An Open Letter to Mispronouncers of Plain and Reasonably Phonetic English Words

Dear English Language Offenders:

It has recently come to my attention that there is a vast conspiracy. Of you. Against me.

Me: hapless word nerd, fighting the good but apparently fruitless fight for correct pronunciation. You (surprisingly): white, middle-to-upper-middle class, native English-speakers with at least a two-year college degree. Many of you, indeed, are of even higher socioeconomic status and hold even more advanced degrees, and should therefore know better. And yet, the offense continues.

Why do you torment me? Why do you insist upon drinking "melk" -- or "myilk," or, heaven forbid, "malk" -- in your "expresso" and setting off "nookyaler" bombs in countries "acrost" the world and sending your children off to "kinnygarden" and eating "donits" covered with "peanits" (and please do be careful with that one)? One might even say the list goes on, "excetra, excetra."

It is as though there is a toggle switch in my brain, the opposite ends labeled "mental homeostasis" and "murderous rage." And every time one of you says the word "samwich," I can feel a finger on that switch. Waiting. Waiting.

Ebonics and other American cultural linguistic phenomena aside, I remain baffled. I do not speak today of mistakes in grammar, punctuation or syntax. Nor do I speak of regional dialects (though they mystify me as well, what with some of you putting "earl" in the engine, using the "terlet" in the men's room and "pahking" the "cah"). These are not words of freshly foreign origin; they are not new to this part of the world. No one is asking you to stand up and represent in the face of such linguistic hurdles as "Quetzalcoatl" or "schadenfreude" or "trompe l'oeil." This is plain English, people.

And it's not even tricky plain English, like that I Love Lucy episode in which Ricky, in a comically stereotypical non-native-English-speaker way, stumbles over "rough," "through," and "bough" as he is reading a bedtime story to Little Ricky, his fiery Cuban hackles raised at the absurdity of three different pronunciations of the same letter grouping. You should all know better. You should.

What's more, I think you do know better, and I think you are just waiting to see how much more I can take before I snap.

So I have an idea. I will fight back. I will foil you by re-educating your offspring. My Center for the Proper Pronunciation of Childhood Dining Delicacies will eliminate this growing problem by rehabilitating our nation's youth who have been taught, whether by encouragement or by simple lack of correction, to describe a popular pasta dish as "puh-sketti." While the Center does not yet have funding, I am certain to receive adequate financial support from John Malkovich, who was tragically forced to abandon his birth name of Milkovich when, as a young actor, he bowed to the pressure of the mispronouncing masses. Oh, yes. Our dream lives on, and someday we will prevail.

And from that day forward, you will never again pierce my eardrums -- and my soul -- with your torturous word mangling.

Viva la Revolucion,

Jenny

Beyond Beautiful

Amazing. Apparently, the Arrowsmiths have what it takes to keep doing the same old song and dance for eighty years.

The Joke That Tells Itself

According to an e-mail I just got from Ticketmaster, the next "American Idols Live" tour is being presented by...Pop-Tarts.

Blood, Sweat and Tears

As a rule, the only thing I enjoy about boxing is the fact that it is also called "pugilism," which is more fun to say and hear and spell than most other words.

Seriously, boxing is a sport where two men -- and even women, nowadays, which I fail to understand -- are paid to beat each other until: A.) one of them, resembling pre-cooked meat, is rendered horizontal and motionless, or B.) both resemble pre-cooked meat, but only one is chosen as victor by judges with unbroken noses, wearing nice outfits unsullied by their own various bodily fluids. My astonishment at the fact that these men are paid to pound on each other is matched only by my astonishment that other people pay to watch this happen.

But I just saw Russell Crowe's new movie Cinderella Man, which is the story of Depression-era boxer James J. Braddock, and I was enthralled. Not only is it a well-told (true!) story with a good script and strong performances -- even by Renee "SquintyPucker" Zellweger, who generally makes me twitch -- it is a film with good moral messages and positive, uplifting portrayals of marriage and family. Humility. Honesty. Courage. Risk-taking. Hope. Strength of character. This is a film about men doing what they have to do and women doing their best to support and enable the men's efforts.

The reason I've seen it presumably before any of you is that I went to the world premiere at Universal Citywalk. Brian Grazer, one of the producers of the film, is a huge supporter of the Best Buddies program; the $250-per-ticket afterparty was actually a charity benefit. Denise and I were one of the few "buddy pairs" who were specially invited.

And weren't we a sight, intermingled with the eternally youthful and fabulous of Hollywood, standing there all normal-bodied in our khaki pants and matching t-shirts!

Some highlights:

• We were the first group to walk the red carpet, on our way to take our posts at the theater doors in order to hand out flyers and freebies to the moviegoers. People cheered us, so we smiled and waved. Denise, who is too cool for school, muttered, "I don't wave. I will look, but I don't wave." (She'd have waved herself into unconsciousness if Jackie Chan or Steven Seagal had been there, though, I can tell you that.)

• Before the movie, I recognized the Ron Howard trifecta of Marion Ross, Penny Marshall, and M. Night Shyamalamadingdong, as well as a few people whose faces looked familiar in that I-know-you're-somebody-but-you-look-too-3D-right-now-for-me-to-get-it sort of way.

• Just before the movie, we actually got free popcorn and sodas. Seriously. FREE. Denise was very excited about this.

• During the movie, the excellent Paul Giamatti at one point actually said the word "pugilism." I was very excited about this.

• After the movie came the photo ops. No, the photographer wasn't able to corral any of the movie stars, but we had some lovely pics snapped of the group of us with such notables as Brian Grazer, Best Buddies founder Anthony Shriver, and Frankensteinish motivational speaker Tony Robbins.

• We got to keep our "all access" passes, movie tickets and afterparty invitations. You know -- for the scrapbook, next to the picture of Tony Robbins.

• Denise and I walked the red carpet again in reverse, on the way back to the parking structure. It's surprisingly soft when you're barefoot. I've now made contact with whatever was on the bottom of thousands of famous people's designer shoes.

Not too shabby, as evenings go.

Please go see the movie. I'll tell you this: I've been to cast & crew screenings and premieres before. You know the film is good when the jaded Hollywood-types are cheering -- not for the cool and expensive visual effects sequence, or for some bigshot's name in the opening credits, but for the desperate man with the bloody face who's taking the punches for his kids.

Jenny Goes Ghetto

I went to Trader Joe's on a (failed) quest for chocolate Mochi, and as I was perusing the less enticing forms of soy-substance-posing-as-ice-cream, I heard a woman to my immediate left say "Hallelujah!" as she reached up to the shelf above the freezer. I chuckled and swiveled my head to see what she was grabbing.

It was the last two bags of some kind of cookie.

As if she had heard my unspoken question of "what snack item is so good you're praising God for it," the woman looked at me and said, "Girrrrrrrrl, these are the cookies. These cookies are SO good, make ya wanna SLAP sumbahhhdy."

(The language-obsessed part of me took immediate notice that this was the second time in a week I'd heard this particular sentiment expressed by a member of the same cultural group. The first person to mention it actually used the phrase "so good, make ya wanna slap yo momma," which I found absolutely fascinating.)

I laughed and asked to see the bag.

So the woman showed me one of the bags and said, "It's too bad there's only two left because I am buying them BOTH. I have looked EVERYwhere. The Trader Joe's near my house does NOT have any more. But if you can find these, girl, you should get them because you will SLAP sumbahhhdy."

Upon seeing the package, I made the connection: these were the little "Stroopwafels" lauded by my friend Deborah in her blog post here.

"I've heard of these!"

"Ooohhhh, girl. These cookies take the edge off PMS." Then she looked around. "You know what?"

I didn't know what. I had a feeling I was about to know what.

She began opening the package. "I am paying for these -- I am buying both of these, and you GOT to have one of these cookies. You will THANK me. I don't mind goin' ghetto, here, because I am BUYING these cookies. Have one of these cookies."

Sure, the uptight whitey in the most law-abiding part of my psyche was frantically scanning the aisle for grocery store packaging police, but I ate the cookie. And the woman looked on, eyebrows raised and nodding her approval like a bobblehead doll. Oh, it was beyond good.

"I TOLD you, girrrl!"

Something in my face must have told her she was right, because she moved away quickly. My slapping hand was at the ready.

Make My Ex-Boss Rent a Tux

The Beverly Hills crash sequence from Martin Scorcese's film The Aviator has been nominated for an MTV Movie Award in the "Best Action Sequence" category. Why do I care? Because I worked on that show with my friends and former employers at New Deal Studios, and I want to see the company get some recognition for once! Seems like when it comes to awards (Oscars, Emmys, even BAFTAs), it's "always a bridesmaid, never a bride."

The good news is that since this is a "People's Choice" style awards show, you can help! Click on this link to vote for The Aviator -- you can vote as many times as you like before the show takes place on June 9th. Vote for The Aviator even if you thought another action sequence was better! Do it because I'm your friend! (We all know that's how Hollywood works anyway....)

The Jester is Employed

(INSERT TRUMPET FANFARE HERE)

That's right, ladies and gentlemen! Effective May 24, I will once again be a productive member of society. It's a part-time office support gig for Starlight Starbright Children's Foundation, which does incredible work in the service of seriously ill kids and their families.

This job is promising for a variety of reasons, chief among them is the idea of my making just enough money to survive, such that I'll be more motivated to spend my non-office time doing some creative writing and pursuing ways to turn said writing into extra cash.

More importantly, though, I've learned quite a bit these last few months about God's faithfulness. Consistently, as I've prayed for help with little things here and there, financially and logistically and otherwise, He has provided just what I've needed at just the time I've needed it. Even the timing has been perfect: after six months of searching and researching and networking and sending resumes and writing cover letters and submitting applications and interviewing and following up and receiving generally no response despite whatever qualifications I possess...I get a job that seems like just the right fit, just as my unemployment runs out. The lesson for me here (and how many times have I learned this, now?) is that dependence on God is exactly what I should focus on at all times, because even my best efforts will come to naught without His loving intervention and masterful orchestration.

Thanks to all of you who have been so faithful in your friendship and support, especially to those of you who have been praying alongside me for these many months!

TV as Tutor

Much can be, and has been, said about the power of television as a force for ill in our society. And much of it's true; adults and children consume more intellectual junk food than anything else when the glowing box is beckoning. In fact, the best thing Amy and I ever did was give up TV for Lent a few years ago -- our viewing habits have not been the same since, and now that we make a concerted effort to limit our exposure, we are more aware of (and often horrified by) what's being aimed at our minds.

Even the commercials are becoming more distasteful, if that's possible. Our current "favorite" involves a leaky rowboat and a feminine hygiene product...you may use your imagination, and you probably won't be far off. (What's that sound, you ask? It's my grandmother whirring in her grave.)

But every once in a while, something that happens on TV will stick with you in a *good* way. It can actually be a teaching tool. For example, how many of us learned to count to ten in Spanish just by watching Sesame Street? If you live in California, as I do, there's no such thing as useless Spanish vocabulary.

I had a fun TV learning memory just now. I get this "word of the day" e-mail (I know, I know), and today's word was "aver." I confess to being quietly delighted with myself whenever I actually already know the word of the day, but I get an even bigger charge out of it when there's a memory attached about how I learned it in the first place.

aver \uh-VUR\,transitive verb;
Inflected forms: averred; averring:
1. To affirm with confidence; to declare in a positive manner,
as in confidence of asserting the truth.
2. (Law) To assert, claim, or declare as a fact

The first time I remember hearing this word? I was very young, and watching the annual broadcast of "The Wizard of Oz." Yes, it's technically a film and not TV, but this was back in the days before the popularity of VCRs and invention of DVD players. And in the beginning of the "Oz" part of the movie, just after the Wicked Witch of the East has been rendered two-dimensional by Dorothy's house, the Coroner of Munchkinland sings this reassuring statement to the munchkin masses:

"As coroner, I must aver
I've thoroughly examined her
And she's not only merely dead
She's really most sincerely dead!"

So, what has TV done for you?

Jingle-Jangle-Jingle

I'm in Clovis this weekend, visiting the parental units. For Mother's Day (which we celebrated on Saturday, as we are a people whose holiday preferences include crowd avoidance), Mom wanted to drive up into the hills and have lunch at Humphrey Station. (I am perplexed by the site to which I'm pointing you, which is an apparent indicator that Humphrey's is for sale -- anybody got $775,000? -- despite no indication of that in person.)

Ever been there? When we drove up, there were a few dozen Harleys parked out front, and while we were eating, a party of what I can only assume to be middle-aged cowgirls strode past our table...wearing actual spurs. Good blackberry cobbler, too. It's worth a visit.

Don't Forget to Bring I.D., and Proof That You're From the Future

This Saturday, some students at MIT will be hosting (are hosting? did host?) a convention for time travelers. Nothing I can say here could possibly be funnier than the actual story.

What Kind of Pirate Am I?

Avast! Because I trust the judgment of the likes of ye, me landlubbin' mateys and scurvy associates, I be trustin' in ye to assess me piratical tendencies:

What kind of pirate am I? You decide!
You can also view a breakdown of results or put one of these on your own page!
Brought to you by Rum and Monkey

The Following Takes Place Between 11:00 A.M. and 12:00 P.M.

Just in time for May sweeps, it's the "24" (Season 4) Drinking Game!

Every time one of the following phrases or situations occurs on an episode of "24" (Season 4), take a shot...of a beverage that wouldn't impair your judgment if you were the President of the United States or the head of CTU:

• A character from one or more previous seasons resurfaces (bonus points for those we thought were dead or in prison)

• Chloe rolls her eyes, verbally abuses someone, gives Edgar a dirty look or otherwise displays her lack of social skills

• "You're making the wrong call" (acceptable substitutes include "That's not the right call" and "That's not the way to handle this," etc.)

• Someone from CTU screws over an innocent bystander

• "It'll happen within the hour."

• A commercial for the Fox series "House" shows someone having a seizure (TiVo users, no points for you!)

• Infidelity

• "I have [character name] on the line. He says it's urgent."

• Stupid interpersonal drama interferes with the professional duties of the CTU staff, potentially causing injury or death to millions of U.S. citizens

• Jack yells, "DAMN IT!"

Which Historical Lunatic Are You?

Take this brilliant Web quiz to find out:


Which Historical Lunatic Are You?
From the fecund loins of Rum and Monkey.

For your amusement, here's my historical lunatic profile. Don't read it until you've taken the quiz yourself, though -- you might be tempted to answer in a way that unfairly tips your results in favor of ALSO being Charles the Mad...and this royal nuthouse ain't big enough for the both of us:

You are Charles VI of France, also known as Charles the Mad or Charles the Well-Beloved!

A fine, amiable and dreamy young man, skilled in horsemanship and archery, you were also from a long line of dribbling madmen. King at 12 and quickly married to your sweetheart, Bavarian Princess Isabeau, you enjoyed many happy months together before either of you could speak anything of the other's language. However, after illness you became a tad unstable. When a raving lunatic ran up to your entourage spouting an incoherent prophecy of doom, you were unsettled enough to slaughter four of your best men when a page dropped a lance. Your hair and nails fell out. At a royal masquerade, you and your courtiers dressed as wild men, ending in tragedy when four of them accidentally caught fire and burned to death. You were saved by the timely intervention of the Duchess of Berry's underskirts.

This brought on another bout of sickness, which surgeons countered by drilling holes in your skull. The following months saw you suffer an exorcism, beg your friends to kill you, go into hyperactive fits of gaiety, run through your rooms to the point of exhaustion, hide from imaginary assassins, claim your name was Georges, deny that you were King and fail to recognise your family. You smashed furniture and wet yourself at regular intervals. Passing briefly into erratic genius, you believed yourself to be made of glass and demanded iron rods in your attire to prevent you breaking.

In 1405 you stopped bathing, shaving or changing your clothes. This went on until several men were hired to blacken their faces, hide, jump out and shout "boo!", upon which you resumed basic hygiene. Despite this, your wife continued sleeping with you until 1407, when she hired a young beauty, Odette de Champdivers, to take her place. Isabeau then consoled herself, as it were, with your brother. Her lovers followed thick and fast while you became a pawn of your court, until you had her latest beau strangled and drowned.

A severe fever was fended off with oranges and pomegranates in vast quantities, but you succumbed again in 1422 and died. Your disease was most likely hereditary. Unfortunately, you had anywhere up to eleven children, who variously went on to develop capriciousness, great cruelty, insecurity, paranoia, revulsion towards food and, in one case, a phobia of bridges.

Chuck Heston Was Right

Soylent Green is people!!!

Besides, I'll link to any article that first claims something will "smack of cannibalism" and then claims it "smacks of Frankenstein."

"But officer, he's *smart* enough to drive...."

I'm once again puppysitting a future guide dog this weekend (Liam the Magnificent, for those of you who either know him or have heard me sing his canine praises).

It's a sad commentary on Los Angeles traffic and car culture that I am so accustomed to being the sole occupant of my vehicle, I actually had a fleeting moment's thought that Liam and I would qualify as a carpool. Thank God I realized my idiocy before I changed lanes. That would have been an embarrassing $370 fine.

Tough Love

"Love, in the true sense, is not always a matter of giving way, being soft, and just acting nice. In that sense, a sugar-coated Jesus or a God who agrees to everything and is never anything but nice and friendly is no more than a caricature of real love. Because God loves us, because he wants us to grow into truth, he must necessarily make demands on us and must also correct us." -- Pope Benedict XVI

You tell 'em, Holy Father. God ain't no wussy-boy.

I love this quote because it challenges those who think of God as The Big Hug From Above, the Immortal Cheerleader who wants us to be happy and fulfilled and self-actualized and to feel good about ourselves all the time, no matter what.

There's no commandment that says, "Thou shalt happily skip along the garden path, in blissful and childlike ignorance of reality and without responsibility or maturity." No, God lays down His expectations. His instruction is to pursue some things, and to avoid some other things, "so that it may go well with you." Which implies, of course, that if you do not...it will NOT go well with you. A loving God gives us choice, but a loving God also gives us responsibility and holds us accountable. As it is with earthly parents, how much more with a Heavenly Father? Would we ever grow into adulthood otherwise?

I Didn't Even Know He Was Catholic

I knew the Holy See had been pressured to bow to the expectations of today's culture as the cardinals met this week to elect a new pope, but who expected this? It can only be the work of a secret conclavin.

SWAT the Monkey

Officer Sean Truelove of the Mesa, Arizona police department envisions "the ultimate SWAT reconnaissance tool."

I smell a straight-to-video franchise, here....

Word Games and Minor Obsessions (Or, Things That Keep Me Up at Night)

It all started with "Harry Potter & the Hairy Potter." Things escalated from there, and Amy and I stayed up very late. laughing, as we are wont to do. Here are the results:

BEST IN CLASS:

Harry Potter & the Hairy Potter
Mary Poppins & the Merry Poppins
Robin Hood & the Robbin' Hood
Sherlock Holmes & the Sure-Lock Homes

NOT TOO SHABBY:

Frank Marshall & the Frank Marshall
Rip Taylor & the Rip Tailor
John Boothe & the John Booth
Art Carney & the Art Carny
Mark Taper & the Mark Taper
Kurt Russell & the Curt Rustle

SPECIAL ACHIEVEMENT AWARD:

Ernest Borgnine & the Earnest Borg Nine

HONORABLE MENTION:

Earl Warren & the Warrin' Earl
Ho Chi Minh & the Hoochy-Men


...anyone have anything to add?

Three More For Bill

Because Bill so enjoyed the last poem I posted, I figured I'd put up a few more of note:

The Garments of God

God sits on a chair of darkness in my soul.
He is God alone, supreme in His majesty.
I sit at His feet, a child in the dark beside Him;
my joy is aware of His glance and my sorrow is tempted
to nest on the thought that His face is turned from me.
He is clothed in the robes of His mercy, voluminous garments --
not velvet or silk and affable to the touch,
but fabric strong for a frantic hand to clutch,
and I hold to it fast with the fingers of my will.
Here is my cry of faith, my deep avowal
to the Divinity that I am dust.
Here is the loud profession of my trust.
I need not go abroad
to the hills of speech or the hinterlands of music
for a crier to walk in my soul where all is still.
I have this potent prayer through good or ill:
here in the dark I clutch the garments of God.

-- Jessica Powers

*****

Before the Beginning

Before the beginning Thou hast foreknown the end,
Before the birthday the death-bed was seen of Thee:
Cleanse what I cannot cleanse, mend what I cannot mend.
O Lord All-Merciful, be merciful to me.

While the end is drawing near I know not mine end;
Birth I recall not, my death I cannot foresee:
O God, arise to defend, arise to befriend,
O Lord All-Merciful, be merciful to me.

-- Christina Rossetti

*****

i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes

(i who have died am alive again today,
and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth
day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)

how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any -- lifted from the no
of all nothing -- human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

-- e.e. cummings