Some words were incorrectly done. They somehow gained acceptance in the English language over time, but they do not fit the things they describe. For example, "tits" are not a girl's breasts, or in the context that it's used, nipply mountains of desire. Tits really are tiny dots, such as those made by a bored pencil in a boring notebook. Somehow or other, our culture has convinced itself that tits are the fleshy projections of a female's upper torso. Nope. I'm not having it. In addition to "tits," I'm here to fix some more words that were improperly assigned in the English language.
1. Clandestine. I got this word by typing "word" into the Labels box and getting the tag "The Word Clandestine." I don't know. But it got me to thinking. First, that I didn't know what clandestine meant. It means to keep something secret because it's illicit. Ohhhh no. I don't think so. Not anymore, it doesn't. To be "clandestine" is to be something of a heavenly quality. Think about it. I can't hear the word clandestine without either hearing it in a deep voice that I assume to be Poseidon's or visualizing rays of light beaming out from the emboldened word. Clandestine is the nature of the gods. And that is nothing to keep secret. Take that, The Word Clandestine.
2. Éclat. Nope. This is wrong. Éclat is not a sensational or brilliant scene. An éclat is a disgusting dish of vegetables involving things like avocados and eggplant. Would you like an éclat platter? Éclno!
3. Trope. Ah. Something to rinse off my palate after that disgusting éclat. This tray of tropes looks amazing. How do these common figures of speech taste? Like bite-sized clumps of almond, coated thickly in milk chocolate. And holy shit, some of these have caramel in them. I love tropes.
4. Vicissitude. I will agree at least that there is an unwelcome change occurring, because I certainly do not welcome these life-threatening slashes across my chest made by this sword. That is what vicissitudes now are. Vicissitude is too sharp of a word to be something as broad as "change." Listen to that. Vvvv. Agressive start. Someone's getting hurt somehow. Sissss hissing snake yikes that's scary. Tude. That sounds like "feud" and people get hurt in those. The combination of Vs and Ss work well to smelt a sharp, deadly blade, one that causes those deep, blood-letting vicissitudes all along your body.
5. Glib. Glib is snot. Let's face it. When you describe someone as glib, you're putting on a façade. You're telling people that you find someone to be fluent or talkative, but insincere. What you really mean is that they're snot. Actual snot. You think that that person is a disgusting glob of mucus dripping over the earth. The dictionary backs me up here. It's telling me that "glib" comes from the German "glibberig," which means "slimy." I'm not surprised. Don't beat around the bush here; call the spade a spade. Let's stop calling snot insincere and start calling it snot. Okay, guys? Okay. Now let's get to Frindle-ing.
Showing posts with label Linguistics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Linguistics. Show all posts
Monday, February 20, 2012
Monday, July 11, 2011
Unstoppable Blog
Robert Langellier
In tonight's lecture, I'm going to share with you some recent thoughts I've had on various linguistic subjects.
1a. First of all, there some adjectives I've discovered lately that unfailingly make any noun in the English language better. Recently, I've begun inserting them randomly and often into my speech, creating some indecipherable, gorgeous sentences. These adjectives are as follows: Unstoppable, Explosive, and Titanic.
For example:
-"Would not bang. She's a titanic slut."
-"How was your weekend?"
-"Unstoppable."
-"I can't believe she gave us 45 pages to read!"
-"Yeah, I wish our homework was more explosive."
These words, when randomly applied, will make you a more interesting person. I personally guarantee it. They will grab the mundane and transform it into the explosively mundane. Admittedly, titanic has less augmenting power than both unstoppable and explosive, and so I strategically placed it first in the examples so you'd have forgotten it by now.
1b. One adjective I would like to include with an asterisk is ultimate. Ultimate is an excellent adjective to use with special restrictions, particularly by capitalizing both words and removing any articles. My subconscious tells me I have garnered this knowledge nugget from Conor.* I know not if this is true, but fully expect him to quickly claim credit anyway. The formula works better with vague, staccato sentences that contain naught but two words:
-"How are you so chipper? Didn't you go to bed at like five?"
-"Ultimate Sleep."
Now that's a winning sentence.
*Probably a result of him constantly talking about ultimate frisbee.
1c. The "ultimate" formula is also applicable to "titanic" for additional augmentation, I have found:
-"Would not bang. She is Titanic Slut."
2. Since we're on the subject of adjectives, let's move to adverbs, the sickly cousins of adjectives. Second only to gerunds in being generally not understood by people, adverbs have the surprising power of sucking the momentum out of interesting words. As I am about to show, my game-changing adjectives lose steam when converted to adverbs:
-"What is wrong with me?"
-"You're explosively boring."
-"Omg look! A squirrel!"
-"Omg, it's unstoppably cute."
And thus, dear reader, the reason why science is ever-changing. Clearly these are both phenomenal sentences. Adverbs can indeed be flavorful, and they can be used to spice up your speech in excellent ways. One formula I suggest is the following: When using multiple adjectives for a single noun, turn the first adjective instead into an bold adverb, regardless of its effect on meaning. As such:
Originally:
-"The suspect is a dangerous black man."
Use instead:
-"The suspect is a dangerously black man."
3. I was trying to imagine, today, what the probably Latin phrase ad hominem meant. I was struck by the harsh transition from the hard, abrupt "d" sound followed by the exhaling "h" sound. I decided then that no word ending in "d" should ever precede one beginning in "h." I immediately went on to realize that basically no word ending in any letter should ever precede one beginning in "h," because "h" is a just an awful letter, I realized. It's just...breathing forcefully. It's awkward and I won't stand for it. So this is why France has silenced it, I thought to myself, but even they are noncommittal enough to not execute the damn thing. I meandered through the alphabet and discovered only two sounds, "-ff" and "-(vowel)y," besides "h" itself that lend themselves to a proceeding "h" word, leaving approximately two formable English sentences that I will accept:
-"Bring that graph here."
and
-"Yay, it's a boy horse!"
I still don't know what ad hominem means, but I like to think we've made some solid ground on fostering a firm grip on our native language, and I intend to shower with acknowledgment those who use my certified language enhancers in my approximate presence. I bid you all adieu now.
In tonight's lecture, I'm going to share with you some recent thoughts I've had on various linguistic subjects.
1a. First of all, there some adjectives I've discovered lately that unfailingly make any noun in the English language better. Recently, I've begun inserting them randomly and often into my speech, creating some indecipherable, gorgeous sentences. These adjectives are as follows: Unstoppable, Explosive, and Titanic.
For example:
-"Would not bang. She's a titanic slut."
-"How was your weekend?"
-"Unstoppable."
-"I can't believe she gave us 45 pages to read!"
-"Yeah, I wish our homework was more explosive."
These words, when randomly applied, will make you a more interesting person. I personally guarantee it. They will grab the mundane and transform it into the explosively mundane. Admittedly, titanic has less augmenting power than both unstoppable and explosive, and so I strategically placed it first in the examples so you'd have forgotten it by now.
1b. One adjective I would like to include with an asterisk is ultimate. Ultimate is an excellent adjective to use with special restrictions, particularly by capitalizing both words and removing any articles. My subconscious tells me I have garnered this knowledge nugget from Conor.* I know not if this is true, but fully expect him to quickly claim credit anyway. The formula works better with vague, staccato sentences that contain naught but two words:
-"How are you so chipper? Didn't you go to bed at like five?"
-"Ultimate Sleep."
Now that's a winning sentence.
*Probably a result of him constantly talking about ultimate frisbee.
1c. The "ultimate" formula is also applicable to "titanic" for additional augmentation, I have found:
-"Would not bang. She is Titanic Slut."
2. Since we're on the subject of adjectives, let's move to adverbs, the sickly cousins of adjectives. Second only to gerunds in being generally not understood by people, adverbs have the surprising power of sucking the momentum out of interesting words. As I am about to show, my game-changing adjectives lose steam when converted to adverbs:
-"What is wrong with me?"
-"You're explosively boring."
-"Omg look! A squirrel!"
-"Omg, it's unstoppably cute."
And thus, dear reader, the reason why science is ever-changing. Clearly these are both phenomenal sentences. Adverbs can indeed be flavorful, and they can be used to spice up your speech in excellent ways. One formula I suggest is the following: When using multiple adjectives for a single noun, turn the first adjective instead into an bold adverb, regardless of its effect on meaning. As such:
Originally:
-"The suspect is a dangerous black man."
Use instead:
-"The suspect is a dangerously black man."
3. I was trying to imagine, today, what the probably Latin phrase ad hominem meant. I was struck by the harsh transition from the hard, abrupt "d" sound followed by the exhaling "h" sound. I decided then that no word ending in "d" should ever precede one beginning in "h." I immediately went on to realize that basically no word ending in any letter should ever precede one beginning in "h," because "h" is a just an awful letter, I realized. It's just...breathing forcefully. It's awkward and I won't stand for it. So this is why France has silenced it, I thought to myself, but even they are noncommittal enough to not execute the damn thing. I meandered through the alphabet and discovered only two sounds, "-ff" and "-(vowel)y," besides "h" itself that lend themselves to a proceeding "h" word, leaving approximately two formable English sentences that I will accept:
-"Bring that graph here."
and
-"Yay, it's a boy horse!"
I still don't know what ad hominem means, but I like to think we've made some solid ground on fostering a firm grip on our native language, and I intend to shower with acknowledgment those who use my certified language enhancers in my approximate presence. I bid you all adieu now.
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