This being my first column of the year 2015, I wish to return to my main preoccupation. Actually, the preoccupation properly expressed would be Katherine Zeta Jones. But for now I’ll settle for a less exciting passion: words.
I was surprised to discover that “vape” has become a word to describe inhaling those electronic cigarettes — or e-cigs — that I’ve never even seen, except in magazine ads.
And there’s that duo, “actually” and “literally,” now sprinkled into much teen-speak, as in “Actually, I literally ripped his lungs out when he insulted me.
And we have “like,” my guess to be the most common filler word in the lexicon, despite its usually having no meaning, no function in language, like except in constructions like “I like those wheels, man,” or “You look like my sister.”
But for now, let’s like narrow down this grammar lesson to a word that rears its head every election cycle. I’ve alluded to this speech mannerism in the past, but I’m convinced its use has become much more common lately. I’m referring to the word “humbled.”
Ever eaten humble pie? Isn’t that simply a metaphor for actions like eating crow? Humble pie began as umble pie, made of deer innards and generally eaten in the middle ages by those of a low social status. No, I don’t believe there’s an actual ritual in which Mom deep-fries crow or bakes humble pie. These actions merely refer to getting one’s comeuppance. We’ve been acting haughty, perhaps claiming the Dallas Cowboys have a prayer in the playoffs, but suddenly our dreams are dashed. After all that posturing, bragging and exaggerating, we lose and resort to a heaping helping of crow or humble pie.
Please note: humble pie is to be consumed only as a consequence to our being a smarty-pants. That’s why I was surprised to read in Sunday’s paper that our new Attorney General, Hector Balderas, said he was “humbled” by having won the election.
Hector, a native of a humble place called Wagon Mound, should feel anything but humbled. He won the election handily and, if anything, he ought to feel “emboldened,” “energized,” “confident,” but certainly not humbled. After all, his is the highest law-enforcement position in the state.
My singling out Balderas is merely because his statement was made only last week; virtually every winning politician’s acceptance speech was also peppered with that word.
The “accepted,” historical usage of “humbled” used to refer to football teams like the Immaculate Conception Colts of the ‘50s, when teams like the Roy Longhorns, Springer High and the Santa Rosa Lions spanked us. Then we felt humbled. It’s strange how some meanings of words get reversed when used by politicians.
It’s downright humbling what they’ve done to the language.
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There’s a song played often on local radio that refers to the ease in “Taking Candy from a Baby.” I believed that tune was attached to a commercial, but if I remember correctly, the entire song played Monday morning.
But first, we shouldn’t give candy to a baby, nor take it away. Now, thanks to the miracle of radio, I have a brain worm. That’s a tune that keep playing in my head — sometimes for the whole day, and I’m sometimes unsuccessful in purging it. It’s never a song I like. My solution is to reach for my headphones and play something I like, to drown out the worm. It usually works. The absolute worst brain worm one can have is to keep replaying a song whose lyrics go something like “Sara, Sa-ah-ah-rah . . . no time is the ri-ight time for goodbye.”
That tune keeps coming back, no matter how many times I try to jettison it by playing something from Les Miserables. This brain worm information was provided only as a public service. It is not intended as a training manual for developing brain worms, so please try to understand that I cannot be responsible for unpleasant tunes running through your brains.
• • •
An Eric Auld posted these seven bar jokes online, involving grammar and punctuation:
- A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink and then leaves.
- A dangling modifier walks into a bar. After finishing a drink, the bartender asks it to leave.
- A question mark walks into a bar?
- Two quotation marks “walk into” a bar.
- A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to drink.
- The bar was walked into by the passive voice.
- Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They drink.
• • •
Did you ever find yourself in a situation in which no matter how hard you try to explain, you fail to reach the person?
Consider my experience last week at Whole Foods in Santa Fe. I was selecting items out of the bulk food bins, duly using a scoop and a plastic bag which we’re asked to mark, to identify the item.
Just then a pre-teen, with a woman I assumed was her mother, reached into one of the bins with her bare hands and lifted out a piece of licorice. Well, since food increases appetite, Little Missy reached in for a different treat, this time a piece of stuck-together carob or chocolate.
I spoke up, asking the girl, “Can’t you please use the scoop?” I got a glare. Her mother did the same to me. How do I dare chide a little girl who wasn’t doing any harm? Must I mind my own business?
Just then, a woman who had to have been the girl’s grandmother got right in my face. I thought I was going to get slapped. But instead, she said, in a moderate voice, “She shouldn’t be eating candy anyway.” Well, that simply wasn’t my point. And my reply was that as long as Missy was using her bare hands to steal pieces of candy, she ought to be using the scoops provided.
I didn’t stick around to finish the discussion, but I still wonder why the girl’s mother offered nothing to the discussion but an icy glare.