For your viewing pleasure!

The Language Loft's first photo slideshow awaits! Click the play button below and check it out. Thanks again to everyone who made this project possible. If anyone has suggestions for the next slideshow's theme or, as always, for another figure of speech in need of research, leave a comment or send me an e-mail.



And another of my favorite uses of the word "idiom," just for kicks:



Have a pleasant day, all.

- Mead

Not AWOL...just working.

Hey loyal readers - just wanted to let you know that I haven't been posting for a very important reason. I'm working on a project for this blog - a slideshow of photographs depicting idioms acted out by real, live people!*

If you'd like to be part of this project and live in the Gainesville, Fla. area, feel free to e-mail me at edwardmbowen@gmail.com and we can set up a time to get you in a photo before Friday.

Thanks folks! I'll have this slideshow up and running on here by Friday at the latest.

- Mead



* - as opposed to fake, dead people**
** - poking fun at my own redundancies

"Give 'im a taste of the boatswain's rope-end, early in the morning!"

One of the prerequisites for sons of veterinarians is an appreciation for animals. I've owned cats all my life, and my parents adopted a rescue dog several years ago, with whom I promptly fell in love. The photo at the left is of me and said dog, Maggie.

Let's make it clear that I'm an equal-opportunity zoophile (ZU-oh-fyle; and not of the sexual kind, smartalecks) before I make an entry for this misunderstood idiom, because
1) I am neither a strict cat person nor a strict dog person
2) I dislike cruelty to animals as much as the next person
3) my father might disown me if he thought otherwise*

With that said, today's entry is a seafaring phrase (notice a pattern?) reviled for its presumed association to animal cruelty: enough room to swing a cat.

The "cat" in this phrase refers to a nasty whip known as a cat o' nine tails, used to punish lawbreaking sailors in the British Royal Navy until the 1800s. This flogging occurred on deck in full view, because below deck the ceilings were too low for the boatswain's (pronounced BO-sun's) mate to swing the whip.

Though other variations existed, the naval cat was made out of rope. Colonial-era rope was made of three thin ropes, each composed of three strands of cotton yarn - when unraveled at the end, nine separate strings would result, giving the whip its nine tails.**

The jury is out on whether they were usually knotted, but most accounts maintain they were. Each would cause intense pain when striping an insubordinate's back. If the crime was theft, the mate would employ the thieves' cat, each of its thongs knotted three times for additional pain (see right). Theft was an especially serious crime aboard a naval vessel.***

Several regulations about usage of the whip existed, but as we innovative humans often do, captains found ways to circumvent them. Though floggings exceeding 12 lashes were subject to court martial, captains often got away with as many as 72 without being caught. The mate put all of his strength into each blow, and if the captain decreed more lashes, another man would deliver the next set of 12 to ensure the punishment's severity.

The song "What Shall We Do with a Drunken Sailor" features a pseudonym for the cat, "the captain's daughter," seeing as in theory the cat was used only with his permission. Whether your version of the song says "give him a taste of the captain's daughter" or "put him in the bed with the captain's daughter," the singers are asking for a flogging.****

That the song requests this punishment doesn't surprise me. Punishment in British, colonial and piratical societies alike was public spectacle. People treated hangings and clapping a criminal in stocks as we might a free benefit concert or a fistfight in the schoolyard.

Nowadays, the use of the cat tends to be a private matter, as any BDSM devotee will discreetly***** tell you. Funny how what was once punishment, some of us today do voluntarily. Maybe some royal sailors deliberately violated the law? Who knows. What I do know is that where our contemporaries want to swing the cat, there's always [a] room [in which] to do it.



Information purloined from Captain Blood's Cove, Broadside, pride-unlimited.com, Pirates of the Caribbean: A Pyrate's Life, dictionary.reference.com; images purloined from Wikimedia Commons and my personal album



* - I may or may not have once fed Maggie a Jujube to point and laugh at her (and I'm kidding about that disownment part)
** - Any thoughts on why people have said cats have nine lives, besides surviving falls from great heights?
*** - one flaskful of liquor smuggled aboard could buy a lot of hardtack - we're talking, like, a 1:5 ratio here******
**** - if you were lucky, maybe even from the captain's daughter*******
***** - or vocally and in graphic detail
****** - What? It works as a deadly projectile if you don't have a rock...
******* - Before anybody gets excited about the further possibility for pirate pornography - yes, there is already a multimillion-dollar two-part series - bringing a woman or young boy aboard was punishable by death.

The incantation continues...

Sorry for not posting - again - on my regularly scheduled days. I drove down to Maitland (near Orlando, for those for whom the name rings no bell), Fla., for the Fourth of July. My parents' house had no Internet access and my parents enlisted my help in Independence Day preparations. I'll write compensatory posts sometime this week.

Something you all might find interesting:

My girlfriend and I attempted to make a piña colada pancake last Wednesday. The recipe we used was for an oven pancake, meaning that the chef puts the pancake, pan and all, into the oven to cook it. As I was putting in the pan, I told myself that it would be hot when we finished it. Nonetheless, when my beloved removed it from the oven, she remarked on its appearance, and so I moseyed over, and with a reckless, "Really? Let me see," grabbed the scalding pan.

The resultant burn hurt so badly that I had to sit at home with my hand in ice water during my Political Science class. Once I looked at my hand, however, I noticed that the burn skipped over the lifeline.

When people seeing the burn-mark ask me about it, I say, "I guess it means I have a charmed life."

Hence, my blog entry.

The saying "a charmed life" comes again from our beloved playwright, William Shakespeare, in his infamous play Macbeth. The phrase occurs in line 16 of the play when Macbeth, complacent in the Weird Sisters' prediction that he shall not die at the hand of anyone born of a woman, taunts his opponent, Macduff (lines 12-17):

MACBETH

Thou losest labour:
As easy mayst thou the intrenchant* air
With thy keen sword impress as make me bleed:
Let fall thy blade on vulnerable crests;
I bear a charmed life, which must not yield,
To one of woman born.

Or, translated for your convenience:

Your attempts are in vain;
It is as easy for you to wound the invincible air as it is for you to wound me.
Swing at the shields/helmets/necks of the vulnerable;
Magic charms protect me, and no one born of a woman shall kill me.

Perhaps Shakespeare was also progenitor of the loophole; Macduff reveals three lines later that C-section babies don't count, and takes Macbeth's smug pate as a trophy. One would think moving forests would be enough to make the man a skeptic.

The true lesson of this play is that no man or woman can escape destiny. The Weird Sisters definitely live up to their name here. Shakespeare knew his mythology, as I'm about to explain. Yes, ladies and gents, a 2-for-1 entry. And it's not even happy hour!**

In Anglo-Saxon mythology, the goddess of Fate, also known as "the Lord of every man," bears the name "Wyrd" - a word also used as a noun to refer to one's fate or destiny itself. Chaucer in Troilus and Criseyde christens Fortune "executrice of wierdes" (executress of destinies; Book III, line 617), and writes in The Legend of Good Women of "The Wirdes, that we clepen [call] Destinee" (Book IX, line 19).

Holinshed's Chronicles of England, Scotland, and Ireland (1577), however, was Shakespeare's source material for Macbeth. Shakespeare adapted the scene and dialogue of Macbeth and Banquo's first meeting with the Weird Sisters straight from this text, in which they are the Norns, or Sister-Fates, of Norse mythology: Urthr, the Past; Verthandi, the Present; and Skuld, the Future.

We have since demoted the word "weird" to the shame of "fantastic, bizarre" or "suggestive of the supernatural." I don't imagine Lady (or the Ladies) Wyrd are pleased. If we aren't careful, they might call in a favor with their Greek sisters****, Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, to gang up on us. Those shears can be vicious, and I don't imagine they're cleaned very often.


Information purloined from The Phrase Finder, Theatre Database and william-shakespeare.info



* - one of Shakespeare's brilliant additions to the English language. If you must split hairs, intrenchant really means "not to be gashed or marked with furrows (or trenches)"
** - unless, by the time you read this entry, it is between 4 p.m. and 7 p.m.***
*** - unless, by the time you read this entry, you are in Ireland
**** - from the Mt. Olympus chapter of the Global Fateweaving Vocational Sorority

Why saints are few and far between

For many, life is a constant struggle between God and the Devil, the polar opposites lobbing people like grenades, launching the shrapnel of good or evil, respectively, into the moral fiber of those caught in the blast.

The language of theology, because of its pertinence to humanity, produces many idioms used on an everyday basis. A phrase rising in popularity (due in no small part to the Reeves-Pacino movie) is "the devil's advocate."

In common usage, a devil's advocate makes a case for an unpopular or opposing viewpoint either to subject it to analysis, or merely for the sake of argument. To play the devil's advocate may brighten a colorless conversation. It can also annoy pigheaded individuals with satisfying efficiency.

The expression's origin stems, of all places, from the Roman Catholic Church. Called God's Advocate (Advocatus Dei in Latin) until 1983, the Devil's Advocate (Advocatus Diaboli) presents the argument against a potential saint's candidacy for beatification (declaration of a dead person as blessed and thereby entitled to special religious honor) or canonization (placement in the canon of recognized saints). The office's formal title is Promoter of the Faith (Promotor Fidei).*

So why would the Church give Catholicism's champion and a spokesperson for God such a dishonorable title? The officeholder's argument against an aspiring saint includes all of the unflattering tidbits about his or her past.*

Pope Sixtus V: "Well, we can't have any Antonio off the street playing saint, now can we?"

While seemingly introduced by Pope Leo X in the early 15th century, Pope Sixtus V formally created the office in 1587. Pope John Paul II's 1979 revision of canonization procedures abolished the office,** in my opinion a bad move. Why do away with an avenue for valuable, logical discussion?

I think devilish advocacy is a wonderful idea - it helps avoid complacency and overconfidence, and challenges people to question the commonly accepted. If you're strong enough in your beliefs, whether they be religious, political or even methodological ("you've got your way, I've got mine"), they will bear the strain of scrutiny.

Finally, I'd like to give some mad props to the Devil. In phraseology, the Devil is a rock star. He's the subject of such common expressions as "give the Devil his due," "speak of the Devil," "between the Devil and the deep blue sea," "devil-may-care" and, my personal favorite, "the Devil can cite scripture for his purpose" (The Merchant of Venice, Act I, Scene 3).

I don't imagine the Devil gets thanked often. Maybe you should try it. He might leave you be, for the time being.


Information purloined from http://www.theanswerbank.co.uk/Article675.html, http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/160216/devils-advocate and http://www.william-shakespeare.info/quotes-quotations-play-merchant-of-venice.htm




* - The Papal Enquirer has him on speed-dial
** - I would do it if I were Pope. Saint Mead has a nice ring to it.***
*** - Could I be the patron saint of alcoholic beverages?

Wordsmith is to pen as mason is to "_______"

Belated TGIF, demoiselles et messieurs. Chances are you know of the passing of the so-called King of Pop - on Thursday, Michael Jackson died after entering cardiac arrest early that morning. Experts are arguing over pretty much everything except that he's gone.

Don't get me wrong - I like MJ's music as much as the next guy, but when CNN's board of experts and slew of commenters went so far as to compare him to, insultingly, the President; ironically, to Santa; and appallingly, to a tragic figure born of the Bard, irritation is an understatement of my emotions.

Jackson's death is lamentable, true. But while to imply that pop's throne lies vacant is to shortchange the genre's other artists, to liken his death to that of the President or his influence to that of the linchpin of American Christmas tradition is to lay it on with a trowel.

Today's phrase, "to lay it on with a trowel," stems from one of Shakespeare's most beloved plays, As You Like It. It means, according to Gary Martin of The Phrase Finder, "to crudely labor a point, or to flatter in an overly generous manner." Here are the lines leading up to it and the phrase itself (lines 94-99):

LE BEAU: Fair princess, you have lost much good sport.
CELIA: Sport; of what color?*
LE BEAU: What color, madam? How shall I answer you?**
ROSALIND: As wit and fortune will.
TOUCHSTONE: Or as the destinies decree.
CELIA: Well said; that was laid on with a trowel.
LE BEAU: Nay, if I keep not my rank -
ROSALIND: Thou losest thy old smell.***

Ah, Billy Shakes - you clever rogue. He's playing on the double entendres of his words, as usual.

Bricklayer in Paoua, Central African Republic; photo
by Brice Blondel for the Humanitarian and Development
Partnership Team, Central African Republic

This phrase works on the idea that mortar will not bind bricks together properly if applied too thinly; yet, by the same token, a trowel is essentially a broad blade of steel (see left) used to heap on the mortar and to scrape away the excess. It is not a graceful tool. Bricklayers use trowels to smooth out the lumps in mortar applied to walls or floors in the final stages of production.

The difference between an edifice and a person, however, is that a person will feel every dollop plopped upon his or her face. Amateur brown-nosers and pick-up artists**** commit this sin with frequency, and while such glib speech might fool the flatteree, bystanders will know.

Ever meet someone with an inexhaustible stream of compliments - the company Yes Man? Tell him to put in two weeks' notice, because I know a mason who would be very interested in an apprentice...

Some women (or men) you know might lay their makeup on with a trowel. In that case, the person he or she vainly attempts to flatter is him/herself. Then again, Elizabethan makeup was little more than a mask and/or a literal facial peel anyway, so who's counting?

As another popular idiom goes, "flattery will get you nowhere." Sincerity and clarity, in common use before anyone ever needed to fake it, still reign supreme.

And if you're going to make a comparison, at least make an apt one!*****


Information purloined from http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/224600.html and http://users.tinyonline.co.uk/gswithenbank/sayingsl.htm



* - or "what kind?"
** - Of the light bulbs at your local hardware store, Le Beau's about a 10-watter; he thinks Celia actually means "what color?"
*** - pun on "rank," also meaning a stench
**** - seducing dupable women isn't an art if painters still get more sex than you
***** - such as the missing link and Joaquin Phoenix

I'm on a boat, Mr. Samberg, but it doesn't seem to be moving

Ahoy, ye seekers of the silver tongue! Today's entry comes from nautical parlance, from whence a staggering number of everyday phrases arose. The Navy and Marines alone are responsible for quite a few common sayings, such as "FUBAR" and "bug juice." More from that ilk in later entries.

By the way, feel free to request the origins for a word or phrase tugging at the back of your mind. If you're wondering about it, chances are I'll find it worthy of an analysis, too.

The origins of today's phrase,"high and dry," are conspicuously nautical.

Though it isn't the widely-accepted definition, I suppose it could also refer to that one time you had no liquor in the house, so you huffed a lot of aerosol instead and sat in an oxygen-deprived haze for about an hour, whipped cream dripping from your nose.

Imagine you are on a vessel. Your captain has steered your ship into, unbeknownst to you and he, a tidal pool. You anchored at high tide and careened the hull, but as you prepare to embark the waters begin to recede. You weigh anchor, unfurl the sails; the captain points your ship toward the open sea, the water disappearing around you as you work. Soon the vast expanse around you is a carpet of brown, damp sand, and your ship sits on a coral bed, holes gouged into the timbers.

And the tide, my friend, has left you high and dry.

In the early days of ship navigation, "high and dry" referred to ships beached or completely above water without an immediate means of regaining the seas. "Dry" also implied that the ship had long been out of the water - no residual moisture left in its boards - and could expect to remain beached for a while.

I'm curious to know if dry could also mean the crew had exhausted the drinking water supplies aboard. Not every captain can be as lucky as Columbus when he found the mouth of the Orinoco River on his third voyage to the New World.*

In everyday usage, if someone is left high and dry, s/he means s/he has been stranded without hope or hope of recovery for at least a little while. Your designated driver might have committed this sin against you before if given a 75 percent or greater chance to score at a mutual friend's party.

Sorry, it's codified at #4 as part of Man Law. Inviolable. Practically sacred. And the consequences would be dire.

I hope this tidbit of naval lingo will serve you well. Anchors aweigh, lads and lasses, 'til we meet again!



Information purloined from http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/high-and-dry.html


* - He also arrogantly thought that finding such a robust river meant he, no matter how many explorers and Native Americans had been there before him,** had discovered the Garden of Eden.

** - all his voyage really did was introduce syphilis to Europe.*** Don't believe me?

*** - Horny twits.

Laughing at Unfortunates

Before you say anything, this entry's title is also the title of a Monty Python sketch. I don't condone this act.

Unless you're my brother, who made me choke on bubble tea while laughing, and to whom in retaliation I did the same thing.

Today's entry means exactly the title of this post, or at least it can be one form of it. Schadenfreude (pronounced SHA-den-froid-uh, despite the nasty habit of truncating it in the U.S. to SHA-den-froid) means taking sadistic pleasure at someone else's misfortune.

Parsed into schaden and freude, a literal translation yields "harm-joy" ("harm" for schaden and "joy" for freude - remember, froid-uh).

Don't lie; you've felt it before. If you detested Bush, you relished when Iraqi journalist Muntadar al-Zaidi hurled his shoes at the former president. When a piggish casanova's date throws champagne in his face, you might want to toss him another glass to wash it down.* What about when an arrogant skateboarder kisses a park bench groin-first? Maybe it would be nobler to check on him, but I have to admit that I might crow a bit first.

Keep in mind that the punishment, though it needn't fit the crime, must be deserved to in turn deserve schadenfreude. Why bad things happen to good people is a question better answered by Murphy's Law.

Schadenfreude is an unseen force patching the holes in law enforcement; the celebration of karmic backlash; a reason for treasuring the virtuous life. Another phrase for schadenfreude in commoner usage is "poetic justice."

Speaking of which, if anyone has a definition of what prosaic justice is, I would value your input. An article from National Review Online's Andrew C. McCarthy defines it as the "the even-handed administration of the law, day in and day out, without fear or favor."

Seeing as prosaic means "commonplace" and because sometimes justice is anything but, I think that definition hardly...does it justice.

Adieu, adieu - before I make any more terrible puns.




Information purloined from http://www.word-detective.com/010506.html


* - or an entire bottle**


** - possibly broken over his head

Welcome, ladies and germs, to my shiny, new blog

For all of the logo- and linguaphiles out there, I plan to regularly update with tidbits about language, idioms, wordplay, puns, etymology and hilarious mistranslations. Once my online class, RTV 3280: Interactive Media, ends, I would like to make my blog more variegated, but for now I will stick to a singular topic. I hope you'll come to like the cut of my blog's jib.

"Cut of your blog's jib?" you might ask. "Why, old boy, that's crazy talk!"And while I would in response ask why you insist on speaking like the Great Gatsby, I suppose I will indulge you just this once.*

The cut of one's jib emerged as a nautical phrase most likely in the Age of Exploration. The jib is any one of various triangular sails that adds additional power to the mainsail. It is at the bow of the ship, connected to the topmast, as in the picture at the left.
Every nation's shipbuilding style resulted in a different sail shape, and a ship's nationality could therefore be determined from the jib.

(Photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons - http://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Yacht_jib.svg)

In modern parlance, "I don't like the cut of his jib" is "I don't like the look of him." Though more humorous if so, it need not refer to just the subject's nose. Sir Walter Scott (yay Ivanhoe!) used the phrase idiomatically in his 1824 book St. Ronan's Well, a piece set mostly around a mineral spring. Bravo, Scott, for publishing a book in such an utterly boring setting.

Information purloined from http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/cut-of-your-jib.html

* - And every time hereafter