Number 79
When the remarkable Curtis Sliwa, founder of New York's Guardian Angels was on the radio telling one of many exciting stories about his life, he said he "pounded the hound back to Chi town." "Pounded the hound" means he rode the Greyhound bus. "Chi town" is of course Chicago. I wonder if Chicagoans dislike it as much as natives of San Francisco are said to dislike "Frisco." But I like "pounded the hound."
A documentary on the excellent seamanship of the Vikings said the Viking "could deduct the other directions" from his compass (once he ascertained one). The noun is deduction, but its verb is deduce. "Deduct" in the sense of subtract comes from the same root, but it does not mean the same thing.
A local sign says, "Designer Portrait Images." It's only the subtitle that clarifies what this business is about ~ photography. Here's a case where more words convey less meaning. A portrait is always an image, though not always a photograph. But what could "designer" mean here? He had commercial art training? On the other hand, the name acronyms out to DPI ~ dots per inch. Maybe he does screened prints.
Reminds me of a real estate developer who said his properties had "lifestyle ambience." There's a mouthful of nothing.
The other day I heard "lift" ("I hope you're being lift up by this music") on the radio, in the archaic sense that I've only run across in old literature (see PO 62, on Pilgrim's Progress).
You've probably heard about "repurposing"; maybe you've done it. I'm not sure when this word was invented ~ that is, when a word was repurposed with the addition of a non-traditional prefix. Thus another innocent noun was verbed. It means, of course, changing the use of something. I first came across it when I was hired to repurpose some company prose ~ reorganize printed material for publication on the Web.
I've heard "price point" instead of "price" (as in "the price point" of a can of paint) one too many times. Where did this come from? Is it a term in economics that means something different from a mere price, which has been erroneously appropriated by the extra-syllable lust? If so, it's doubly unfortunate in that it reminds one (this one) of the notorious "point in time" that the Nixon crowd made infamous ("that point in time" instead of "then" and "this point in time" instead of "now").
By the way, it was Homer Simpson who said, "Mmm, pointy!" when he ate something sharp, and I don't mean cheese, maybe an earring.
Referring to PO 78, a reader informed me that I should have written "Scaled Composites", not components, as I had originally. Thanx and a tip of the Parvum hat.
And by the way again, for those who don't recognize the allusion, the late cartoonist Jimmy Hatlo of "They'll Do It Every Time" thanked readers who sent in suggestions with a little drawing of himself tipping his hat with "Thanx and a tip of the Hatlo hat!" It's part of me now.
A few years ago I submitted an idea that got used in another, newer, single-panel cartoon, "Pluggers": "A plugger's idea of old money is bills that don't stick together." Got my name in the panel. Cool.
Here's a terrific poem by Billy Collins, who was Poet Laureate of the United States 2001-2003. Maybe I'm violating copyright by posting it here, but as U.S. citizens and taxpayers, we ought to be able to pass our Poet Laureate's poems around:
You are the bread and the knife,
the crystal goblet and the wine.
You are the dew on the morning grass
and the burning wheel of the sun.
You are the white apron of the baker
and the marsh birds suddenly in flight.
However, you are not the wind in the orchard,
the plums on the counter,
or the house of cards.
And you are certainly not the pine-scented air.
There is just no way you are the pine-scented air.
It is possible that you are the fish under the bridge,
maybe even the pigeon on the general's head,
but you are not even close
to being the field of cornflowers at dusk.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the boots in the corner
nor the boat asleep in its boathouse.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of rain on the roof.
I also happen to be the shooting star,
the evening paper blowing down an alley,
and the basket of chestnuts on the kitchen table.
I am also the moon in the trees
and the blind woman's tea cup.
But don't worry, I am not the bread and the knife.
You are still the bread and the knife.
You will always be the bread and the knife,
not to mention the crystal goblet and ~ somehow ~ the wine.
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