cipher

I know this word only in numerical and cryptographic contexts. Apparently there are others!

Definition of word:
“n.
1. (Arith.) A character [0] which, standing by itself, expresses nothing, but when placed at the right hand of a whole number, increases its value tenfold.
2. One who, or that which, has no weight or influence.
Here he was a mere cipher. --W. Irving.
3. A character in general, as a figure or letter. [Obs.]
This wisdom began to be written in ciphers and characters and letters bearing the forms of creatures. --Sir W. Raleigh.
4. A combination or interweaving of letters, as the initials of a name; a device; a monogram; as, a painter's cipher, an engraver's cipher, etc. The cut represents the initials N. W.
5. A private alphabet, system of characters, or other mode of writing, contrived for the safe transmission of secrets; also, a writing in such characters.
His father . . . engaged him when he was very young to write all his letters to England in cipher. --Bp. Burnet.

Cipher key, a key to assist in reading writings in cipher.” (dictionary.com, Webster’s).

Where I ran across it:
11/29/08 Washington Post review, “Faust Sells Itself Short at the Multiplex” by Anne Midgette, about the Met’s production and HD broadcast of Berlioz’ “La Damnation de Faust.”

“…As for John Relyea, he offered, in the house, a variant on the tried-and-true devil shtick that opera-goers have seen countless times before, in a voice that is competent enough, but expressively a cipher; the camera allowed it to appear as if something special was going on.…”

My two cents:
Recently I enjoyed the Met’s HD broadcast of “La Damnation de Faust” at my local theater. I read, with interest, the Washington Post critic’s review which runs both hot and cold, as does my opinion of her review. She makes some points with which I agree, and some I don’t. When she likens the baritone to a cipher, however, I’m curious.

I first learned the word “cipher” as a kid ordering secret de-coder rings from cereal boxes. I’ve always understood ciphering to be about numbers and words. But reading the word today in a different context altogether sent me directly to the dictionary. And now I discover that there’s this: “One who, or that which, has no weight or influence.” Now I’m really curious. (And how did I miss this all my life?)

A cipher is basically a big fat zero, and quite the versatile chameleon. It expresses nothing (ergo, the critic's baritone slap). It has no value in and of itself. When added to another number it adds no value. But when placed to the right of a number, its companion’s value is increased ten-fold! Unselfish Hero! But if you multiply a number by it, it reduces the number to zero. Devilish Scamp! But also, it means one or that which has no weight or influence. Ineffectual Fop!

What an odd Triune, a triple paradox. How can something which has no value or influence, but simply by virtue of its proximity to something else, exert an influence on the very magnitude of said something else ten-fold?! How, then, can that be considered a non-influential entity?

I’m feeling fairly stoopid over this. And all this consternation’s giving me a headache. Time for something mindless. Facebook, anyone?

portmanteau

Should know this. Don’t.

Definition of portmanteau:
“n.
1. A word formed by merging the sounds and meanings of two different words, as chortle, from chuckle and snort.

2. A word concocted by fusing two different words together into one: a common example is brunch, from ‘breakfast’ and ‘lunch’. The term was coined by Lewis Carroll in Through the Looking‐Glass (1871), where he invents the word slithy from ‘lithe’ and ‘slimy’; the portmanteau referred to is a kind of suitcase composed of two halves. The most extended literary use of portmanteau words is found in James Joyce's novel Finnegans Wake (1939).” (answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
There I was, looking up “Bollywood” on answers.com, and in the definition was this wonderful word, portmanteau…

“…The name is a portmanteau of Bombay (the former name for Mumbai) and Hollywood, the center of the American film industry…”

My two cents:
Hi, I’m Susie and I have a problem.

Hi, Susie.

I am a linkoholic. There, I said it. I can’t stop clicking on hyperlinks.

I suffer from the dreaded Ooh, Look, A Bunny Syndrome. Yes, OLABS is my curse. There is no cure. The disease can only be managed. I am powerless under the spell of the bunnies, er hyperlinks. One is too many, and a thousand never enough. Damn those bunnies. Damn those hyperlinks. Damn this disease. Here's my story:

It all started out so innocently. I was curious about “Bollywood” and wanted to know more. Just one little research session I told myself. Off to answers.com I went, where those siren bunnies / hyperlinks lay in wait...

Then it happened: Ooh, look, there’s a cool word that I don’t know, portmanteau. Ooh, look, a bunny / hyperlink. Click. Ooh, look at all the hyperlinks in the definition! Click, read, ooh, click, scroll, read more, ooh, ooh, click, read, scroll, click, ooh, click, click…

Friends, before I knew it I had spent hours clicking hyperlinks and chasing bunnies from answers.com to Wikipedia; from Bollywood to Hollywood to the slithy toves and mimsy borogoves in Lewis Carroll’s Jabberwocky, to Humpty Dumpty’s lexical selection in Through the Looking-Glass, to James Joyce’s prodigious use of portmanteaus in Finnegans Wake, to linguistic blends and function words, to… oh never mind. Suffice it to say that there were many, many more bunnies.

Were it not for my right-click / “open link in new tab” coping skills, I’d have been completely and irretrievably lost. Oh the shame. Oh the humanity.

The first step is admitting the problem...

I guess that’s it. Thanks for listening.

encomium

news to me

Definition of encomium:
“n., pl. -mi·ums or -mi·a

1. Warm, glowing praise.
2. A formal expression of praise; a tribute.

[Latin encōmium, from Greek enkōmion (epos), (speech) praising a victor, neuter of enkōmios, of the victory procession : en-, in; see en–² + kōmos, celebration.” (answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
11/26/08 Time magazine article, “Bush’s Last Days: The Lamest Duck,” by Joe Klein.

“…Bush has that forlorn what-the-hell-happened? expression on his face, the one that has marked his presidency at difficult times. You never want to see the President of the United States looking like that.

So I've been searching for valedictory encomiums. His position on immigration was admirable and courageous; he was right about the Dubai Ports deal and about free trade in general. He spoke well, in the abstract, about the importance of freedom. He is an impeccable classicist when it comes to baseball. And that just about does it for me.…”

My two cents:
I thank my friend, Leanne, for sending me to Joe Klein’s spot-on, vocabulary-enriching article. Encomium is a perfectly wonderful word, but way too close in my mind to “meconium” which, how do I put this, is poo. My brain is now straining (sorry) to separate the praise from the poo. How hard should that be?

Perhaps I should just embrace this unlikely pairing and celebrate the birth of a new term I just made up: “meconium encomium.” I’ve decided it's akin to faint praise, only worse. Much worse. Downright poopy, in fact. Coined just in time for Mr. Bush’s exit.

How appropriate.

saignant

saignant
The high school French is way rusty after forty years.

Definition of saignant:
“saignant, (french) /sɛɲɑ̃/, /ɑ̃t/ adjective (after the verb, saigner, to bleed)

1. [meat] rare; bloody

2. figurative (familiar) [criticism] savage.” (wordreference.com).

Where I ran across it:
11/21/08 NYT movie review of “Twilight”, “The Love That Dare Not Bare Its Fangs,” by Manohla Dargis.

“…If Ms. Meyer has made the vampire story safe for her readers (and their parents) — the sole real menace comes from a half-baked subplot involving some swaggering vampires who like their steak saignant and human — it’s only because she suggests that there actually is something worse than death, especially for teenagers: sex.…”

My two cents:
I’ve heard all the Twilight hype, but haven’t read the book. Despite the well-written review and the gift of a new word (en francais, no less!), I won’t be going to the movie, either. I just don’t do vampires. Period. Frankly, I resent them, celibate and fangless, or not.

It all goes back, oh, about 50 years - to the seminal horror movie experience that scarred me for life at the tender age of 8. Our teenage babysitter pulled a stealthy movie matinee switcheroo one Saturday afternoon, and instead of the parent-approved Tom Thumb, swore my brother and me to secrecy and sneaked us into the Fox Theater for a matinee horror double-feature: The Return of Dracula, and The Blob. I remember curling up in a sobbing, terrified ball in - and then under - my seat, eyes squinted closed, fingers in ears. Still, I saw and heard too much. After that, I began a nightly bedtime ritual. For years, bless my heart, I laid me down to sleep in wide-eyed, mortal fear, with the light on and the covers pulled tight and high, the small silver cross on the chain around my neck carefully positioned on top of the covers. And oh, the nightmares. Pitiful, I tell you. Just pitiful.

I’m all grown up and I’m over it now. I sleep peacefully, and wear no crosses to bed. I’m just fine, albeit forever changed. I know my limits. I don’t do vampires, (or clowns, by the way), or horror movies of any stripe. But sometimes I do dream of finding that babysitter, shoving her into a seat and forcing her to sit through something really horrific.

Sarah Palin on an endless loop, perhaps.

Oh-h-h you betcha!

lagniappe

a very familiar word, which I can both pronounce and spell. Also a very frustrating word because I cannot for the life of me define it without looking it up. Arggh!

Definition of lagniappe:
“la·gniappe (lăn'yəp, lăn-yăp')
n. Chiefly Southern Louisiana & Mississippi.

1. A small gift presented by a storeowner to a customer with the customer's purchase.
2. An extra or unexpected gift or benefit. Also called boot. See Regional Note.

[Louisiana French, from American Spanish la ñapa, the gift : la, the (from Latin illa, feminine of ille, that, the) + ñapa (variant of yapa, gift, from Quechua, from yapay, to give more).]

REGIONAL NOTE: Lagniappe derives from New World Spanish la ñapa, “the gift,” and ultimately from Quechua yapay, “to give more.” The word came into the rich Creole dialect mixture of New Orleans and there acquired a French spelling. It is still used in the Gulf States, especially southern Louisiana, to denote a little bonus that a friendly shopkeeper might add to a purchase. By extension, it may mean “an extra or unexpected gift or benefit.” ” (answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
11/14/08 NYT article, “The Wild Wordsmith of Wasilla” by Dick Cavett.

“PS: Lagniappe for English mavens: A friend of mine has made you laugh greatly over the years. ... As a language fan, he has preserved many gems for posterity in his prodigious memory bank. Here comes my favorite:

A Navy lecturer was talking about some directives on the blackboard that he said to do something about, “except for these here ones with the asteroids in back of.”

Even David couldn’t make that up.”

My two cents:
Thanks as always to Dick Cavett for another smart column, and for reminding me of “lagniappe.”

I’ve had my fill of his subject matter, however: that frightening woman from the frozen north; poster girl for the Peter Principle; supreme goddess of screwed up syntax; all-around enigma, or should I say anathema??? Why did/do so many Americans like her? That’s Cavett’s question, and mine, too. It would be nice if she’d go quietly, now. Wouldn’t that be a beneficent parting gift, a truly lovely lagniappe from her to the country? Fat chance, friends. The press won’t leave her alone, and vice versa. She isn’t going away. Like the scary thing in a really bad horror movie, she keeps coming ba-a-a-ck. Cue the creepy music and cover your eyes. The show ain’t over.

Who ya gonna call, gosh darn it.

There Are No Words Today

Our first post-election day dawns. Barack Obama is the 44th president-elect of the United States.

Today I am hopeful.

Today I am grateful.

Today I am speechless.

Today there simply are no words.

tyro

ringing a bell here, but truthfully… uh, nope, nobody’s home

Definition of tyro:
n., ty·ro also ti·ro (tī'rō)

“One who is just starting to learn or do something: abecedarian, beginner, fledgling, freshman, greenhorn, initiate, neophyte, novice, novitiate, tenderfoot. Slang rookie.” [Medieval Latin t[ymacr]rō, squire, variant of Latin tīrō, recruit.] (answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
11/1/08 NYT article, “Who’s The Question Mark?,” by Maureen Dowd.

“…While acknowledging he was a tech tyro, he promised to try “a Google,” as he called searching the Web, to put government spending online so citizens could bird-dog it.…”

My two cents:
Tuesday can’t come soon enough. I just got an ugly robo call – on Sunday morning, people – tattling on Barack Obama’s aunt, of all things. I’m sure it won’t be the only one between now and Tuesday. Holy Mother of God. Make it stop.

What’s up with this tiny little word, tyro, that I should have never met its acquaintance in my entire life? I am now reminded that I am but a tyro, myself, in this whole business of words and language. But, hey, I’m not beating myself up over it. To paraphrase Jerry Clower, one can’t know everything that’s in every book in every library, can one?

I attended a lecture years ago where the speaker confessed to an outrageous fantasy. As a once-fledgling, hyper vigilant student of horticulture, she actually aspired to an ultimate goal of owning (not just learning the names of, but actually owning) one of every kind of plant there is. We all shook our heads and had a good laugh over that notion, but it stayed with me. “The Goal,” I decided that day, isn’t a stopping point at which we have acquired, or have done, or now know it all, is it? No, “The Goal,” I decided, is not a static destination, but a constant and vibrant process, a long and winding road of humble discovery, discernment, and continued enlightenment that never ends. It's a good and joyful thing, and it's up to me to walk it, or not.

mestizo

another new word for me

Definition of mestizo:
“mes·ti·zo (mĕs-tē'zō)

n. A person of mixed racial ancestry, especially of mixed European and Native American ancestry.

[Spanish, mixed, mestizo, from Old Spanish, mixed, from Late Latin mixtīcius, from Latin mixtus, past participle of miscēre, to mix.]” (answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
10/29/31 NYT op-ed column, “American Stories” by Roger Cohen.

“…He is the providential mestizo whose name — O-Ba-Ma — has the three-syllable universality of some child’s lullaby.…”

My two cents:
We’re in the home stretch kids. The presidential election is in a few short days. I’ve had more than my fill of all the campaigning drama, most especially the desperate, last minute mud-slinging and frantic finger-pointing. I’m not naming names. I’m just sayin.’ Enough already.

Roger Cohen’s beautiful op-ed piece is a rare and quiet gift in these raucous last few days before the election. You simply must read it. I can only say thanks, and thanks again – thanks for the new word, but thanks mostly for the eloquent calm within the storm.

synecdoche

Color me clueless.

Definition of synecdoche:
“[si‐nek‐dŏki], a common figure of speech (or trope) by which something is referred to indirectly, either by naming only some part or constituent of it (e.g. ‘hands’ for manual labourers) or—less often—by naming some more comprehensive entity of which it is a part (e.g. ‘the law’ for a police officer). Usually regarded as a special kind of metonymy, synecdoche occurs frequently in political journalism (e.g.‘Moscow’ for the Russian government) and sports commentary (e.g. ‘Liverpool’ for one of that city's football teams), but also has literary uses like Dickens's habitual play with bodily parts: the character of Mrs Merdle in Little Dorrit is referred to as ‘the Bosom’.” (answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
10/24/08 NYT movie review, “Dreamer, Live in the Here and Now” by Mahnola Dargis, about the new movie “Synecdoche, New York.”

“…To say that Charlie Kaufman’s “Synecdoche, New York” is one of the best films of the year or even one closest to my heart is such a pathetic response to its soaring ambition that I might as well pack it in right now. …”

My two cents:
My friend, Cheryl, emailed me this awesome word, swearing she had never heard of it before. (Me, neither!) She didn’t tell me where she had seen it, but as soon as I opened my NYT for the day, there it was, big as life, in the movie reviews. It’s in the title of Charlie Kaufman’s new movie, “Synecdoche, New York” (not to be confused with, but pronounced with the same accents as Schenectady, New York. Coincidence? I think not.). What a great two-fer: not only is this a wonderful word, but rarely does one get the opportunity to piggy-back off the lessons learned just the day before (see yesterday’s blog entry: “tropism/trope” and today’s definition which includes “trope”). Schweet!!

What I gather from Dargis’ review is that this artsy, weird, non-linear, fascinating flick sounds like an existential cross between Hollywood's “The Truman Show,” Miller's “Death of a Salesman,” Shakespeare's "As You Like It," Sartre's “No Exit,” and an M.C. Escher "Impossible Drawing." It probably won’t make it to my small town. Too obtuse for our mainstream theaters, no doubt. But I’m going to make a point of finding it, and going to see it. Any movie that plants cerebral insider clues to its raison d’etre in, say, the lead character’s last name, Cotard, (go Google it!) is noteworthy in my book. ("The Simpsons," sophomoric as it is, earns my undying respect for similar genius, as in one episode when Marge’s prison uniform bears a number which, in fact, is Jean Valjean’s number in Les Miz. All hail the clever, esoteric inside joke!).

One of the lines from the “Synecdoche, New York” trailer says, “There are millions of people in the world and none of those people is an extra. They’re all leads in their own stories.” What a great tease for all of us Everymen/women. It strikes me as incredibly provocative; insightful, although not necessarily comforting. Feeling like an insignificant speck, a nobody? Buck up, pal. Remember: you are the lead in your own story. Cue the lights! All the world's a stage! Now get out there, sonny, and make us proud! But hey, no pressure, or anything…

tropism

Here’s a word I thought I knew -- and didn’t.

Definition of tropism:
n. (trohp-ism) “an involuntary orienting response; positive or negative reaction to a stimulus source ... The turning or bending movement of an organism or a part toward or away from an external stimulus, such as light, heat, or gravity.” (answers.com).

Not to be confused with the word, “trope,” which means:

n.

1. "A figure of speech using words in non-literal ways, such as a metaphor.
2. A word or phrase interpolated as an embellishment in the sung parts of certain medieval liturgies.
3. 1533, from L. tropus "a figure of speech," from Gk. tropos "turn, direction, turn or figure of speech," related to trope "a turning" and tropein "to turn," from PIE base trep- "to turn" (cf. Skt. trapate "is ashamed, confused," prop. "turns away in shame;" L. trepit "he turns"). Technically, in rhetoric, a figure of speech which consists in the use of a word or phrase in a sense other than that which is proper to it." (answers.com)
   

Where I ran across it:
10/21/08 NYT article, “Patio Man Revisited” by David Brooks.

“…But, most of all, there is a tropism toward order and stability. …”

My two cents:
Lesson for today: while different, trope and tropism still have the same meaning at their root: “Turn.”

Wait. I’m having a moment. “Turns” are popping, uninvited, into my head. It’s a veritable free-association fest in there:

Turn around bright eyes…

To everything turn, turn, turn…

Turn around and you’re tiny, turn around and you’re grown…

Turn your radio on…

Like a carousel that's turning, Running rings around the moon (...like the windmills of your mind)

And finally: “In olden days a hint of stocking was looked on as something shocking, now Heaven knows, anything goes…” I suppose this has absolutely nothing to do with turning, but I'm not editing this free-association fest. It's coming straight off the ol' ticker tape. Lucky you. Wait, I take that back. Metaphorically speaking, it has everything to do with turning. Ooh, look, a trope.

Somewhere along the way, we took a wrong turn. As The World Turns (upside down), our stomachs churn over an economy that has taken seriously ill, and is taking a daily turn for the worse. It's taken some time and effort, but thanks to greed, avarice, stupidity and denial, we have managed to dig ourselves an enormous economic hole. The once thriving economic worm has now turned, and we find ourselves looking straight into the gaping maw of uncharted madness. Banks, mortgage companies, big retail stores are going under daily, and dispossessed homeowners are turning their keys in their locks for the last time. Our economy is a nightmare, a bad joke. Wall Street's "turned funny," too. Nobody’s laughing. It’s a veritable, stomach-turning, blood-curdling “Turn of the Screw” horror story that has, indeed, “held us round the fire, sufficiently breathless.” Don’t hold your breath, people. It’s going to take some time to turn this boat around. This is no time for panic.

But Who Can We Turn To? Where destiny leads us, of course, where steady hand and calm head prevail. For life-saving sustenance and holy guidance I'm turning back, forswearing my foolish ways, and falling prostrate on the altar of the One, the Only: Warren Buffett. He has already written a re-assuring, post-apocalyptic epistle to the world in last week's NYT. Thanks be to Buffett. Amen.

Time’s up, kids. Pencils down. We've turned in our papers, and have failed miserably. We turn away in shame. The test of time, turns out, is a real bitch.

tautological

I really couldn't define this word, which surprises me because it is so familiar. I sure can define it now.

Definition of tautological:
“adj. Characterized by repetition and excessive wordiness: circumlocutionary, roundabout. See repetition, words.” (answers.com).

"n., pl. –gies
--Use of redundant language that adds no information.

--Logic. An empty or vacuous statement composed of simpler statements in a fashion that makes it logically true whether the simpler statements are factually true or false; for example, the statement Either it will rain tomorrow or it will not rain tomorrow.

--Poetry. The unnecessary and excessive repetition of the same idea in different words in the same sentence, as "The room was completely dark and had no illumination," or "A breeze greeted the dusk and nightfall was heralded by a gentle wind." (answers.com)

Where I ran across it:
l0/5/08 Fox News article, “SNL Slices, Dices Palin and Biden in Debate Sendup.”

“…If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, Fey's presentation of Palin as a Bible-thumping, beauty queen with a tautological belief system suggests the comedy show loves the Alaska governor.…”

My two cents:
I’ll keep this short and to the point.

Sadly, the world now has a new, updated definition. Tautological = Sarah Palin. ‘Nuff said, wink-wink.

And by the way, here’s a shout-out to Sarah: It’s “nuclear." NU-CLE-AR!! How hard can that be?

Doggone it.

meme

It’s a familiar word to me, but what does it mean?

Definition of meme:
“n. (mēme) a unit of cultural information, such as a cultural practice or idea, that is transmitted verbally or by repeated action from one mind to another.

[Shortening (modeled on GENE) of mimeme, from Greek mimēma, something imitated, from mimeisthai, to imitate. See mimesis.]” (answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
9/4/08 Vanity Fair’s Politics and Power Blog, “Cindy McCain’s $300,000 Outfit”.

“…One of the persistent memes in the Republican line of attack against Barack Obama is the notion that he is an elitist, whereas the G.O.P. represent real working Americans like Levi “F-in’ Redneck” Johnston.…”

My two cents:
Certain Republicans have come a long way since the days of Pat Nixon’s sensible cloth coat, haven’t they? Vanity Fair has dished the dirt on Cindy McCain’s and Laura Bush’s Republican convention attire the other night, and frankly, I’m aghast. Six figures! Each! Or maybe I’m just jealous. I guess if I had Cindy’s money (and Cindy’s houses) I’d wear Oscar de la Renta, too. Just not on the night I was supposed to get the American public to relate to me and elect my husband.

Only two more months until the post-election dawn of November 5^th delivers some sweet relief from all this election frenzy. Unless, of course, we get into a dicey situation like Al Gore and W. did in '00 on account of the Floridians and their hanging chads. What a mess that was. Nobody got any relief for weeks, and the victor was ultimately chosen not by the popular vote but by the Electoral College and the Supreme Court. Talk about an eye opener. I got a little jaded about the election process after that. Maybe I have control issues.

Anyway, the question I have about the word, meme, is this: why is there no synonym for it in Microsoft Word? Try it yourself. Type “meme” in Word and right click and select Synonyms. See? It says, “No Suggestions.” Weird, huh?

Maybe Word's great and powerful Synonyms Oz is simply clueless, and just needs somebody to make a suggestion.

Maybe that goes for certain Republicans, too.

anodyne

This is one of those slippery words that I think I know but when pressed can’t actually define.

Definition of anodyne:
“adj. Capable of soothing or eliminating pain.
n. A medicine, such as aspirin, that relieves pain. A source of soothing comfort.” (answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
8/29/08 Time Magazine article about the recent Democratic convention in Denver, “The Convention: Redefining Change” by David Von Drehle.

“…Left on the altar of the anodyne was a much more interesting convention that might have been.…”

My two cents:
We’re in the thick of it now, children. It’s drama drama drama in American politics, and it’s riveting. It’s historic. It’s head-spinning one-upsmanship at its highest and best.

An unprecedented extravaganza that was the Democratic convention just concluded in Denver. There were surprises: Obama’s VP pick, unveiled in a pointedly new-age way via text message and email, is the affable, yet older, wiser, and better connected Washington career politician, Joe Biden. How this squares with the buzzword du campaign, "change," I have no idea.

There were speeches: Hillary took the high road. An ailing Ted summoned the Kennedy strength to deliver a rousing oratory. Michelle didn’t put her foot in it. Thankfully, Jesse didn’t speak at all, but his son did. Now that was a change for the better.

There were cheers and tears: Obama’s acceptance speech, delivered on the very anniversary of Dr. King’s “I Have a Dream” speech, was moved to Mile High Stadium to accommodate a crowd of over 75,000.

There were amazing visuals and there was music. There were fireworks, and people like Cheryl Crowe and John Legend performed. The soaring set, with its Doric columns, was so grand it was dubbed, “Barackopolis.” The stage boasted an expansive staircase of concentric circular steps carpeted in brilliant, Presidential blue.

It was the political version of an all-out Vegas spectacle, minus the dancing showgirls.

Lord, what drama.

And there was something else no one saw coming. No sooner did Barack Obama have us all "up in that," the very next morning John McCain grabbed the drama flag and ran with it. In a spectacularly stunning display of stop-the-presses one-upsmanship, McCain announced his choice for his Vice Presidential running mate: a woman. A young woman. With big hair and 5 kids. Governor of Alaska, no less (How does she do it? How will she do this?). They made their announcement the old fashioned way, at a podium with a microphone. No text messages or emails for ol' John the Luddite who admitted to a reporter that he had gone on the internet for the first time last week, and had no idea what Google was. But while a grinning, crazy-like-a-fox McCain displayed near-perfect comportment standing at the young and dewy Sarah Palin’s side (was he, or was he not, checking out her derriere?), deep down he must have been doing the happy dance, thumbing his nose at the Democrats, and laughing his ass off. All this, and the Republicans have yet to convene.

But wait, there's more. Snatching the drama flag from McCain's very grasp and upstaging everybody is a nasty villain named Gustav, a Cat 3 hurricane heading straight for New Orleans.

Lord, Lord, the drama. Pass me an anodyne, and give us all strength.

manque

Never heard this word in my life.

Definition of manqué:
adj. (män-kā´)

Unfulfilled or frustrated in the realization of one's ambitions or capabilities: an artist manqué; a writer manqué. Synonym: would-be.” (answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
8/10/08 NYT op-ed piece by Maureen Dowd, “Keeping it Rielle,” a spot-on assessment of Democratic candidate John Edwards and his recently revealed sexual misconduct.

“…The president manqué gives Rielle Hunter, formerly Lisa Druck, more than $114,000 to shoot vain little videos for his Web site …”

My two cents:
Once again, Maureen Dowd brings it on: a new word for my vocabulary, and a fabulous article to boot.

I’m so sick of politicians who cheat on their wives. The latest stupid political man-pig is John Edwards. I don’t even know where to start with him. I'm so exasperated, I'm positively speechless. I need a chill pill.

Fortunately, Maureen Dowd’s column says it all so perfectly that I need not even try to gild the lily here.

So, go read. It’s just too good to miss.

lemniscate

This is a new word for me.

Definition of lemniscate:
“In algebraic geometry, any of several figure-eight or ∞ shaped curves, of which the best known is the Lemniscate of Bernoulli. It is also sometimes used to refer to the ∞ symbol used in mathematics as a symbol for infinity” (answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
8/8/08 NYT opinion article, “Crazy Eights,” in which illustrator Ben Schotts delivers a lot of useless (but interesting) information about the number 8.

“…Representing infinity with an elongated and rotated figure 8 is credited to the mathematician and cryptographer, John Wallis, who first used the lemniscate symbol in 1655…”

My two cents:
That old math deficit keeps returning to haunt me. Had I not been busy developing a nervous condition from trying to pass high school algebra and geometry, I might have learned the word lemniscate. I don’t remember learning much (if any) algebra from those days, but I remember my algebra teacher. He had a withered arm and was, I thought at the time, very old. He was probably no more than 50. At 16, 50 is very, very old. Now that I’m over 50, not so much. Although there are days when I seriously wonder…

Speaking of old, today’s NYT article about the number 8 is pretty interesting, with lots of references to ancient history, archaic origins, and customs surrounding that number. Example: tonight’s opening ceremonies for the 2008 Olympics in Beijing will begin at 8:08pm because in China, 8 is a lucky number.

Maybe I’ll get lucky in my old age and remember to tune in.

carapace

Wish I could say I know this word, but I can’t, ‘cause I don’t

Definition of carapace:
1. “Zoology. A hard bony or chitinous outer covering, such as the fused dorsal plates of a turtle or the portion of the exoskeleton covering the head and thorax of a crustacean.

2. A protective, shell-like covering likened to that of a turtle or crustacean.

3. The ultimate thick skin: if you've got one you're protected against sticks, stones and name-calling.” (answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
7/18/08 NYT movie review,“Showdown in Gotham Town,” by Manohla Dargis, about the new Batman movie, "The Dark Knight."

“…In and out of his black carapace and on the restless move, Batman remains, perhaps not surprisingly then, a recessive, almost elusive figure. …”

My two cents:
While the movie is technically the “star” of Manohla Dargis’ review, there’s another contender: the review itself. This writer is on my short list of favorites. Go read her stuff and you’ll see why. Thing of beauty. Girl can flat turn a phrase.

And the word, "carapace" is really playing with me. See Definition 3. I’m suddenly grappling with the gentle reminder that there’s a world of difference between pretending to have a thick skin, and actually having one. So while you’re reading Ms. Dargis’ review, I’ll be busy searching for a clue, and a carapace.

Something tells me I won’t find them on ebay or craigslist. Damn.

desultory

I know this word, but I never use it. Probably because I keep forgetting it exists, not to mention forgetting what it means. That’s sad. Gonna fix that.

Definition of desultory:
1. “Having no set plan; haphazard or random.”
2. “Moving or jumping from one thing to another; disconnected: a desultory speech.” (answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
7/13/08 NYT article, “Happy Birthday, Milton” by Stanley Fish

“…Milton’s poetry never lets you relax . Even when one of the famous similes wanders down what appears to be a desultory path of mythical allusions and idealized landscapes, it always returns you in the end to the moral perspective that had only apparently been suspended.…”

My two cents:
I’ve been aware of the word, “desultory” since the 60s when I was a budding boomer and Simon and Garfunkel were strumming away, singing “A Simple Desultory Philippic (Or How I Was Robert McNamara’d Into Submission).” Man, those were the days. They just don’t write ‘em like they used to. Where have all the flowers gone, anyway?

Stanley Fish’s column in yesterday's NYT is his report from London’s Ninth International Milton Symposium, where a bunch of professional John Milton-ophiles gather every year to whoop it up and have a rockin’ good time with 17^th century literature. Woh. Maybe this crowd, and Fish's column, are just a tad over-the-top-cerebral, but that's ok. They made me realize I didn’t know much about Milton, and I don’t recall ever reading his epic poem, “Paradise Lost,” (remember, Art School vs. Harvard?). So, I’ve just been on a merry lark of my own at PinkMonkey.com to read the annotated version. Really interesting. Milton is pretty deep. And wide. Heaven and Hell and Eternity and all that. Dante’s got nothin’ on this guy.

Fully edified, I then skipped off to research my boys, S&G, and their curious song from my nostalgic past. Check out what I found at Random House’s Word of the Day website (quoting here):

“In Roman times, a desultor was a skilled horseman who could vault from horse to horse mid-gallop--a fitting image for a conversational ‘leaper’ who flits from topic to topic.

A Philippic (spelled with one l and usually capitalized) is a spoken or written diatribe against whatever it is you feel that strongly about--be it a person, an idea, or a course of action, although the term Philippic was originally confined to a denunciation of a person. It comes from Demosthenes’ 4th century B.C. orations against Philip, the king of Macedon (who was the father of Alexander the Great), delivered to the men of Athens.

Paul Simon’s 1966 lyrics for ‘A Simple Desultory Philippic, or How I was Robert McNamara’d Into Submission’ are a little different from his 1964 version, which is in the Paul Simon Songbook. That one has Lyndon Johnson in the subtitle, and is a little nastier. Robert McNamara - President Johnson’s Secretary for Defense, one of his three special advisors on the growing war in Vietnam and arguably the most disastrous of the trio - replaced Lyndon Johnson in the song’s lengthy subtitle on the 1966 Simon & Garfunkel album Parsley, Sage, Rosemary, and Thyme.

Here are the first and last verses:

I been Norman Mailered, Maxwell Taylored.
I been John O'Hara'd, McNamara'd.
I been Rolling Stoned and Beatled till I'm blind.
I been Ayn Randed, nearly branded
Communist, 'cause I'm left-handed.
That's the hand I use, well, never mind!
...
I been Mick Jaggered, silver daggered.
Andy Warhol, won't you please come home?
I been mothered, fathered, aunt and uncled,
Been Roy Haleed and Art Garfunkeled.
I just discovered somebody's tapped my phone.”

Granted, Milton and his 17th century poetry are certainly a trip. But so are Simon & Garfunkel, and the 60s. Now those were the days, my friend. (But that's another song, altogether.)

And I think I just wrote a desultory blog entry. Why, yes, yes I did.

capo

I know this word only in the musical sense. Surprise.

Definition of capo:
“1. A small movable bar placed across the fingerboard of a guitar or similar instrument so as to raise the pitch of all the strings uniformly.
2. The head of a branch of an organized crime syndicate. [Italian, from Latin caput, head.”(answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
Frank Rich’s 7/13/08 NYT op-ed column, “The Real-Life ‘24’ of Summer 2008,” on Jane Mayer's scary new Washington tell-all book, "The Dark Side."

“…No wonder the former Rumsfeld capo, Douglas Feith, is trying to discredit a damaging interview he gave to the British lawyer Philippe Sands for another recent and essential book on what happened, “Torture Team.…”

My two cents:
OK, you watch The Sopranos. Or you know – or you ARE – one. Or your vocabulary is just better than mine. So you’re not surprised by definition number two. Badda bing, good for you. You. You got a talent.

Maybe you also already know what Frank Rich has to say in his fairly alarmist op-ed column about Jane Mayer's book exposing the wise guy tactics employed by the current administration. If so, score another one for you, pal. If not, maybe you should read the column, and Jane Mayer's book -- and weep.

Cue the mandolins and cross yourself. It ain't pretty.

trenchant

Thought I knew this word. Guess not.

Definition of trenchant:
adjective
“1. Possessing or displaying perceptions of great accuracy and sensitivity: acute, incisive, keen, penetrating, perceptive, probing, sensitive, sharp.

2. So sharp as to cause mental pain: acerbic, acid, acidic, acrid, astringent, biting, caustic, corrosive, cutting, mordacious, mordant, pungent, scathing, sharp, slashing, stinging, truculent, vitriolic.” (answers.com).

Where I ran across it:
7/9/08 NYT article, “Dreams of Laura” by Maureen Dowd, about “American Wife,” a fictionalized biography of First Lady Laura Bush etal.

“…Ms. Sittenfeld was not out to sensationalize but sympathize. The portraits of Laura and W. — known as Alice and Charlie Blackwell here — are trenchant and make you like them more.…”

My two cents:
I’ll admit right here I had this one wrong. I always thought trenchant meant something akin to relevant, germane, applicable, significant. Apparently not. And now I am flummoxed. Check out definitions 1 and 2 above. How does the same word have two so totally opposite meanings? What do you think about the possibility of being “sensitive” and “vitriolic” at the same time? Is that really achievable? Maybe it means that you are being sensitive to the fact that there’s some trash talk going on, and… you’re the one talking?? Clearly I need a clue on this one.

And apparently all it takes to avoid invading someone’s privacy, or worse, engaging in libel and slander, is to write stuff you know about people, make up the rest, assign them pseudonyms, and call the whole thing a fictional biography. Boom. Tom Wolfe did it with “A Man in Full.” James Frey did it but didn't admit it with “A Million Little Pieces”. Too bad for him. Shoulda woulda coulda. Fictional biographies certainly are successful these days, and I'm sure "Dreams of Laura" is no exception. Entertaining? No doubt. But, trenchant? Hell if I know.

cosset; fungible

A two-fer! Two words I don’t know in the same article. Wow. I must be slipping…

Definition of cosset:
“v. To treat with indulgence and pamper, often overtender care: baby, cater, coddle, indulge, mollycoddle, overindulge, spoil.” (answers.com).

Definition of fungible:
“adj. 1. Law. Returnable or negotiable in kind or by substitution, as a quantity of grain for an equal amount of the same kind of grain. 2. Interchangeable.

n.Something that is exchangeable or substitutable. Often used in the plural.” (answers.com).

Where I ran across them:
6/25/08 NYT op-ed article by Maureen Dowd, “More Phony Myths,”

“…Conservatives love playing this little game, acting as if the “elite” Democratic candidates are not in touch with people like themselves, even though the guys doing the attacking — like Rove, Limbaugh, O’Reilly and Hannity — are wealthy and cosseted.…For some of Obama’s critics, it’s a breathtaking bit of fungible principles, as though Gandhi suddenly donned a Dolce & Gabbana, or Dolce & Mahatma, loincloth.…”

My two cents:
Three cheers for Maureen Dowd! I love this woman’s attitude, her writing style, and her vocabulary. Sorry I can’t say the same for Karl Rove and company, the subject of her spunky, observant NYT op-ed piece concerning the cheap verbal shots coming at Obama of late from various vitriolic Republican folks like Rove, some of whom really ought not to be throwing stones. I mean seriously, what about that whole karmic, glass-house thing?

Some folks have more insurance, I guess…