do wanna meet is at Urban Outfitters?’ Skinny Jean Teens, you’ve been BLACKLISTED! "

Slow Country Drivers. Clarabella just can’t take the "people who drive 15 miles below the speed limit down back country roads, which are the rural equivalent to the autobahn, with their dirty little tow-headed kids jumping around unbelted(!) and then drifting into the other lane anytime a broken line appears, therefore effectively squelching your attempt to pass the fuckers."  Learn to drive, people.  Just because you’re "country" doesn’t give you any excuse.  Slow Country Drivers, you have been BLACKLISTED!

Jackass Teens on Motorized Scooter-Things.  They buzz by Pea’s house and disturb her peace, and in Zembla they think they can drive down the bicycle and pedestrian paths with their inappropriate motorized vehicles.  Stuff it, teens!  Maybe they’ll get into horrible accidents before they’re old enough to get drivers’ licenses. It’s the least we can hope for.  Jackass Teens, you have been BLACKLISTED!

Dresses Over Jeans. Amen, Peachy!  I loathe this particular fashion trend, and we seem to be in good company.  Either girls can’t decide if they want to wear a dress or jeans (in which case, MAKE UP YOUR DAMNED MINDS!), or they are simply trying to conceal their hideously deformed knees normally bared by the dress.  Girls!  Learn to love your hideous knees! Dresses Over Jeans, you have been BLACKLISTED!

BLACKLISTED! readers’ choice, london installment

Hello, adorable readers, and welcome to the London installment of the Readers’ Blacklist.  Next time you are in London, remember the following:

London’s Metropolitan Police Service.  "Usually they’re too busy shooting innocent Brazilians on the tube, or stopping black people in cars at random to bother investigating crime," says intrepid London blogger King of the Hill.  Whenever they do get around to their investigative duties, though, King isn’t happy about their general halfassedness and slackitude.  They took a month to put up some measly sign asking for witnesses to an assault in his neighborhood.  Nice job, London’s Metropolitan Police Service!  Not. Their stupid signs "merely [reinforce] the widely held belief that the Metropolitan Police, despite swallowing vast oceans of public cash, could not investigate the contents of their own fridges properly without having to watch episodes of CSI for help."  And that’s not all that’s bothering us:  There’s their "abysmally low crime solving rate, their blatant institutionalised racism, their history of corruption and cover up, their pathetic leadership and their general uselessness on a day to day basis." London’s Metropolitan Police Service, we are sick of your crap and we’re not having any more of it. You don’t have to be straight outta Compton to know when it’s time to fuck tha police. London’s Metropolitan Police Service, you have been BLACKLISTED!

General Lack of Other London-Related Submissions.  Dude, I totally thought I had more than this.  I guess this installment will be a short one.  Lack of Other London Submissions, you have been BLACKLISTED!

Stay tuned for the nest installment of the Reader’s Blacklist, featuring our sworn enemies from rural and suburban America.  That should be a nice, long one.

BLACKLISTED! readers’ choice, new york city installment

Welcome to the first ever installment of the Readers’ BLACKLIST!  Readers hate it, they tell me about it, and it is promptly BLACKLISTED! Remember, should you encounter these people, places, or things, you should shun them.  That is the point of a BLACKLIST! Remember the ALL CAPS; remember the exclamation point! They will never work in this town again.

"This town," for our first installment, refers to the Giant, Sparkly City of New York!  My New York friends and readers are sweltering in hot, humid city summer right now, so let’s show them some love and help them stay cool–cool in terms of ire if not temperature.  We’ll do our best to eviscerate all that ails them.  Without further ado, the Reader’s BLACKLIST! New York City Edition!

That Guy in the Subway.  Guy in the Subway was wearing a rude and crude tee-shirt with the words "You’ll Do" on the front. "Yeah?" says Oedipa, "Well YOU WON’T."  Amen.  Subway Guy, get out of here with your obnoxious, presumptuous, tacky-ass shirt. You probably haven’t gotten laid in months, and you certainly won’t be getting any now: you have been BLACKLISTED!

More People on the Subway. People on the Subway all seem like a useless lot.  Some of them "when they are upset with something stupid like a subway stopping in a tunnel for, oh, two seconds or a cashier taking too long, look around and roll their eyes and sigh loudly and just wait for you to look them smack in the eye so they can start telling everyone in the near vicinity how they (and therefore all of us of course!) must feel. Oh the camaraderie!"  Friend and reader cao-m has seen your ways and she is having none of it!  You have been BLACKLISTED!

But then there are the Other People on the Subway–the ones "who act confused right at the moment they need to swipe their subway cards to get on the freaking platform as the 1 train rolls up thereby making those of us who are faster yet stuck behind them, miss it."  People, Oedipa will simply not accept it when your slowness and incompetence make her late, and the rest of us won’t stand for it, either. Learn to swipe! Other Subway People, you have been BLACKLISTED!

And speaking of people on the Subway, some of y’all stink.  Stinky Subway People, you need to work on your personal hygiene. Try a little soap, for starters, and then some deodorant.  That’s my advice, anyway. It should come as no surprise that you have been BLACKLISTED!

Then of course there are the Fancypants Car-Having People and their Car Alarms. All of you, "every single one," says Oedipa. Timothy, not in NYC, but still affected by the insidious Fancypants Car-Having People and their Car Alarms, wants you to know that if your car alarm is "so sensitive as to go off in a heavy rain. At 2am. On Tuesday," that you are especially bad.  Without a doubt, you have been BLACKLISTED!

Pigeons. You sit, you flap about, you coo, you poop.  You are everywhere.  Take your filthiness and get out of town, pigeons,  You and your whole pigeon family have been BLACKLISTED!

That Wannabe Rockstar Guy.  He’s got his "super-skinny jeans and pretentiously pointy boots and greasy, greasy hair all carefully mussed, cigarette hanging out of his mouth clearly thinking to himself, "i am a rockstar. i will stand here so the people may glory in my coolness. but i will ignore them because that is how cool i am."  First of all, those jeans do not make you look like Joey Ramone.  Second of all, get a job.  Kilowatthour is duty bound to punch you in the throat, and so are we all.  You have been BLACKLISTED!

The Evil Fashion Editor Lady.  No, not Anna Wintour and not Meryl Streep.  The one at the helm of Oedipa’s fashion mag.  We can only imagine why, lady, but we’re guessing you’re not the nicest boss. You have been BLACKLISTED!

Dieting A-holes in the Grocery Store.  They don’t know if they want low-fat or low-carb, and they’re always in the way, aren’t they? Well, I know, and you know, and Kilowatthour knows: Dieting A-Holes, you have been majorly BLACKLISTED!   

Incompetent Employment Service(s).  Oedipa’s Incompetent Employment Service couldn’t manage to pay her on time, and we certainly don’t stand for that kind of slackitude.  For that matter, my Incompetent Employment Service has only found me a half-day’s work so far this summer.  Both of you have been BLACKLISTED!

Subway "Maintenance." Get out of town with your "maintenance."  BLACKLISTED!

Humidity. Humidity is well and trewely a pain in the ass.  I am well qualified to testify to this, I can tell you.  Growing up in the South and having tons of wavy hair that quickly becomes a kinky, frizzed-out mess has made me Humidity’s sworn enemy.  Humidity, leave us and our hair alone, and start letting our goddamned sweat evaporate for once.  You and your good friend Heat have been BLACKLISTED!   

People Who Yawn Really Loudly. "Hoh-hhhaaooool-hohhhhl," you’re always saying. Shut up already! I don’t like it any more than cao-m does. And don’t even think about becoming a loud chewer, loud snorer, or public drooler.  Loud Yawning is just a gateway behavior, you know.  People Who Yawn Really loudly, you have been BLACKLISTED!

Stay tuned for the London installment coming soon to this space!