You know what I hate? Fake neologisms. You know, when someone uses a word they haven’t used before, and they think they have made it up, so to preempt any comments, they say something like “yes, I know that isn’t a word”? Only it really is a word and they are too ignorant to know that and/or to arrogant to look it up in the dictionary? That thing? I hate that.
Archive for the 'Neologisms' Category
At work today, I had to create a file under the heading "Visioning." I am now going to look for a pencil I can use to stab out my own eyes.
Do you think it’s significant that my students insist on calling Humbert Humbert "Humpert"?
I teach something by Nabokov every term, to keep my testy little soul satisfied, and that week is universally my favorite week of the term. Next week is Nabokov Week and I am uncharacteristically dreading it already. I am doing Lolita this term, and the guileless rubes are already being total shits about it, apparently because "not only is it creepy, but it’s hard to read, whine, whine, whine."
I’m sure they have no interest in the fact that is is one of the most beautifully written novels, like, ever, dude; that it has been called "the only convincing love story of our century" and one of the four greatest novels of all time; or that it is not, in fact, an endorsement of pedophilia. Oh, no. Why bother delving into the matter, after all? The structure seems pretty straightforward, just like all of Nabokov’s work. Vladimir Nabokov: simple and sincere; no hint of irony, manipulation, or complexity. As always, the students’ subtle insights do not fail to shake me.
I am planning on telling them that if they want to become successful scholars (unlikely, but still), they are going to have to learn to be better, more thoughtful, more thorough close readers, and that frankly, this pruritanical [puritanical + prurient] attitude will not stand.
(Was this entire post an excuse to test out my most recent neologism? Yeah, probably.)
What is the deal with shrugs, anyway? It has the potential for full-fledged sweaterdom, but it’s as if someone ran out of yarn halfway through. “Oops, it’s a shrug,” they probably said. “I’m sure some fool will buy it.” And the next thing you know, all the girls at the mall are wearing little sweaters that keep their boobs warm while unflatteringly presenting their bellies to the world all “Hey, look at my belly! Also, doesn’t this shrug make me look adorably foreshortened?”
People, it’s not as bad, perhaps, as leggings or the jeans-under-a-skirt phenomenon, but it has got to stop. There’s nothing I hate worse than browsing the clearance rack at Banana Republic and seeing what looks to be a promising sleeve (cable knit, chocolate brown), pulling it out to examine the sweater, and then being cruelly disappointed when I discover that, OOPS, IT’S A SHRUG!
The only real fruit of this phenomenon has been that I have started using the “OOPS” construction when I need to say something obvious: OOPS, MY LUNGS ARE MADE OF CHOWDER, for example. This is especially fun when using an Austrian accent. (As in, OOPS, CALIFORNIA IS RUNNING OUT OF ELECTRICITY.)
Try it yourself and see. Had an unpleasant experience at the movies this weekend? I have just the exclamation for you: OOPS, M. NIGHT SHYAMALAN IS A SELF-AGGRANDIZING BOOB. Got a midnight craving for a burrito the size of your leg? OOPS, I JUST ATE FOUR THOUSAND CALORIES.
This might just be the sort of thing that only I (and select, elite others) find amusing, in which case, I apologize for wasting your time. OOPS, I WROTE ABOUT A PERSONAL JOKE ON THE INTERNET AND IT WASN’T VERY FUNNY.
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